Bull By The Horns [Wayback Texas] Page 8

  His confession out by the quarry earlier had touched her heart. Like her, he'd been fifteen and handed a tremendous responsibility. How could she have judged him for not being responsible when he'd supported his family for five years? No wonder he was drawn to the rambling life, where he could make his own choices, make his own way, not depend on anyone else. Not have anyone else depend on him.

  He was living her dream. But what did that mean to her?

  He snuffled in his sleep and turned toward her, looping his arm over her waist, opening one eye sleepily when his arm encountered fabric.

  "Why you wearin’ my shirt?” he asked groggily.

  "I got up to go to the bathroom.” She nestled closer. “And the air conditioner's too cold."

  He pulled her closer, so her hands were flat against his bare chest. “That's when you come back to bed and put your cold feet on my legs and wake me up.” He nuzzled his mouth under her jaw. Lavender shivered. “I'll be glad to warm you up."

  "Do your best,” she teased, and this time, he ripped the shirt from her body.

  * * * *

  They surfaced on Thursday night to go to the Blue Bug. Though they'd spent the past two days only in each other's company, in each other's arms, Lavender didn't feel particularly sociable. The place was hopping, though, with the rodeo tomorrow night, and Lavender spotted the other teachers sitting at a table by the dance floor, waving.

  She headed toward them but Taylor tugged her hand, tucking her back against his side before pressing a kiss to her temple.

  "Where are you going?"

  "To say hi.” She inclined her head toward the three women.

  "Just for a minute. Don't want to share you tonight."

  She turned to slide her hand around his waist, well aware of the attention on them, probably wondering what old maid Lavender was doing with hottie Taylor Craig. Well, if they looked closely, they could reason it out.

  She pushed the thoughts aside. She wouldn't ruin her mood by speculating. “We're in the wrong place for that."

  "Go say hi to your friends. I'll go get us something to drink.” He kissed her forehead and slid free of her embrace.

  She watched after him for a minute—he looked good coming and going—before she headed to the table by the dance floor.

  "Lavender, you look amazing,” Melissa greeted her. “Love agrees with you."

  Lavender's face heated even as Jerri leaned back to inspect her through narrowed eyes.

  "You mean sex agrees with her. Those younger guys are certainly attentive, aren't they?"

  Yeowch. Now, there was no call for that. Lavender knew Taylor wasn't in love with her, didn't pretend otherwise. But she was determined to maintain her good mood. “I don't know. I don't have much in the way of comparison."

  "But now you will.” Melissa's gaze followed Taylor wistfully. “Is it true he was in Crushin'? I had the biggest thing for Ronny from that group. Do you think Taylor could introduce me?"

  "He doesn't have much to do with them anymore.” Lavender wanted to end this conversation before he got back. “It was another life."

  Jerri widened her eyes mockingly. “So you do have actual conversations?"

  Okay, what was her problem? Jealousy, maybe. Jerri was younger, slimmer, prettier than Lavender. Maybe she thought she deserved Taylor. Lavender took a deep breath and squared her shoulders to battle back the anger. Why couldn't the other woman allow her this one happiness?

  "Well, you know, there's only so much, ‘Yes! Oh, yes, Taylor, right there!’ and ‘Rip my clothes off with your teeth!’ before, you know, you have to find something else to talk about."

  She pivoted and came face to face with Taylor, a smile quirking the corner of his mouth, two bottles of beer dangling from his fingers. Her face flamed. How much had he heard? Had he seen her lose her temper? Okay, the lift of his eyebrows told her he'd heard enough, and damn it, he was amused. He stepped closer, offered a bottle to her, then took her hand to lead her to the dance floor.

  Her earlier clumsiness returned as he shifted her into his arms and she couldn't meet his gaze. But the problem was, she couldn't look at anyone else. Who had heard her snap?

  Taylor dipped his head so his lips were next to her ear. “I think it was more like, ‘Don't stop, Taylor, please God, don't stop'."

