Have a Little Faith (9 page)

There was something there, he knew. He had felt it before both the times he had kissed her
,
but he had mistaken it for the innocence she claimed not to have. He had seen it when he purposely tried to bully an
answer out of her moments ago j
ust as he was seeing it now as she dusted off the seat of her pants.

“I don’t expect you to trust me.”
Lane
waited for her gaze to meet his. “But I want you to know I’ve never
hurt
a woman before. And I don’t intend to start with you.” He almost cursed when she said nothing, only dropped her gaze. “Is that why you won’t marry me?”

“That’s part of it.” She
picked
up the saddle. She felt more confident when she had something to do with her hands. “What just happened
…
It doesn’t usually happen.”

“What did happen?”

“I can’t explain it,” s
he murmured.

Alex edged toward the door with the saddle and a purple saddle blanket in her hands. When he continued to say nothing, she pushed the door open with her hip and walked out, keeping the door open for him.

Lane walked past her out the door and stopped to take the saddle from her hands.
“Where to?”

“Joy,” s
he murmured and followed him into the corral.

“You going for a ride?” h
e asked as she took the saddle from him and placed it on the saddle blanket
over Joy’s back
.

“I ride her to work.”

“Work?”
He quirked a brow.

She wanted to ask him how he did that, raised only one eyebrow. “Yes. I work three days a week at Mr. Scott’s farm.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why do you have to work?”

Alex continued to buckle the saddle while she pondered. “Well, I need the paycheck for one. And Mr. Scott is getting old. He needs the extra pair of hands.”
She hooked her foot in the stirrup and hoisted herself onto Joy’s back. After she gathered the reins, she looked down at Lane who was watchin
g her intently. “I like to work,” s
he said before nudging Joy.

Lane watched her ride off and slipped his hands into his pockets. No, she hadn’t been avoiding him, really. She worked herself like a horse.

As he walked back to the house, he thought of the fear and panic he had enticed from her. Yes, she was too young to be jaded. But she was jaded, nonetheless.

He hadn’t been looking
for them, but there they were—
lying in the closet in the spare bedroom he occupied. Stacks of photo albums neatly rested in the corner of the closet.  Without a
moment’s
hesitation or regards to Alex’s privacy, Lane picked up the top three and s
e
t them on the bed.

The first page of the top album had glitter and cut outs glued in between the clear protectors. It said
MADE BY ALEX MORGAN
and had the year the album was
put
together.

Lane smiled at her clever drawings of caricature cows and horses. He flipped the page to see an eight by ten inch print of Alex.

She would have been a teenager, he mused. Her eyes were the same blue. Big and alluring, but they weren’t bright. Her lips
were curved in a smile that
her eyes didn’t show. She was a skinny thing, he thought turning the page.

There were
more
pictures of Alex with her horses, none the same as were out in the corrals now. He wondered idly if one of them
was
the horse she’d called Faith.

The next few pages were of Alex with a group of girls her age. They each had an arm slung around the girl next to them and they were all wearing blue tie dye shirts with black bandannas. Along with the group picture,
there
were pictures of Alex and each one of the girls separately.

She was a cute kid, he thought as he skimmed more pages.

He thought about what
Tucker
Cole had said to him before leaving the house that
morning. She’d
never had it easy. Now, looking at Alex’s young and incredibly i
nnocent blue eyes through
out her girlhood, he could see the shadows and the sadness lurking in them.

Lane wondered what type of man Joshua Morgan was. Alex never spoke of her father. She didn’t even blame him for the Morgan’s current predicament. It was like, for Alex, he never
existed.

Then, a sick rage overwhelmed him as he thought of the way she had cringed away from him that morning. And, he thought ironically, every time he had touched her.

If the man responsible for putting
that wild fear in her eyes was
still alive, Lane would see to him. He wouldn’t have her being physically afraid of him. If Joshua Morgan laid a hand on his daughter while he was alive, Lane would simply have to be patient.

Patience, Lane mused as he put the scrapbooks back in the closet, was never his strong point. But he was willing to be patient with Alex. He wanted her, God
knew. But he c
ould be patient—for now
.

Now was the time for answers. Lane journeyed downstairs and found Linda quietly sewing in the den.

“Can I
get you a drink, Mrs.
Morgan
?” h
e asked as he strolled into the room.

“Thank you, no.” She continued to sew.

Lane wondered idly how Alex could be so bright and vivid with a mother so dull and lifeless.
During
the
week
he had been a guest at Morgan Ranch, they had exchanged only a handful of personal words. Everything else had been business. Now, Lane was going to get personal.

“I need to ask you
some questions about Alex.” He
took a seat on the couch.

“Fine.”

“What was her relationship like with her father?” Her face didn’t change. He saw her hand freeze and her fingers tighten on the needle before she plucked it through the material.

“What has Alex said about that?”

“Nothing.”

“Joshua was a good man, Mr. Tanner.” It wouldn’t be Lane now, he mused.

“Did he ever abuse Alex?”

Now she looked at him with fire spitting out of her eyes. “Why would you think that?
What
did she tell you?”

