Lone Star Wedding (17 page)

Together, they strode the remaining distance to the bed. While every light in the rest of the house was on, Parker's bedroom was wonderfully dark. Hannah liked the dark. She liked relying on taste and smell and touch and sound. Two or three weeks of this, she thought, would be heaven. But it was only the beginning of what their lives could be.

Once he realized he loved her.

 

“You're awfully quiet,” Parker said, his breath ruffling Hannah's hair. He'd drawn a blanket over them a while ago. Their breathing had slowed to normal, but it had been so long since she'd said anything he wondered if she was asleep. “Hannah? Are you awake?”

She made a sound that meant yes.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

She snuggled closer. “I'm so all right I doubt I'll ever be able to move again.”

Parker felt the effects of her teasing in all the usual places, and in a few more unique places, as well. He was concerned about the direction their relationship had taken. Hell, he hadn't planned to take it all the way to the relationship stage, period. But she'd looked up at him with those big gray eyes tonight, and he'd been lost.

He wasn't accustomed to being lost. He was a man who
thrived when in control. And yet he could have easily slid a hand to her waist, over the curve of her hip, down the soft, supple length of her thigh right now. He was losing a semblance of control just thinking about it.

His traitorous hand glided down her smooth body. He couldn't help smiling at the sound of Hannah's long, drawn-out sigh. “What time is it?” she whispered.

He glanced at the clock on the bedside table. “A quarter past ten.”

“Reed will be home soon. I'd be happy to stop over after work tomorrow to help you fix dinner for him, but I don't want to be in bed when he gets back tonight.”

Parker thought she had a valid point, and was prepared to agree with her when her hand inched down his abdomen.

“Hannah? What are you doing?”

Her laugh was deep and throaty. “If we want to be out of bed by eleven, we'd better hurry.”

He sucked in a ragged breath, and then another. He knew that somewhere along the way he'd lost control again. He'd have to find it. Later. Right now, there were lips to kiss, murmurs to hear, sighs to moan. And a woman who knew her own mind to drive wild all over again.

O
nce again, rock music greeted Hannah as she pulled into Parker's driveway. Today, it wasn't accompanied by raised voices. A bubble floated on the hot air, iridescent in the sun's rays. A few feet away, Reed Harrison Malone Wilder turned the hose on the soapsuds he'd just slathered on the hood of his uncle's car.

The boy's hair was hidden under a backward baseball cap, his upper torso, thin and wiry in youth, exposed to the burning high noon sun. Hannah couldn't help wondering if the chore was a peace offering from Reed, or a punishment from Parker. Reaching across her seat for the items she'd picked up at the supermarket minutes ago, she closed the door with her hip, smiling at the attention Reed was paying to his chore. Evidently, tall, lean and fastidiousness were dominant traits in the Malone family.

“Hello,” she called over the throbbing bass coming from a nearby radio.

Reed glanced at her, but said only, “Hey.”

“When did Parker get his car back?” she asked conversationally.

The boy reached for the soapy sponge. “Picked it up first thing this morning. Should have heard the riot act he read the mechanic because it wasn't clean.”

“Parker has extremely high standards.”

Reed made a sound that reminded Hannah of his uncle.
“The mechanic got even when he wrote up the bill. Uncle Parker didn't say a word all the way home.”

“Where is he now?”

Reed gestured to the house. Leaving the boy to his task, Hannah hefted the bags higher into her arms and went in search of Parker. She found him in the kitchen, stirring something in a big pot. She paused in the doorway, taking a moment to watch him, undetected. She wondered if he always dressed this way on Sundays. His feet were bare, as if he'd just changed his clothes and hadn't gotten to his shoes. Navy chinos were slung low on his hips, a burgundy shirt clinging to his chest and shoulders. She doubted she would ever tire of looking at him. Or spending time with him. Or loving him.

He'd invited her to dinner before she'd left last night. Although that was hours away, she'd called on her cell phone while she was running errands, offering her assistance, and asking if he needed anything. She couldn't have brought herself to repeat his suggestive response out loud, but her thoughts turned hazy at the memory alone.

He looked up and over, his gaze going directly to hers. She would never know how he knew she was there. She was holding very still, so it couldn't have been movement that drew his gaze. Something powerful passed between them, something Hannah yearned to call love. Afraid it was much too soon for that, she strolled further into the room and said, “I think I have everything you need. For the three-siren chili.”

She busied herself with removing items from the sacks. It gave her someplace to look, lest Parker should see in her eyes the part of the statement she left unsaid.
I have everything you need in a woman, too. So let yourself love me, Parker.

He went back to his task at the stove. Forbidding herself
to feel disappointed, Hannah placed the chili beans and tomato juice on the counter nearby. “What time did Reed get home last night?” she asked, rummaging through a drawer for a can opener.

