Poker Face (14 page)

“See. I can do it myself.” She smiled sweetly down at him, settled
on top of Angel, pretty proud of herself.

He laughed, the sound another thing she would have to add to his
irresistible appeal. When Drew laughed it was as if all was right in the world.

“What?” he asked, when he found her studying him.

“I just like hearing your laughter. You should do it more often.”

“I have a feeling you’ll get to hear plenty of it today. Are you
sure you know how to handle a horse?”

“How hard can it be?” She wasn’t about to tell Drew that her
father had taught her how to ride when she was younger, before he’d become so
eaten up with cancer it was all he could do to make it to the bathroom without
soiling his underwear, he’d even lost that ability in his final weeks, reduced
to the use of a bedpan. It was slowly coming back to her: the feel of the reins
in her grip, the horses quivering muscles underneath her, the power… She
clicked her tongue, and Angel’s hoofs pounded out a steady rhythm as they
galloped across the open field, a blue cloudless sky above them.

God how could she have forgotten what it was like.

“Loosen your grip on the reins, sweetheart. Relax, there is
nothing to be afraid of.” Her father’s words.

I remember, daddy. I remember.

Tears welled up in her eyes, from either the wind in her face or
the emotions building up inside her. It was as if tiny pieces of her shattered
self were rimmed with magnets and all the lost pieces were being irrevocably
pulled back into their rightful place. Her chestnut hair whipped out behind
her, free from its usual ponytail, and her heels dug in, urging Angel to go
faster. And faster. Until the horse’s coat was slick with perspiration.

She vaguely heard Drew calls from somewhere behind her, but she
couldn’t stop. She didn’t want to stop. It had been too long, since she’d
remembered happier times when her family had been whole. And dammit, she wasn’t
ready to give that feeling up only minutes after she’d found it again. So she
leaned forward, switched the horse’s flesh with the ends of the reins.

She didn’t know how much distance they’d covered, because in her
mind, she was seven again. Her father close beside her, instructing her on how
to ride.

She was snapped out of her trance, when strong hands were suddenly
there, pulling back on the reins, bringing the clamoring horse to a slow stop.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing? Trying to kill yourself?!” He didn’t
give her time to answer before his boots hit the ground and he was yanking her
from the horse, his face tense, his words sharp. “Are you insane woman? You
could have been hurt! Not to mention, you damn near ran my favorite horse to
death. Well? Don’t you have anything to say?”

*****

Megan blinked, but said nothing as the tears spilled down over her
cheeks, cheeks slightly pink from the humiliation of being yelled at—he guessed,
all he knew was he felt like an ass, a major ass for making her cry. Honestly,
he had been more terrified for her safety, than anything else. When he watched
her take off on Angel without an ounce of caution, his heart had nearly stopped
in his chest. And now she stood only a few feet away, safe, her chest heaving
with every breath, so different than the spoiled girl he’d met that first day.
His gaze slowly drank her in: her windblown hair, her lips parted as if to tell
him she was sorry.

He’d never wanted a woman so much in his life. Damn it all to
hell. He breathed in a deep breath and tore his gaze away from her full, wet
lips, afraid of what he might say or do if he didn’t. Oh, he had flirted with
her, but it had all been innocent fun to watch her blush, but maybe he’d been
playing with fire, and if he wasn’t careful he might be the one to get burned.

Then Megan did the unthinkable by throwing her arms around his
neck, her warm cheek pressed against his. Her grip tightened around him, and he
involuntarily closed his eyes, a hand going to the small of her back. She
smelled like a field of sweet wild flowers. “Thank you, Drew. Thank you for
letting me ride Angel.”

Of all the unpredictable things she could have done in response to
his scolding, hugging him and thanking him ranked up there at the top. He was
speechless. Completely. After a few quiet minutes, he attempted to speak, “Um,
yeah, sure.” He handed her back her reins. “Just go easy on her from now on.”

Day Twelve

“You look as if someone has stolen your best friend.” Lillian
pressed her lips to the rim of the wine glass, her lips as red as the wine
swirling in the glass. She leveled Drew with her inquisitive gaze.

Once a month, ever since that morning he’d met Lillian standing
practically nude in his father’s kitchen, he and Lillian had met for lunch.
Yes, it was odd the woman jumped a plane just to come meet him for a couple of
hours. He figured it was her guilt, but ten years was an awful long time to
feel such guilt, guilt that obviously his own mother had never felt, so
somewhere deep down, Drew knew Lillian enjoyed his company, plain and simple.

And he enjoyed hers.

She had filled a void in his life.

The void a mother should fill.

In the beginning, when he was much too young to slip out to meet
her at a restaurant, she’d come to him, early in the day, after his father had
already left for the office. They would cook breakfast: pancakes and bacon,
same as that morning. Then, when Drew had become a teenager and could drive they’d
started meeting for lunch, somewhere nice, and quiet. He’d assumed once she’d
married Stratford their lunches would end, but they hadn’t.