  Relief at his teasing swept away some of the embarrassment. She eased back a bit to shove playfully at a shoulder. “I just made a complete idiot of myself."

  "I like a woman who can stand up for herself.” He looped a lock of her hair over her ear, let his fingertips linger on her cheek. “I was getting ready to jump in."

  "That would have made it worse.” If that was possible.

  "Nah, you did good. Turned it back on yourself, but made it funny. It'll be a joke for a bit, and then it will blow over."

  She didn't want to think about the gossip that would result. Even if no one heard, well, Jerri had a big mouth. “Don't."

  He grinned, all white teeth. “Don't stop, you mean?"

  "Taylor."

  He rested his hand holding the beer on the small of her back as they moved across the floor. “I want to hear more about ripping your clothes off with my teeth. I wonder if that's possible. Let's go find out."

  * * * *

  "Come back to Alpine with me."

  Lavender whipped her head up so fast she almost cracked him in the jaw as they snuggled in bed. She couldn't get enough of touching him, and lying in bed with her legs linked around his was one of her favorite new things. She loved the rasp of his hair against her sensitive skin and had been concentrating on that when he dropped his bombshell.

  When she met his gaze, he smiled and threaded his fingers through her hair. “I want you to see where I live. And I'm not ready to be away from you yet."

  "Taylor, even if I wanted to, my grandmother—"

  "Eleanor's been doing a fine job of taking care of her these past few days. You said so yourself."

  She bit her lower lip and looked down. He tucked his finger under her chin and lifted her face.

  "Why do you feel like you have to carry the weight of the world?"

  "You know why. If anyone knows, you do. If I don't, who will?"

  "She's stayed longer than you thought she would."

  She had. Lavender wasn't sure why, but her mother's visit this time had surpassed the length of any since Lavender was fifteen. Still, with her luck, Eleanor would leave while Lavender was in Alpine.

  "I want you to see my house.” He stroked his thumb over her cheek. “It would mean a lot to me. I even planted some roses."

  Everything in her melted, and she nestled closer. “You did?"

  "Reminded me of you,” he murmured, and kissed her again.

  The knock came at the door just as Lavender was dozing off, Taylor's arm across her waist, his body curved around hers. She jolted at the sound and woke him.

  "What?” he asked, rolling onto his back and rubbing his eyes.

  "Someone's at the door."

  "What time is it?"

  She glanced at the clock. “Not midnight yet."

  Her words were almost drowned by another knock, stronger this time, accompanied by, “Lavender Prouty! Are you in there?"

  A man's voice. Fear took over as Lavender twisted to look at Taylor. “Something might have happened to Gertrude or my mother."

  "Who is it?” he asked her, rolling out of bed and grabbing his jeans.

  "I don't know.” She reached over the edge of the bed for his shirt, slipped it on and snapped it as he approached the door and peered out through the peephole.

  He looked back at her. “It's Mr. Hendrickson from the front desk. You okay?"

  She stood and tugged the tail of his shirt down, then folded her arms and nodded. Taylor opened the door.

  "Mr. Hendrickson. How can I help you this evening?"

  Before the words were out of his mouth, cameras flashed out of nowhere. He ducked his head, pushing Lavender behind him as the question
s rolled through the night.

  "Taylor, where have you been the past six years? Who is this woman?"

  "Taylor, how did you end up in Texas? In a rodeo?"

  "Taylor, are you going to join the Crushin’ reunion tour?"

  Mr. Hendrickson was shoved aside by the reporters who lunged toward Taylor. Out of practice after six years, he didn't get the door shut before they got a few more pictures but no answers. With his shoulder against the closed door, he turned his accusing gaze to Lavender.

  "Where did they come from?"

  She widened her eyes. “You think I called them?"

  He sagged against the door, glanced toward the window and blew a breath out through his nose. “No. No, I know you didn't. Jesus, though. Where did they come from? And why?"

  Another pounding at the door made him jolt, then throw the privacy lock.

  But it was Mrs. Hendrickson's voice that came through the door. “Lavender, honey, you have a phone call in the office. It's Mrs. Aguilar. She said come quick. Your mama's gone again."