“Eleven-thirty.”

Spying the device, she said, “Early enough to make a point, and not late enough to get in serious trouble.”

They were standing side-by-side, their shoulders close but not quite touching. She looked up at him, and felt sideswiped by his thoughtful expression. “I'm the one in serious trouble, Hannah.”

Hannah held perfectly still, on pins and needles because she wasn't sure if Parker was referring to his burgeoning feelings for her, or his responsibility to his nephew. “Everything is going to work out, Parker. You'll see.”

She held her breath, waiting.

The onions Parker was sautéing splattered noisily, drawing his attention. He stirred them in silence for a few seconds. When he finally spoke, he didn't look up. “It's strange, having a kid in the house. It's noisy, and he doesn't take care of anything. He loves chili, and won't eat chicken. I thought I knew him, but I never knew that.”

Hannah was disappointed, but she was also intrigued by the depth of feeling in Parker's voice. This was a side of him she'd barely glimpsed. “Did you tell him to wash your car?”

Parker shook his head. “I was going to, but Reed beat me to it. I figured it would be punishment for coming in late. He used it as a negotiation tactic for more freedom.”

She was smiling at the expression on Parker's face. “Did it work?”

“I came damn close to falling for it. I'm going to have to remember the technique. Someday it'll come in handy
in court. In the meantime, it isn't easy winning an argument with that kid. Hannah, what are you doing?”

She'd moved away from him, and had taken the other bag in her hand. “I picked up some potting soil and fertilizer for your poor fica plant. I can't stay long. I promised my mother I'd meet her at the Double Crown at two. She says she's always wanted to teach me to ride a horse, but really, after the other night, I think she's worried about me. I want to talk to her about Maria. Now that I think about it, she and Maria used to have plenty of arguments. The next time Reed tries to pick a fight, I suggest you try something more constructive than arguing. Something he sees as an even match.”

Parker stopped stirring the chili. He'd been feeling uneasy for days. He didn't want to be evenly matched with that kid. He was the adult, dammit. There was more to his unease than Reed. He just wasn't sure what it was.

Hannah disappeared from the room, only to return moments later, his sickly fica plant in tow. She spread newspaper on the floor, placed the potted plant in the center of it, and proceeded to open bags and packages.

She chose that moment to look his way, her gaze meeting his from the other side of the room. She smiled. Parker felt as if the wind had been knocked out of him. Although he tried, he couldn't return her smile.

“Hannah.”

“Hmm?”

Her voice was whisper-soft, her eyes, deep and dewy. He saw the symptoms, and he recognized the look of a woman who believed she was falling in love. He had to warn her, and stop her, at all costs. “I can have Lissett do that next week,” he said. “I've taken advantage of you enough already.”

Her gaze remained steady, but her smile drained away.
He knew from her expression that she understood what he was trying to tell her.

“You don't have to worry about me, Parker. I know exactly what I'm doing.”

“And what are you doing?”

She finally broke eye contact. “I'm saving this plant's life. Consider it my contribution to the cause.”

He stared at her for several tension-filled seconds. “I can't be your cause, Hannah.”

“Have I asked for promises, Parker?” He shook his head slowly. “Would you stop worrying? I'm a big girl. And I'm not complaining. In case you haven't noticed, I've had a good time these past few weeks.”

Parker continued to watch her for several seconds. Not entirely satisfied that she wasn't expecting forever from a man like him, he returned to Reed's chili.

Hannah went back to her task, doing everything in her power to keep the tremble in her fingers from showing. She'd heard the conviction in Parker's voice, saw it in his eyes. And she wasn't at all certain that she wouldn't end up with a broken heart.

She lifted the root-bound plant from the small pot. Replanting it in the larger container filled with new soil, she knew it was too late to turn back. She was in love with Parker. That meant her heart was already involved. All she could do now was follow it and see where it might lead.

 

“That's it, Hannah,” Lily told her daughter later that day. “The bridle goes like this. As soon as you get it fastened, I'll show you how to cinch the saddle nice and tight. Once you've mounted this docile creature, all you'll have to do is follow my lead.”

Keeping one eye on the horse, Hannah said, “Are you sure she's the most docile animal on the planet?”

“I'm sure.”

Hannah looked on as her mother fastened this, tightened that. The barn smelled of horses and hay. Dust particles twinkled in the sunbeams slanting from a high window, rays of light catching on the diamond tennis bracelet peeking from the cuff of Lily's shirt. The bracelet was precious to Lily, and until Ryan's divorce was final and she could wear his engagement ring, she would wear the bracelet day and night.

Her mother was happier than Hannah had seen her in a long time, and Ryan was a big part of the reason. Hannah dreaded doing or saying anything that would mar that happiness.

