Chapter Twenty One
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
B RENT WATCHED AS HENRY prodded the baby squirrel's mouth with the eyedropper. He'd located an unopened can of formula his mother had used last fall with an abandoned kitten she'd found. He wasn't sure a baby squirrel ate the same thing a baby kitten did, but it had to be close.
"He won't eat," Henry said, a furrow between his eyes. "Shouldn't he be hungry? I think I would be if I fell out of a tree."
Brent took the eyedropper from the boy and tucked the old dishrag around the baby squirrel that had been tossed from his nest during the storm. The poor thing looked more like a small mouse. He and Henry had discovered him beneath one of the limbs they'd been stacking in the comer of the yard. It had scared the hell out of him when it had moved. It was a wonder one of the cats or Apple hadn't gotten to it. "It's probably stunned and wanting its momma."
Dang it. The words were out of his mouth before he thought better of them. He didn't want Henry thinking about his mother not being there. He was worried enough about her fool self driving home when tornadoes were ripping across their part of the state. She had to be okay. Had to. Until she got home, he’d distract Henry, keep him safe.
Henry looked wistful for a moment before shrugging the feelings off and picking up the small cardboard box they'd placed the little squirrel in. He looked down at the big-eyed animal. "I know how you feel little guy. I miss my momma, too."
Brent patted Henry's shoulder. "She'll be back soon. Hey, the Yankees are looking for a new pitcher. You up for the task?"
Henry smiled. "I can't pitch for the pros. Yet."
Brent laughed. ''That's the spirit. Always expect you'll get where you want to go, Hank."
The boy looked down at the animal Brent had forbidden him to touch. Who knew if baby squirrels had rabies... or other diseases? "I'll tell you where I don't want to go. New York. Only thing good about that place is they get snow. I never got to build a snowman before."
The heart in Brent's chest constricted at the thought of Henry and Rayne living in New York. Without him. When had he gotten so damned attached? Oh, yeah. The day both of them walked into his backyard.
He sent Henry to his parents' porch with the box and instructions to set it on the table and pull the screen over the top to prevent hungry cats from finding a snack. Then he turned toward the large limb that had fallen onto the rope hammock, breaking the frame.
As he broke off the branches that snagged in the ropes, he heard Henry singing to the squirrel. It was the "Goodnight" song Rayne had always sung to him when they were young. The sound made his heart lighter.
He'd make things work with them. Somehow.
New York was the capital of the publishing business. Moving there wouldn't be a bad move. He could lunch with his agent, meet with his editor rather than having long telephone conversations about revisions and visions for more books. He could write anywhere. He didn't really want to. He'd never loved city life the way many did. Didn't give a rat's ass about Starbucks on every corner, good martinis, or designer clothes. Hated the constant noise and congestion. And, hell, Central Park was always crowded with those stroller-pushing jogging nannies and homeless nutjobs looking to score some blow. At least that's how they portrayed it on TV.
He couldn't see himself there. Were there old men in feed stores to drink coffee with? Bass fishing with Talton and Bubba? Sunsets and sunrises that took the breath away? Crickets? Cows? Eight-dollar haircuts? Betty Monk's chess pie?
He didn't think so.
But surprisingly, after his parents and uncle met with Tyson Hart, they'd agreed to sell half the company to him. Their construction company was now Hamilton Hart Builders. With that move, Brent had been pretty much freed to go wherever life took him.
If that meant New York, then so be it.
"Brent?" Her voice sounded like the velvet night sky. Or the calm after the storm. Or merely the woman he loved.
He turned and saw Rayne framed in the gate, the way she had been that day over a month ago. His heart soared as relief pooled in his stomach.
"Where's Henry?" she asked. Tenseness knotted her shoulders; worry creased her brow.
"Mom!" Henry shrieked, flying off the porch and into her arms. She dropped to her knees, closed her eyes, and held her son tight against her. Then she kissed his face all over while simultaneously checking him with her hands. She pulled back, looked at him, and then pulled him back into her arms for another hug.