  * * * *

  Lavender hurried up the walk to the house, tucking Taylor's shirt into her jeans. Behind her, Taylor sat in his truck, waiting for her to get inside, but she couldn't worry about that now. She pushed open the door to see Mrs. Aguilar pacing in the hallway, squeezing her hands together. Her face sagged in relief and she hurried forward when she saw Lavender.

  "Thank goodness. Your grandmother is beside herself.” She flicked a questioning gaze to the plaid western shirt, then back to Lavender's face.

  "Where is she?” Lavender asked.

  "In her room."

  "Thank you, Mrs. Aguilar. I appreciate you being here.” But her focus was already on her grandmother and what she would say to reassure her.

  Was there anything to say? What would she want to hear? Certainly nothing like the I-told-you-so that was on the tip of her tongue.

  She mounted the stairs and tapped on Gertrude's bedroom door. A grumble was her response.

  Lavender pushed open the door to see Gertrude swiping at her eyes, though when she glared at Lavender, her eyes were watery and pained.

  Lavender's heart tightened. She couldn't think of anything to say except, “She's gone?"

  Instead of more tears, Gertrude glared. “Thanks to you."

  Lavender hesitated. “What do you mean?"

  "She came here in good faith. She wanted to make amends. But you poked at her and poked at her and poked at her and she's gone. You are an ungrateful child."

  Lavender's mouth dropped open and all her good intentions fled. “Ungrateful? How long has it been since we've seen her? Heard from her? And I'm ungrateful?"

  "People make mistakes. She was trying to make up to us."

  "How? How was she making up?” God, she didn't want to have this fight with her grandmother, who was so hurt. She wanted to hug and comfort her, but Gertrude had all her quills out, wanting to strike out, and her only other target had fled.

  Gertrude narrowed her eyes. “You haven't even been around the past few days. Your mother has helped me, taken me to the grocery store, taken me to get my hair done, taken me to the bank—"

  Lavender's heart sank. “Where you gave her how much money?"

  "She said she needed new tires.” Gertrude lowered her head to her hands as she realized what she'd done.

  Lavender dropped to her knees in front of her grandmother and wrapped her arms around the older woman, blocking her own pain.

  * * * *

  Taylor had forgotten how hard it was to get anything done with the media around. Back when he'd been in the band, he'd had handlers to run interference. Now he had to rely on his own wits, dulled by time. The damned reunion tour made it worse. Otherwise, who would care? But because he'd been the hold-out from the tour, reporters wanted to know why.

  Taylor was in no mood to give them answers.

  He'd lost his temper only once, when they'd spooked Angelina at the rodeo grounds. Worse, the presence of the photographers and reporters—it had started at four, then six, once word got back to Los Angeles—had drawn the attention of the townspeople and the disdain of the other cowboys. He hadn't formed enough bonds to depend on their support, especially once they discovered why he was suddenly so popular. The names they called him were ones he hadn't been called in a long time.

  He'd escaped with the help of Alex, his hazer, and made it to Angelina's stall before the rodeo started. He cinched Angelina's saddle and looked up when Lavender popped her head over the top of the stall. His surprise morphed quickly to joy. He had missed her last night after she left. He hadn't thought it possible, but God, he missed the smell of her, the feel of her.

  A moment passed before he recognized that her eyes were shadowed and the smile she gave him was a ghost of her normal one. His gut twisted to see her in pain. He slid a hand along Angelina's neck and approached, offering her what he hoped was an understanding smile of his own.

  "You okay?” He reached to touch her, but she turned her head, and his stomach dropped. “That bad?” His voice sounded strained to his own ears.

  "I won't be watching you ride today."

  "I figured. I wish you could, but I can manage without the good luck you bring.” He tugged open the stall door and caught her wrist, wanting to bring her to him, wanting to make her look at him. She hadn't since she approached, and that alone set off all sorts of warning bells. “I'll come by after."