“Alex has told me nothing, Mrs. Tanner
,
but actions speak louder than words.” He leaned back in his seat and narrowed his gaze on hers. “Since Alex is going to be my wife, I have the right to know what’s gone on in her life.”

“She
was nothing but a trouble maker,
” Linda spat. “She caused her
father
more grief than joy. She was
never
satisfied!” The blanket and sewing instruments were thrown hastily onto the floor beside her. “He died because of the stress she caused him and she doesn’t even care.”

Lane raised a brow and watched Linda
gather her rigid control once again
. It amused him to see her composure slip.

The fact that she would speak so horribly about her own child when her husband was already dead told Lane more than her words and more tha
n Alex’s actions could tell him—
Joshua Morgan was a brute and Linda Morgan turned the other cheek.

“I’m sorry to have upset you.” Lane rose. “Tell me, where can I find Alex this time of day?”

Linda
bent
at the
waist
to retrieve her sewing tools and straightened he
r shoulders. “It’s Friday night,” s
he said primly.
“Pro
bably running with Sam Brewster
.”

Chapter Seven

Lane paid off the cab and strolled past the
Morgan’s
farm truck
,
straight
into Brewster’s Pub. The town of Cedar Grove was small enough that the cab
driver knew
where
exactly
he could find “Little Alex Morgan,” as the townspeople referred to her as.

The smell of stale cigarettes and alcohol filled his
lungs
upon entering. The bar was packed full of people. Some were
dancing;
some were sitting at the bar. Lane looked around the dim room for Alex
,
but
he
couldn’t spot her through the crowd
.

As he worked his way through the
throng of people
, he was amused by some subtle and not so subtle invitations thrown his way by the women of Cedar Grove. The juke box was busy rattling out a George Strait hit.

His lips curved when he finally spotted Alex sitting at the bar. She was wearing a tiny pair of denim shorts and a black halter top that left her milky shoulders bare and tied around the neck. Her ebony hair was loose and straight as a pin. His mouth watered.

The wo
man beside her was a small thing
as well, only inches taller than Alex. She had golden skin, unlike Alex’s cream complexion and she wore her pale blond hair in a short cap. Her almond shaped brown eyes spotted Lane as he approached and she nudged Alex and whispered something in her ear.

Alex nodded and turned with a smile on her face. Her gaze locked with Lane’s and in that same instant, her smile faded and her eyes widened.

“Alex.” He
bent
down and gave her
a
quick
, firm
kiss on the mouth before taking the seat next to her. “Are you enjoying yourself?”

Alex clamped her mouth shut before it fell to the floor and stared at Lane. “I need another
drink,” s
he muttered and waved at the bartender. Manners had her asking Lane if he wanted anything.

“Scotch, please” h
e told the bartender as he slipped a bill on the counter.

“Who’s your friend, Alex?” The bartender poured a margarita for Alex. His gray eyes sharpened as he studied Lane
with more than mild interest
.

“This is Lane.” Alex took her margarita and licked salt from her thumb. Lane
’s
stomach knotted. “Lane, this is my friend Sam.”

“Sam Brewster. You own this place?”

“Yeah.”
Sam handed Lane the tumbler of scotch and hollered at the other bartender letting him know he was taking his break. He skirted around the
bar then came up behind Alex, plucking
the
lime from her cup.

“Hey,
” Alex pro
tested as Sam took a bite
. He then proceeded to shove it in her mouth while she laughed. She shuddered from the bite
,
then
guzzled half her drink.

Lane fought against the unfamiliar reaction of jealousy.
This was the second time in his life he had felt this particular emotion and both times it had been provoked by this woman.
He
set
his glass down with a clink and signaled for another. He stopped the bartender half way when he noticed Alex’s face was flushed from the alcohol she had consumed.

He tossed back the rest of his scotch and scooted closer to Alex.

“Where are your keys?”

“Sam has them.”

Lane banked down on his temper. “I took a cab here so I’ll drive us home.” He
spoke
deliberately to Sam.

“What do you
mean
us?” Sam asked looking from Alex to Lane.

“He’s staying
at
the ranch for a co
uple weeks as my mother’s guest,
” Alex intercepted giving Lane a look that clearly read keep your mouth shut.

“I see.” Sam pulled her keys out of his pocket. “You know you’re
more than
welcome to stay with me, Alex.”

“That won’t be necessary.” Lane pocketed her keys and shot Alex a grin. “Can you hold your liquor? I don’t want to have to pull over every mile.”

Alex, who was oblivious to the tension flowing between the two men merely smiled at Lane. “I hold my liquor, Tanner.”

“Hi, I’m Lindsay.” The little blond squeezed her way in between Sam and Lane and offered Lane her hand. He shook it and smiled.

“Lane.”

“It’s great to meet you. Can I interest you in a dance?”

Lane looked at Alex who was busy picking at her lime
, her brows drawn together in puzzlement
and grinned. He took Lindsay’s hand and led her to the dance floor as Patsy Cline came on the
jukebox
.