Then there was Megan. Over their meal, Lillian would always share
her daughter's latest escapades from ten years of age to the day she’d dropped
out of college claiming it was a waste of time. Drew probably knew as much
about Megan as… well, as he knew about anybody. Of course, even though he’d
heard all about the first time she was grounded for sneaking in late, or he’d
heard about her prom date from hell, or the day she’d graduated from high
school… and how Lillian was beside herself because she couldn’t get her
daughter to commit to anything for longer than a week… yes, even though he’d
known all these things, he had never actually seen Megan, not in person, until
the day she’d stepped out of that taxi at the ranch. She had been everything he
had pictured in his head: beautiful like her mother, conceited, spoiled, and a
pain in the ass.

“Earth to Drew, hello, am I expected to talk to myself, or will
you be joining me at some point of the meal?”

He scrubbed his face with his hands, reached for his wine, his
mouth suddenly dry. “I’m sorry. What were you saying?”

Lillian placed her elbows on the table top, clasped her delicate
fingers. “Forget it. Let’s talk about you… let’s talk about this bet.”

Wine spewed from Drew’s mouth, and several customers at nearby
tables stopped what they were doing to gawk at the dribbling idiot making a
mess. Lillian hadn’t noticed, or hadn’t cared, he wasn’t sure which. Instead,
she picked up her fork, and took a bite of her grilled salmon.

Drew used the linen napkin to soak up his spilled wine, blood red
bleeding into white. “My father told you?”

“No. My husband is a lot of things, but a liar isn’t one of them.
He tells me everything. Like he told me your father paid him a surprise visit
yesterday.”

“Oh?” he prompted. Did he really want to know?

Her brow creased, and she focused her gaze on her plate.

“Lillian, what is it? Did my father do something I should know
about?”

“No. It’s what he said…”

The chair Drew was sitting in creaked as he shifted under the
glare she shot across the table. She was angry. At him. Shit. What had his
father told Stratford? “What did he say?”

“He’d come to see my husband to rub in his new win.”

“His win?” What the hell?

“Yes. Apparently, he took you and my daughter sleeping in the same
bed, as a reason to break out the champagne and celebrate… said the ranch is as
good as his. Is it?”

“Hell no!”

“So, you haven’t had sex with my daughter?”

In his mind, maybe, a dozen times, at least. “Lillian, really,
what do you think? Do you honestly think I’d do something so vile, just to
please my father?” He took a another sip of his wine, rolling it’s flavor over
his tongue. Vile? He was pretty certain having sex with Megan wouldn’t even
come close to being vile. But he’d already thrown the word out there,
backpedaling would only make matters worse.

The tension in her face smoothed, her red lips edged up at the
corners. “That’s what I thought, but then… I don’t know… something has changed
with you. Earlier, when I’d mentioned Megan you seemed to go someplace else,
instead of here with me...it’s almost like,” her eyes widened a fraction and
her jaw went slack as she settled her wine glass back on the linen tablecloth.
“Jesus, you’re in love with her!”

Wine spewed from his mouth for the second time. He really needed
to stop doing that. People were starting to stare. “I’m going to ignore that
you said that.” Was all he said.

“So you’re not going to try to deny it? How long?”

His head was spinning. He was having trouble holding onto his
silverware. Damn slippery shit. He had denied it. Hadn’t he? “How long, what?”

“How long have you been in love with my daughter?”

His voice lowered to a whisper, “I. Am. Not. In. Love. With.
Megan.”

A bark of laughter escaped from her mouth. “Your face is
incredibly red right now. And I do believe you are sweating, my dear. ”

He leaned in; they were the perfect image of two people in the
deepest part of a confidential conversation. “Maybe that’s because we’re
causing a scene.”

Lillian braced her elbows on the table, locking their gazes. “I’m
going to ask you again. Have you had sex with my Meg?”

This was absurd. “No. How many more times do I have to say it?”

“But you want to.” Lillian was too much like a mother. He’d told
her things he’d never told another soul. Things he probably shouldn’t have told
her. But it had been nice to have at least one adult to talk to, when his
father had been absent most of the time chasing a woman younger than the last.
As a result of all his shared secrets, Lillian could see right through all his
bullshit. And she took his silence as a straight answer. “Well? What are you
going to do about it?”

“Just what I’ve been doing… absolutely nothing.”

“So you’re going to let your asshole-of-a-father ruin your one
chance at true happiness?”

Now he was the one laughing. “You put an awful lot of faith in
your daughter's abilities. What makes you think she is my ONE chance at true
happiness?”

“Because I know for a fact you’ve never felt this way before,
Drew. You’re twenty four and you’ve never had sex with a woman… do you even
know how rare that is? And yes, I’m well aware of everything you were exposed
to as a child, but com’on you’ve got to be awful lonely…”

“That’s not exactly true… I’ve been with women.” He could feel his
cheeks growing hotter by the minute.

She lowered her voice another notch, “blowjobs don’t count.”

Silverware clanked against ceramic as he dropped his fork. “I
don’t want to talk about this with you. It’s not right. There has to be some
limits.”

“Way I see it… my husband is the one that got you into this mess.
He deserves to lose his stupid bet. You have my blessing.” She said with the
shrug of her shoulder, going back to eating as if they were discussing the
weather.

“How kind of you,” he managed to get out around the lump in his
throat. (This was crazy.) Okay, yes, he was attracted to Filly, and yes, she
made his blood boil, but love… that word was not found in the Mackenzie
dictionary, and if it was, the definition would read…. love and sex are one in
the same, both last about ten minutes, if you’re lucky.