Chapter 29 #2
Popping his lip out from under his top teeth, he smirks. “I’m going to love it so hard that it’s going to reawaken all those aches that have started to fade.”
Oh my! “I like the sound of this very much.”
“Get the barn ready for us.”
“It will be ready, alright.”
To my dismay, he gets out of bed and clicks the remote to open the blinds. “I’ll go grab coffee and muffins for us and let you pack.” Pulling on his jeans, he adds, “I’ll ride with you to the airport.”
“That could be two hours round trip.” Sitting up, I add, “It’s not necessary. You can spend that time with Beck since you pick him up today.”
He’s watching me as he pulls on a T-shirt. It’s not the same style of jeans or shirt he’d wear back in Texas, but he looks good. “You sure? This isn’t something we need to decide right now.”
“No, it’s fine. You can plan your day.”
Coming around the bed, he leans over it to kiss me. “I’ll be back soon.”
Flopping back on the mattress, I grin. “I’ll be here waiting.”
“You don’t know how much I fucking love that.” He gives me a wink before disappearing down the hall. I hear the door open and then close, the sound reaching all the way down the hall.
I reluctantly get up and steal one of Tagger’s Michigan State college shirts. Slipping it over my head, it drapes down to my mid-thighs. It’s soft, and the faintest scent of him is embedded in the fabric. I take a deep inhale.
Then I get to business and refold my clothes and organize my suitcase before laying the dress on top of it. I’m not sure how to travel with it, so I wonder if I should leave it here for when I visit. Where would I wear it there anyway?
Basically done, I spread-eagle over the top of this glorious bed to take advantage of it while I can.
The sound of the door opening and then the louder closing of it makes me smile. “In the bedroom,” I call out, thinking coffee and muffins in bed sounds divine.
“Hello.” Startled by the feminine voice, I pop my head off the pillow to find a woman standing in the doorway. “Shouldn’t you be cleaning?”
“What?” I sit up and watch her eyes dip to my chest. The shirt. I don’t feel like I’m in danger and could probably take her if I had to if she doesn’t have a weapon. “I’m a guest—”
“Of Tagger’s.” Disappointment coats her throat, and she looks toward the windows letting the sunshine in. “I thought you were the cleaning crew.”
“No.” I push up, dipping my legs under the covers as if they’ll protect me and hold them to my chest. “I’m his girlfriend.
You?” Please don’t say his girlfriend, too.
It’s not like I think he’d ever do that to me in a million years, but I’ve seen enough movies that play out like that with pilots having families in different cities and— “Who are you?”
“I’m the mother of Tagger’s son,” she replies like she’s birthed the heir to the throne.
I guess she did, technically. It’s not a title that can ever be taken away.
I exhale a breath, somehow relieved she’s not breaking in and defeated that I had to meet Anna this way—a bird’s nest for hair, no makeup to hide my freckle-covered face and dark circles, and naked under this Spartans shirt.
I’m not sure what I’m supposed to say. “Beckett is an incredible kid.”
She crosses her arms over her chest, looking horrified, judging by the lines she’s trying so hard to form between her brows on her already tight face. “How do you know my son?”
“Um . . .” I have a strong suspicion that I just screwed up. Do I lie to her? It would be easy to get to the truth. All she would have to do is ask Beck or Tagger, for that matter. Go with the truth. It’s always best. “He came to the ranch when Tagger and he were visiting Peachtree Pass.”
The sneer vanishes instantly, and she laughs. “You’re from his hometown in Texas?”
“Yes. We’ve known each other a long time.”
“Tagger has a girlfriend from his hometown in Texas?” she asks, but it’s not really sounding like she wants an answer, especially since she already got it. Her gaze goes to my suitcase, and then returns to me. “What is your name?”
“Christine.”
“Christine.” She stares at me as if it’s the first time she’s heard it. Not exactly an original name but it’s not as sour as she makes it sound. “Miss Christine.”
It was at that moment I realized I’m a dead woman walking in her eyes. “Beck calls me Miss Christine.”
“I know he does. He’s mentioned you before.” Her arms lower to her sides, and she says, “I had an image of some sweet little old lady who was baking pies and feeding her pigs the leftover scraps from dinner.”
“Well, I’m not old, but the other part isn’t so foreign. Beck fed the horses—”
I go silent when her palm flies up. “The name fits where you’re from.”
My head juts back on my neck. “Did you just insult me?”
“Is it an insult to reference your town?” Dumb is the last thing I believe Anna is, though she’s feigning it.
I lower the covers, the fear long gone. “I’m proud of where I’m from.”
“It’s so cute. Tagger used to say the same thing until he realized how it made him look like a foolish cowboy to everyone.”
“Only assholes,” I bite back. She laughs, though I don’t.
