Texas Hope: Sweetgrass Springs Stories (Texas Heroes Book 16) (18 page)

“I’m not—okay, maybe a little. You don’t have to fight this, you know. There’s nothing wrong with enjoying it. The reason you’re so miserable is that you’re denying what your heart is telling you.”

“Oh, get stuffed. You write romance novels. You think happy endings are real. You honestly believe love is easy.”

“That I most certainly do not, and you know it. Love takes work. A lifelong love takes both people working their tails off.”

“It should be easy.”

“You’ve had easy, Laken. That’s all you ever allow yourself, the easy conquests.”

Dancing while you size up your next meaningless encounter? Or cruising the warehouse district for the next body you’ll screw and then forget?

Was he right? “I just can’t see—”

“You know, for a wild child, you are overthinking this like crazy,” Ava noted.

“Me?”

“What are you so afraid of? That he’s worth it?” Ava’s head cocked. “Or that you’re not?”

Laken froze. “That’s ridiculous.”

“Is it? Laken, Michael Cavanaugh could have any woman he wanted. He’s got it all—he’s gorgeous, he’s kind and charming and strong, kittens and puppies and horses love him—”

“And women. Don’t forget women,” she said darkly.

“My point is that he chose you for a reason.”

“I don’t think so. I’d bet he’s really sorry he ever met me.” She jumped up and headed for the shower, but halted and looked back. “I was awful to him. But he was awful to me.”

“Michael?” Ava was clearly shocked.

“Yeah. I mean, he apologized, and he felt terrible, but…see what I’ve done to him already? How much worse could it get if I let down my guard?”

Ava sighed. “Or how much better could it get if you’d take the chance?”

You make it hard, Laken, because you won’t give an inch. But that’s your fear talking.

“Go see him,” Ava urged. “See what he likes about that place. At least meet his brother—come on, aren’t you at least curious about that? Two Michaels?”

She was curious, but—“He stole my dog.”

Ava grinned. “Then go steal him back. Come on, girlfriend, you’re the ballsiest woman I know. Man up. He can’t make you fall in love with him if you don’t want to.”

She was deathly afraid he already had. “Love sucks.” She turned and started stripping for the shower.

“Aw, you hopeless romantic,” Ava jeered. “Stop embarrassing me with your gushing.”

“Bite me,” Laken retorted as she plunged into the water.

And grinned as her friend exited laughing. All right. She’d go see Podunk Springs, but only for a weekend. Then she’d come back to real life.

And Ajax was returning with her.

She sighed even as she thought that. Clearly he was better off with Michael.

So she’d get her fill of puppy cuddles, then she’d go.

Okay, and maybe if Michael had gotten over being upset with her, she might also make generous use of his body. Get him out of her system.

Then she’d come home and get back to work.

Once more, Sophia lay awake in the deepest night, her body weary, her soul needing succor, but her mind would not let her be.

Yet one more night she arose and made her way over the plush carpet to the small wooden box she could not seem to put away.

Just as the memories wouldn’t stay buried.

“You’re crying, sweetheart. Are you in pain?” Gordon’s deep voice rumbled as he pulled her close.

She opened her eyes to see his gray ones dark with worry.

“Sophia, are you hurting?” He brushed the mound of her belly. “Do I need to call the doctor?”

She shook her head. “I’m fine.” Her hand covered his much larger one over their sleeping babe. “I’m just…” She looked away. “It’s silly.”

Gordon lifted her hand to his lips. “Nothing that worries you is silly. Tell me.”

She looked up into his strong, handsome features. “Are you ever afraid, Gordon?”

“Of what?”

That summed him up: fearless. Gordon McLaren had his boots planted on firm ground, always. He knew who he was. Where he belonged.

While she… “I miss my mother.”

His eyes softened more. “Of course you do. A woman should have her mother near when she gives birth. Invite her to come.”

Sophia tried to imagine her patrician mother on this ranch. She would see only dirt. Animals who would frighten her, fill her with distaste.

Anyway, she’d already put out feelers. Her mother had responded by offering to send a plane to bring her home.

I am home, Mother.

You aren’t. You will never be.

But Sophia didn’t want to hurt this noble man who couldn’t be faulted for the life he’d chosen. The land was him and he was the land. That simple.

She pressed her palm to his jaw. “That’s the dream me, the one who has a mother who would actually get her hands dirty,” she said to him. “I’m fine, it’s just that…”

“What?”

“What if I can’t be enough for him? My mother is…cold. I mean, I know she loves me, but…” She shook her head. “I want to be more. I want our baby to have all the love he could ever need.”

“He will.” Gordon’s tone rang with assurance. “Sophia, I could move back there with you, if that’s what you need.” That even a hint of shame at not being enough for her darkened his eyes made her furious. “I know that’s where you belong, the life you were born to live. If you need me to—”

She stopped his words with her fingers. “What I need is you. It’s all I’ll ever need, you and our babies.” It would be true. She’d make it true.

He might have spotted the doubts she couldn’t completely banish, but she changed the subject with a kiss.

It quickly turned to more as love once again rode to the rescue.

Her fingers tightened on the box, every inch of it built with love.

But love hadn’t rescued them. Love had not been enough. Hot tears rained down her cheeks as she opened the box and withdrew the locket, opened it with a tiny click.

Stared at the toddler’s round cheeks, his brown eyes the mirror of her own. Of his brother’s.