“Mom…jeez!” Henry wriggled under her duress.
"I was so worried about you, pumpkin. So afraid that you were scared to death," she said, giving her son a shaky smile."You okay?”
Henry nodded. "'Course I am. Brent came and got me. Well, not got me 'cause he can't check me out But he stayed with me and we read an article on the NFL draft. See, I told you he would be a good person to put on my list."
She nodded, briefly meeting Brent's eyes. "So you did."
Henry disengaged himself from Rayne, grabbed her hand, and tugged her toward the porch. "Come see what me and Brent found."
"What Brent and I found,” she corrected, flashing him a hesitant smile before following her son to the box sitting atop the wicker table.
"Yeah, that's what I said,'' Henry said.
Brent couldn't stop a smile from twitching at his lips. He wanted to go to her, take her in his arms, especially after feeling panicky that she’d braved the storm. But what could stop a mother's love?
Not anything as measly as an F-2 tornado.
He tried to pretend he wasn't watching her ooh and ah over the baby squirrel they'd rescued. He broke more branches, finally untangling the large limb before dragging half the hammock with him across the yard.
Rayne appeared at his elbow as he tossed the remnants of the old Carolina hammock on the discard pile.
''Hey," she said, brushing his back. It was like hot flames licking his skin, a mixture of pleasure and pain.
"You made it back,'' he said, not yet meeting her eyes.
He didn't want her to see how much he wanted her. How much he needed to grab hold of her the same way she'd done to Henry minutes before.
“Harder than I thought it would be. Little windy” she joked, snaking her arms around his waist, squeezing him. "Thank you. Thank you so much. For taking care of Henry. For being there for him when he needed it."
Wrapped in Rayne's arms was exactly where he wanted to be, but he couldn't allow himself the pleasure. Not when he hung in limbo. He gave her a squeeze, unwrapped himself from her, and stepped away. "You're welcome."
He could feel her question in the silence. And he thought about all the times he’d unwrapped a woman from his body and moved away from her. Too many times. He’d always comforted himself that they knew the score, that what they’d done was understood. Now he knew how they felt. Well, some of them.
Because he wanted Rayne Rose to love him, to choose him, to stay with him and make his life better.
And he was fairly certain she was going to do to him what he’d done to so many others.
She was going to walk away.
RAYNE WATCHED AS brENT moved away from her. He'd pulled away. Physically. Mentally. And it hurt. The vibes were deep, and after the afternoon of near exhausting emotions, she didn't want to wade through more with Brent. Not yet.
But obviously she wasn't getting what she wanted.
"Why did you pull away?" she asked, latching her hands behind her back and keeping an eye on Henry as he tossed a ball for the Boston terrier that belonged to the Hamiltons.
Brent didn't answer. Just stared at the sagging gutter on the side of the Hamilton's house. He seemed so not himself.
"Brent?"
He turned toward her. "Did you come back for Henry? Or for me?"
Rayne opened her mouth, but Henry chose that moment to run toward them. He galloped full speed tugging on the dog's rope toy. "Hey, Mom. Can we get a dog? I think I need one."
Brent glanced at Henry and then back at her. She opened her mouth and then closed it as Henry looked at Brent.
"Apple's not yours, is she? She's your mom and dad's, huh?” Henry went right on talking as he tugged the now-growling dog in circles around them. "Maybe I can get one just like her. I mean she's cute with her mashed-up nose, huh? Can I, Mom?"
"Henry. Please stop pulling that dog. Brent and I are trying to talk. Take her to the porch," Rayne said, trying to tamp down the irritation she felt at being interrupted. Ten minutes ago she'd kissed Henry all over his sweet little face. Now she felt exasperation creeping in. The timing was off. She couldn't talk to Brent about their complicated relationship after a tornado had swept through town. Not with Henry whirling around them much as the storm had done. Not in the side yard of his parents' house with rain dripping from the trees.