Nodding, she says, “I can’t even argue because it’s probably true.
” She points at the dress lying across my suitcase.
“It’s really brave of you to wear a piece from three seasons ago.
I could never do it, but it suits you.” She turns and starts down the hall.
“I stopped by for Beckett’s navy-blue cardigan.
We have lunch down at the pier with friends. ”
I sit there, more astounded than upset. I don’t give a crap what she says about that pretty dress, and who cares how she feels about my name.
But the jab about the Pass pisses me off.
I get out of bed and wait in the room, debating if I’d love for Tagger to walk in to defend me or hoping he’s never the wiser she was here.
None the wiser wouldn’t ruin our final hour together. So I hope he doesn’t run into her.
When I hear the door close, I tiptoe into the hallway and down to the living room. She’s gone, but the damage of her presence still lingers, like her perfume. It’s not strong and actually smells really good. Damn her.
I get my jeans on and put on a bra under the shirt I’m stealing. When I slip a sweater over my arms, I don’t bother buttoning it up. That’s when I hear the door open. “Hey babe, sorry. The fucking crowds of this city are relentless.”
“It’s okay.” I come to the kitchen, where he’s laid out what he’s hunted and gathered for me.
Sliding my fingers into the hair at the back of his head, I kiss him—long and deep and filled with the passion he’s shown me all weekend.
When I pull back, I lick the corners of my lips, and say, “I’m going to miss you so much. ”
Am I marking my territory? Maybe.
Am I making sure he knows exactly what he’ll be missing? Absolutely.
His arms come around my waist, and he’s so handsome when he grins that I consider changing my flight so I never leave his arms again. “Nice shirt.”
“You like it?”
“So fucking sexy, babe.”
We kiss once more, but this time when our lips separate, the inevitable sinks in. I’m leaving, and he’s staying. “We have the Peach Festival to look forward to.”
“Three weeks. That’s all.” Caressing my face, he wipes under my eyes with his thumb, catching the sadness before it falls. “It will fly by. I promise.”
Light laughter escapes me. “I hear you’re not the best at keeping promises.”
“I’ve broken one promise,” he exclaims through laughter. “One.” Kissing my head, he then hands me a blueberry muffin. “And it was worth it.”
The winds were with my flight, so we landed early. Thankfully.
I’m so ready to be out of my head thinking about that encounter with Anna.
I’m not sure how I feel—both irritated and small.
I hate that I allowed someone to affect me that way.
I had no clever comeback, but that wouldn’t have been the right thing to do.
Starting a war with her will never end for me when they share a son.
And I care about Beckett and his well-being enough to tolerate a little insult.
I’m still conflicted about whether I did the right thing by not mentioning it to Tagger. Everything comes out in the wash, they say. Do I want to control the narrative by pleading my case first, or is staying silent the right thing to do? I don’t know. It’s given me a lot to think about, though.
The earlier arrival time allows me to stop by Peaches before they close on my way home. I swing the door open, and sing, “I’m baaaack.”
Lauralee comes from the kitchen and greets me with a huge smile on her face. “Hey, you. How was the conference?” I meet her at the counter, and we stretch over it to hug.
“What conference?” Oh crap! It dawns on me too late. This is why I should never lie.
“The Farmers of Central Texas conference you just attended all weekend in Dallas.”
A humorless laugh rattles my throat. “Oh, that. Right. It was a convention, not a conference.” I inwardly roll my eyes at how ridiculous that sounds.
Grimacing, she says, “I didn’t know there was a difference.”
“Oh yeah.” I try to leave it at that and add, “The place looks good.”
“What’s the difference?”
I reach for a cup and head for the fountain machine. “One serves coffee. Was it busy this weekend with the peaches starting to ripen?”
She replies, “It’s picking up.”
Coming to the counter, I dig a bill out of my wallet, thinking it’s in my best interest to hightail it home because I know I’ll fail a Lauralee Knot interrogation. “Keep the change,” I say, already heading for the door.
“It’s a twenty.”
Oops. I wave it off like I’m Ms. Moneypants, then shoulder the door open. “Keep it. See you soon.”
Really not wanting a repeat of what happened at Peaches, I’m more careful and have the story straight by the time I reach the ranch. I open the door and drag in my suitcase. Seeing the back of his head in the living room, I say, “Hi, Dad, I’m home.”
He gets up from his recliner and comes to give me a big hug. “Christine, how is my daughter?”
“I’m good. How about you? Have you had dinner?”
“I’ve eaten and saved you a plate.” He moves into the kitchen and pulls a plate out of the oven. “I kept it warm for you.”
Even a liar like me would change their ways over that kindness. “Thanks, Dad.”
“How was the conference?”
I sigh, knowing I can’t keep this up for long. “Enlightening.”