When Michael had been born, she’d given him Ian’s middle name as a small, private gesture to the firstborn she’d tried so hard to put out of her mind. But everything brought up memories. She’d put every bit of love she’d hoarded for Ian into caring for her second child.

But her heart never got over Ian…stubborn love, painful love, vengeful love. She’d buried the pain, but now it was all resurrected.

Oh, Ian
… She closed her fingers around the locket and held it to her breast. Sank to the floor and hunched over it. She wanted to know her oldest son again, but from all reports, he loathed her.

As he should.

There was no coming back from such a blow. A mother should never, ever leave her child. Her own survival shouldn’t have mattered. She should have found a way.

Yet Michael would not exist if she hadn’t, and Michael had contributed much to the world.

You’ve made your bed. Live with what you did.

But even as she rose to replace the locket in the box, the memory of all the love and hopes she’d felt when her own belly had been rounded with child made her hesitate. Michael said that Ian’s Scarlett loved him deeply and eagerly awaited their child.

She deserved to have this locket. Sophia did not.

She closed the box and put everything back except the locket. Giving it away with the lock of Ian’s hair—all she had left of him—would sever a link she wasn’t sure she could live without. But it was the right thing to do.

Only…how?

Perhaps she could ask Michael to give it to his brother’s wife.

Even as the thought crossed her mind, she knew that was wrong. She couldn’t put Michael in that position. He was trying to forge a relationship with his brother, and interjecting Ian’s faithless mother would do them no good.

Gordon doesn’t blame you.

Gordon. She would send it to him and let him decide if the locket would be cherished or scorned. She didn’t know this woman who loved her firstborn.

And she would never know the child they made together.

Her…grandchild. Abruptly her chest went tight with pictures of what could have been, Christmases and birthdays celebrated by three generations, watching the discoveries in a child’s eyes, being part of a history, a tradition…

Sophia looked around at the icy castle she inhabited, every inch tasteful perfection and cold comfort, a pitiful substitute for hugs and messy kisses, noise and laughter and wonder…all that she’d given up.

Because she hadn’t been strong enough.

Because she’d failed her firstborn, her beloved Ian, too deeply for even time to erase.

Gordon might forgive her, but she would never forgive herself.

Penelope Gallagher Calhoun was behind the grill at Ruby’s place, giving Scarlett the afternoon off while Pen juggled calls on her bluetooth and listened to Harley and Arnie’s broadcast.

Arnie was reading the next item. “We have here a trip for two to Hawaii as the prize for whoever will come clean out a garage at 422 Oak Street—” Arnie started chuckling, and Harley’s yelp could be heard in the background.

“Dang it, Melba, that’s not funny!” Harley spoke into his microphone. “I told you I’d get to it.”

Henry snickered at the prep table, and Jeanette hooted.

Pen shook her head and joined the laughter.

Then someone entered the cafe, a tall, slender woman with spiky black hair and designer clothes, down to a pair of Jimmy Choos Pen had nearly bought herself. The look was one Pen recognized only too well.

Not From Here
.

“It’s like looking at you,” Brenda breathed.

Complete with bluetooth in her ear. “So true. Can we help you?” she called out while she admired the cut of the pencil skirt, the tailoring on the blouse so subtle it could only be a designer’s touch.

Pen fancied her own pencil skirts were getting tight and would soon have to be retired. She could only grin.
Bridger, you big gorgeous hunk, you knocked me up good
.

The woman halted and looked around as though she’d found herself in the wilds of Africa. “Are you Ruby?”

“Take over, will you?” Pen said to Henry.

“Sure thing.”

She emerged from the kitchen, untying her apron. “Aunt Ruby’s at the house right now.”

The woman’s gaze scanned her middle. “You’re not Scarlett. She’s very pregnant.”

“Nope. Neither of them reaches my shoulder. I’m Pen Calhoun.” She extended a hand.

The woman’s gaze scanned her attire. “That’s Tory Burch. I nearly bought that skirt.”

“I almost bought your shoes.” Pen was a smart woman and put the pieces together quickly. “You’re here for Michael.”

Immediately the woman stiffened and frowned. “You know Michael?”

“Everybody knows Michael. But I’m practically family. Scarlett is my cousin. I’m the COO of Enigma Games. Welcome to Sweetgrass.”

Fine dark brows flew high and green eyes widened. “But…you’re cooking in a diner.”

She was clearly off-balance. Pen took pity on her. “Brenda, bring us each a cup of coffee and a bowl of Ruby’s cobbler.”

“It’s Scarlett’s cobbler today,” Jeanette prompted, approaching. “I want to look at your blouse.”

“What?”

“Jeanette, when are you going to give up calling yourself a waitress? With your talents at clothing design, you are wasted here. Hasn’t Hayley convinced you to come to L.A. yet?”

“L.A.?” the stranger echoed.

“Your name…something unusual. Laken, that it?”

“You know my name?”

You’re the reason Michael’s been moping around
, Pen started to say, but she wouldn’t give this woman the satisfaction. She knew women like her—shoot, she’d been a woman like her. “Shark lawyer. Proud of it, too?”

Laken’s eyes narrowed.

“Oh, don’t get your nose out of joint. I used to be you. Harvard Law. Long and Graves in D.C.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Besides helping my brother run his video game empire and filling in so Scarlett will get off her feet for a while?” She found herself grinning. “You know, I think I get why everyone was so amused at me.”