“I'm just about finished,” Lily said, straightening with an ease and agility that was somehow even more lovely in a woman of fifty-three. “We'll take it slow. Once you're feeling comfortable on old Ginnie here, you can tell me what's bothering you.”

There was no use wondering how her mother had known. Hannah knew Cole hadn't said anything. She'd returned her brother's call, but she hadn't given him any details, deciding instead that she should talk to Maria first. Unfortunately, Maria wasn't answering her phone or returning her calls.

“Are you sure we shouldn't be taking a walk instead?” Hannah quipped, looking the huge—okay, the docile—creature up and down. “Now that Rosita's had another dream, maybe we shouldn't tempt fate by taking any unnecessary risks.”

Lily shuddered. “That wasn't a dream. It was a nightmare.”

Hannah accepted the reins her mother placed in her hand. Following Lily's lead, she walked out into the corral. Lily was right. Rosita's dream was more nightmare than
anything else. It had been similar to the dream she'd shared with her and Adrienne weeks ago. Along with the three horses in Rosita's dream last night, she'd seen a faceless man in a cowboy hat and leather gloves. The dream had been hazy and unclear. The fear that had roused Rosita from sleep with a piercing scream had been real. Rosita was convinced it was a sign of a violent death, for lying next to the trail of blood had been a pair of leather gloves.

“We'll be careful,” Lily told Hannah. “But we can't stop living altogether because Rosita's had a metaphorical dream. The trails are groomed and safe. Now, reach up for the saddle horn…”

Hannah listened intently to her mother's instructions. Placing her foot in the stirrup, she swung herself onto the horse's back. Her movements were a little jerky, but she made it onto the saddle on her first try.

“Well? What do you think?” Lily asked, looking up.

“I think it's a good thing I'm not afraid of heights,” Hannah replied.

Lily's laughter rang out over the quiet afternoon. Moments later she mounted her favorite horse. Mother and daughter started toward a grassy lane.

 

From around the corner, in the shadows just inside the barn, Clint Lockhart flexed his gloved hands at his side. Shaking his head, he scowled. Dreams, premonitions. Hell, it was nothing but superstition, and he didn't believe in any of it. He believed in action, and planning, and thinking ahead. After all, a man never knew when something he saw or heard today would come in handy.

Besides, Clint hadn't had a dream in years. But he thought all the time. He was forty-three years old, and he'd spent years as a hired hand on the Fortune ranch, oversee
ing thousands of acres of land and an operation that should have been his. His, dammit.

His old man never should have sold out to Kingston Fortune. Clint had hated his father for doing that. He hated the Fortunes even more. He seethed whenever he thought of the way both his older sisters had betrayed him by marrying into the Fortune family. He spit. Seducing Sophia, Ryan's second wife, right here in this very barn had been gratifying for a while, but it wasn't nearly enough.

Clint wanted more than a romp in the hay with Sophia, the woman Ryan Fortune no longer wanted. He was sick to death of seconds. He wanted what was rightfully his. Clint had come to terms with the fact that the ranch would never be his. He could live with that, so long as he was compensated with money. Lots of it. Along with the money, he wanted revenge. He wanted to be revered. Most of all, he wanted the satisfaction that would come with knowing that all these years he'd spent planning had finally paid off.

Things had gone awry in his scheme to kidnap the Fortune baby to make Ryan pay in money, and in worry. So he'd been forced to relay information to Sophia. In the end, he would receive a hefty portion of her divorce settlement, as well.

In the end, he thought. The end of all his planning was so near he could practically taste it.

Stepping out of the shadows, he spit again. He could see Lily Cassidy and her daughter as they meandered toward the north lane. Clint shook his head. Hannah couldn't ride a horse worth a damn. She needed to loosen up a little. He knew of one surefire way to accomplish that. It would be a pleasure to show her how to wrap her long legs around him for the ride of her life.

The gathering tightness of his jeans reminded him of
how long it had been since he'd been able to get away to the city to meet Sophia and partake in that particular brand of pleasure. He bent his knee slightly, and pushed up the brim of his hat. Squinting into the sun, he watched the Cassidy women ride over the hill and out of sight.

His dusty boots creaked as he strode into the center of the corral and looked around. He wouldn't have minded a good, hard romp with either one of them. These days Lily had eyes only for Ryan. And he'd seen the daughter with that arrogant attorney who was trying to bilk Sophia out of her share of Ryan's fortune. It was just like a Fortune to assume they deserved the lion's share while everyone else got peanuts.

Clint hated Ryan, but even he couldn't blame the man for wanting to be rid of Sophia. Sophia was a world-class bitch. But she certainly knew what a man needed in bed. She could buck like a bronco and scratch like a barn cat.