“I can’t, Mom. She might eat that baby squirrel. She likes to eat frogs, too. Brent says they make her throw up. So-"
''Now,” she said trying not to yell.
Henry gave her a hurt look but slunk toward the porch, dragging the dog with him. Apple had her teeth clamped on the rope and shook her head ferociously.
Guilt flooded Rayne. "Um, after I finish talking to Brent, I'll get you a Pop-Tart.”
Henry visibly brightened.
Great. She now used processed food to bribe her child. She'd sunk to a new low. She opened her mouth to say "nevermind" as Brent's mother stepped onto the porch. She called for Henry to come have some gingersnaps and milk. He threw Rayne a questioning look before looking back at Mrs. Hamilton.
The older woman didn't give Henry time to refuse. She turned and disappeared into the large house. Apple, who obviously knew what gingersnaps were, took off, abandoning her rope toy in the wet grass. Henry followed.
Rayne glanced at Brent. He brooded. She hadn't seen him do that in quite a while. "Brent?"
He looked at her, his light blue eyes so indecipherable. "What happened in New York?"
"Before we talk about me and New York, let's talk about what happened here. What have you heard about damage? Is everyone okay?" She looked around but there was no place to sit. Everything was wet including her feet. Strappy sandals weren't the best choice for slogging through storm-strewn yards.
Ever in tune to her, Brent jerked his head toward the carriage house. "Let's sit on my porch and talk."
They walked silently toward Brent's place and sat on the edge of the porch, side by side, but not touching. No comfortable sliding into favorite blue jeans feeling between them. Rather the air pressed them. As if the storm wasn't really over.
Brent broke the awkward moment. "The town is messed up pretty good, but we'll survive. I'll need to go help with the cleanup later, but I felt it was more important for Hank to feel safe. Even after your aunt picked him up, he looked freaked out. I figured putting him to work helping me clean up around here would keep his mind occupied."
"Thank you for thinking about him."
"Why wouldn't I? You don't give me much credit, do you?"
Rayne’s chest tightened at his words. "You know that's not true."
He met her response with silence, his gaze much more telling than any words he could speak. She'd hurt him and he'd been nursing it. "I didn't know you were coming home today."
"Coming home," she said, smoothing her skirt against her thighs. "Sounds weird. For the past few years my vision of home was so different from this, but, yeah, it’s still home to me.”
He didn't say anything. Didn't even look at her. On one level it made her angry. He didn't know anything about what she felt, and yet, he pulled away. On an other level, she understood. He was trying to protect himself. She'd done the same once. She'd written that poem challenging him to be who he longed to be and challenging him to love her. When he did neither, she'd packed up and run. She supposed he thought she was doing the same now, except the shoe was on the other foot.
He'd declared his love and wanted her at his side.
"You know," Brent said, interrupting the plop of rain dripping from the eaves. "So many times I gave girls the boot. I wasn't an asshole about it or anything. But I never knew how they felt. How they wanted more from me than what I could give. Now I get it. I see how bad it sucks to put your eggs in a basket only to have them dropped and cracked."
Rayne slid her hand over to his. ''Who says I'm cracking your eggs? Now who's the one not giving the other person a fair shake?"
He straightened but tightened his grip on her hand. "I can't really ask you to stay here. You've been working hard for a long time to get to this moment. You need to take it. You have to take it."
She nodded. "Yes, I do. I mean, I am."
"So, New York it is," he said, turning his hand over and grasping hers. "I guess I’ll get used to the noise."
"What?" She nearly broke her neck she turned her head toward him so hard. He looked almost smug sitting there in tight blue jeans, a damp T-shirt, and a knowing smile.
“If you're going to New York City, then I'm going, too. I told my dad I won't be buying into Hamilton Construction. I'm rolling the dice and trying writing as my full-time job. I may end up sleeping on benches in Central Park, but I believe in us. So, where you go, I will go."