  "No.” She looked at him then, pain clouding her eyes. “No, don't."

  "Gertrude is still pissed at me?"

  "At everyone at the moment.” She sucked in a deep breath and her nose wrinkled just a bit at the smell, which was not at all rose-like. “I don't—I think you should just go on to Alpine after the rodeo."

  "Okay,” he said slowly. “I'll come back and get you in, what do you think, a week?” Because, damn it, she wasn't saying what he thought she was saying. Not Lavender, the woman he wanted by his side, not when he needed her.

  Her nose pinched as she drew in a deep breath and looked away again. “No. I'm not going to be able to go to Alpine with you."

  "Sure, until you can find someone to stay with Gertrude. Hell, bring her with you. I don't care. It's a big house."

  Tears slid down her cheeks and she broke her wrist out of his grip. “I can't do this anymore. Don't you hear what I'm saying to you? It's been fun while it lasted, but it's over. I have to get back to my life, before it's too late. I'm sorry, Taylor."

  She didn't give him a chance to say anything, but turned and strode back through the barn. He had the presence of mind to snick the lock on Angelina's stall before he ran after her.

  "Lavender! Damn it, Lavender!"

  He grabbed her arm just before she left the barn. She turned to him, full-on crying, her nose red, her eyes flashing.

  "Lavender, what the hell?"

  "I can't do this,” she choked out and wrenched her arm free as flashes went off around them.

  Too late, damn it, he saw the reporters outside the barn, all focused on him.

  "I'm sorry,” she murmured, and slipped through the reporters, who closed behind her, blocking his path. When he pushed through them, ignoring their shouted questions and the flashing lights, Lavender had disappeared.

  "Craig! You're up!"

  He wanted to ignore the summons, wanted to go after Lavender. But she was so wound up, would she listen to him? Would he even know what to say?

  Blowing out a breath, he jammed his hands on his hips, then pivoted to get Angelina. At least there was one female he understood.

  Or, maybe not. Just a few seconds later, Taylor lay in the dirt and stared at the fluttering colored flags on the roof of the Wayback Rodeo. Timing was everything and when he'd jumped from Angelina, he'd missed the calf and landed on his ass. Flashes went off and he closed his eyes. Great. Just great.

  * * * *

  Taylor slammed the shot glass down on the counter, upside down and empty. Only a couple of the reporters had followed
him to the Blue Bug, the others had hopefully given up. These two were likely taking note of the empty glasses and his increasingly drunken state, something he'd been cautious about back in the day. But he could care less what they thought of him now.

  If only he could reason out why Lavender had a change of heart. Well, he thought he knew why—her mother had taken off and she was tied here with her grandmother, but hell, the old lady was well enough to travel. For God's sake, Taylor wasn't trying to separate the two, abandon the old woman. He had gone to the house after the rodeo to reason with Lavender and she hadn't even answered the door.

  He'd never taken her for a coward.

  He scowled over his shoulder at the reporters. Maybe that's who had made her run, those scavengers who'd shown up at their motel room. Maybe they'd chased her away.

  He probed the floor with the toe of his boot, making sure it was still where he thought it was, and stood, body tense, ready for a fight.

  A soft hand slid across his shoulder and he turned to look into familiar green eyes.

  "Hey, cowboy, want to dance?” Roxie asked.

  Taylor swayed for a minute, trying to remember if he'd ever seen Roxie ask anyone to dance. He couldn't recall. And hell, he was in no shape to dance with her.

  She tucked an arm around his chest to turn him, then guided him to the floor.

  "Roxie,” he protested with a shake of his head that made his stomach roil.

  "Where's our girl?” Roxie asked once she propped him up on the dance floor and slipped into his arms.

  "Home with her granny.” Way to keep the bitterness out of his voice.

  Roxie sighed and swayed in the semblance of a dance. “I heard Eleanor took off again."

  That gave him a jolt. Was that why she'd bolted? No, it couldn't be. She'd talked about “when” Eleanor left, not “if.” “I don't think it was too much of a surprise to Lavender."