She couldn't believe his words. He'd move to New York for her? She couldn't imagine him living anywhere else but where he now sat. He loved Oak Stand. He loved Texas. But he loved her more.
Whatever the heck cockles were, well, hers were warmed.
“Let me get this straight. You’re going to move to New Yock City with all those cabs and crowded streets. With the lights blinking on and off all hours of the night and horns honking and-"
"Well, you’re not really making it easy to want to, Rayne Rose," he said, heavy on the sarcasm. But he didn't let go of her hand.
"You're serious about making this work, aren't you?"
He shrugged. "I've spent years merely existing. I love this little town. I have lots of good memories here, but when you walked back into my world, everything changed. What I wanted changed. What I needed changed."
She blinked at the emotion lacing his words. It made her humble... and happy.
"But what I really need to know, Rayne-bow, is if you want me there with you."
Rayne felt a clog form in her throat. Raw tears perched unshed in the back of her throat, and a huge sweeping warmth flooded her. At that moment, she couldn't have talked if it would have saved her life. She shook her head and waved her hands, trying to rein in her emotions. But they wouldn't be held. Today had been too much. His words had been too much.
"Hey, babe. Don't cry," Brent said, his voice gentle. He moved closer, sweeping an arm around her shoulders and gathering her into him. She fell against him, making noisy half sobs into his shirt. She wanted to stop crying. To make him understand how much his words meant to her, but her body didn't obey. So she went with it. She let out all her fear from the past few hours, all her regrets with Brent, all her pent-up frustrations.
After a minute or two, she pulled away and wiped her cheeks. Oddly enough, she felt much better. Cleansed.
"Sorry," she croaked. "I guess everything from today came crashing in on me.”
Brent withdrew his arm and gave a heavy sigh.
She lifted her legs from where they hung off the porch and tucked them beneath her. She grabbed Brent's hand and tugged until he focused those gorgeous baby blues on her. "I have always loved you. Maybe from the very moment I saw you. We clicked. Like we were supposed to go together. Even when I married Phillip, I didn't feel that same connection."
Something moved in his eyes. Something possessive. Something that said he knew what she felt.
"I loved Phillip. He was a good man. Had a good sense of humor and he loved me. I would never have left him for you. He wouldn't have deserved that."
She pressed her lips together and looked away from his probing gaze. Looked at the tiny spiderweb in the corner of the porch. Laying her heart out, even with Brent, made her feel naked. So vulnerable.
"But Phillip isn't here anymore. And I think God gave me a second chance with you."
She riveted her eyes on his and tried like hell not to cry anymore. "I don't want to let that chance go, but you can't come to New York with me."
"But I will. I don't mind leaving Oak Stand if it means having you and Henry in my life." He rifled a hand through his dark hair, making it stick up. The pain in his eyes nearly undid her.
She smiled. "No, that's not what I meant. I don't want you to move to New York because I won't be there. I'll be here."
"You'll be here?'
She nodded. "Yeah. In Oak Stand."
"How? I thought you said you took the job?"
"I did."
"So... ?" He spread his large calloused hands apart. She took them in her own, marveling at the strength. The tenderness of this man who'd finally given his heart away.
"So the show is going to be produced here in Oak Stand. At the inn. The main reason why the offer didn't progress several months ago was because the network had too many instructional shows and viewers were flipping channels and not sticking around to watch how-to shows. The network has been brainstorming new ways to bring in viewers."
Brent's eyes narrowed. "So you had no idea they would do something regional?"
"Not really. What my agent pitched was more of an 'on the streets of New York' sort of thing, but when we sat down to talk in the production meeting, the producer already had Austin in mind. He likes the eclectic culture of the city. When l mentioned the launch of the inn, he really got excited. He liked the duality of the rural and urban settings.
"So, instead of a cooking show, mine is going to be a regional travel slash food show with one cooking segment each episode. Since Texas is a huge state with many cultures and we sit close to some of the best cooking in the South, the producer wants my show based out of Serendipity Inn but with segments filmed all over Texas, Louisiana, Oklahoma, even Arkansas.”
Brent looked shell-shocked. "You're kidding."
Rayne grinned. "Nope. I'm staying here. Of course, I'll have to travel some. But we'll film most segments from the inn with a few in the restaurant in Austin. The show will be called Southern Kitchen and we'll start filming in the fall. So Henry can go to school here. Play for your baseball team. I will-"
She didn't get to finish. Mostly because Brent's mouth had covered hers. His mouth was hungry, driving her back. She stuck out one elbow to catch herself and wrapped her other arm around Brent's neck. He tasted so good. He tasted like coming home. For real.
Brent ripped his mouth from hers and looked deep in her eyes."Why the hell did you wait so long to tell me?"
She contemplated his lips. They were wet and tempting. She wanted to kiss him again. So she did.
He tasted as good as he had the first time.
"Rayne," he murmured against her lips.
She broke the kiss, but stayed in his arms. "Maybe because there was a tornado. And Henry. And a dog. And your mother. And-"
"Okay, but you drew this out. Like torture," he whispered, kissing her jawline, not bothering to pull away from her, and she knew he had to be uncomfortable. An acorn poked her in the back.
She shook her head."What did you expect? For me to blurt out everything?"
"Yeah," he said, falling so he lay flat on his back, tugging her atop him. He cupped her face and pulled her lips to his. Tenderly, he kissed her. Again. And again.
A flare of desire burst inside her as he loved her.
She slid her hand to the raspiness of his jaw, enjoying the difference in their skin.
"Whadda you guys doing? Kissing?" Henry's voice crashed into them.
Brent lazily tore his mouth from hers and looked at her son. She turned her head, too. Henry stood beneath the porch wearing a disgusted look.
"Don't you know you're not supposed to interrupt a guy kissing a pretty woman?" Brent said, sitting up and pulling Rayne with him. ''It's guy code."
Henry blinked at Brent. "It is?"
Rayne shook her head and lifted her gaze to the heavens. Or what would be the heavens if they weren't blocked by the many trees between the carriage house and the back of the Hamiltons' house.
"Are you guys getting married or something?" Henry asked.
Brent shrugged."Maybe. How would you feel about that?"
Rayne felt her heart contract again. For the umpteenth time in the past few months. ''Henry, would you mind if Brent were my... boyfriend?"
Henry smiled. ''I told you, Mom. Remember? I told you to marry Brent He'd be a good addition. Remember?"
"How could I forget?" Rayne said.
Brent stood and tugged her to her feet, not missing the opportunity to brush her forehead with a kiss."So you've been talking it over already."
Henry nodded his whole body. "Yeah. I already decided you'd be a good guy for my mom. And you're pretty good at throwing ball. And you write good books. And-"
Rayne didn't hear all the other good attributes her son rattled off about Brent. She knew all she needed to know. Brent Hamilton loved her. And she loved him. They may not have a happily ever after, but they'd get as damned close as they could.
"I love you," she said, looking up at the man she loved.
"And I love you. I always have."
They linked hands and walked down the steps to the prattling eight-year-old who was on attribute number twelve which included something about knowing how to tie shoelaces so they didn't come undone.
Rayne felt a sense of absolute rightness flood her as she took Henry's hand. They stepped together toward the Hamiltons' house. Toward, hopefully, Mrs. Donna's homemade gingersnaps. Toward a new future together.
"So, since you're going to be my new dad, can I have a dog?"
Rayne looked at Brent. Who looked at her. They both looked at Henry and said, "No!"
"Aw, man," Henry said, scooping up the dog rope toy and waving it in the air."Guess I'll take those Pop Tarts then."
Apple ran circles around them, barking at Henry. Brent curled his arms around Rayne's shoulders, and Rayne looked up at him."You don't know what you've gotten yourself into."
He smiled. "Oh, I know. But it's exactly where I want to be."
"Better late than never, I guess,” she joked.
“Better late than never.”