At Wild Rose Cottage (19 page)

“I'm sure your neighbor appreciated it,” he said.

“She's a shut-in, which means there's absolutely nothing she can do for me, so you'll have to look for another ulterior motive.”

“Give me a break,” he muttered.

Emily confused him. When it came to most people outside his family he could figure out where they were coming from; you either gave or denied them what they wanted and that was it. But Emily defied his attempt to understand her. He'd always looked for underlying motives in women, either conscious or subconscious. It was the unwitting pleas for rescue that he tried hardest to avoid. That kind of woman could suck you under.

He didn't want to get lost with Emily. Something about her seemed dangerous. She reminded him of the time he'd been on the highway, watching a tornado, not knowing in which direction he'd find safety.

* * *

E
MILY
OPENED
THE
freezer and took out the ice cream she'd bought to celebrate the kitchen being finished.

“How about a sundae?” she asked.

“Sounds good. I hope you have peanuts to put on top.”

“Um...sure.” She'd almost said,
You're a man after my own heart.
She wouldn't have meant anything by it, only that she also liked peanuts on her sundaes, but he might have misunderstood.

She served two bowls of vanilla and set out a selection of toppings.

“Sorry, no fruit sauce,” she apologized.

“I prefer it this way.”

Emily noticed that Trent selected caramel, chocolate and peanuts, her favorite combo, but she didn't say anything about that, either.

“Mmm,” she murmured as the chocolate rolled over her tongue. “I once read that the taste of chocolate makes you feel the same way falling in love does.” She laughed. “Sorry, that's the sort of thing women say at a chick-fest.”

His smile seemed strained. “No problem. Do you agree about chocolate?”

“I'm not sure. It isn't how I felt with Dennis, so either the researchers are wrong or I wasn't really in love. And in the end, maybe it was my fault he couldn't commit. Would a guy feel different with a woman who truly loved him?”

“It wasn't your fault that he's a jerk,” Trent surprised her by saying. “But tell me more about growing up in LA.”

Emily ate a bite of ice cream. She didn't like talking about her childhood, and considering how terrible things had been for Trent, her issues seemed trivial.

“We traveled a lot,” she said slowly. “I loved it more than Nicole did, which is ironic because she's still on the road all the time.”

She debated for a moment, then retrieved a photo of her sister on her phone. Nicole gazed seductively at the camera, wearing a sarong and a hibiscus blossom in her hair. Once Trent saw it, he'd understand why the contrast between them had struck people so strongly.

“This is my sister at a photo shoot in Bali,” she explained, handing him the phone.

He gazed at the picture with no reaction. It was a first; men generally came close to drooling.

Trent handed the phone back. “She's pretty, but only by a single standard of evaluation.”

“By every standard,” Emily protested, instantly springing to Nicole's defense—her sister wasn't just beautiful, she was a darned nice person.

“I disagree.”

Emily waited for the usual consoling comment—
beauty isn't all on the outside
—but he didn't say it.

“What did you do when she was modeling?” Trent asked.

“Mostly I did my own thing. I loved to explore when we were traveling, at least when I got old enough to go on my own. For a while I knew the Louvre inside and out—the Mona Lisa became one of my closest friends.”

“You may have gotten the best of the deal.”

“True.” In a way, she even felt sorry for her sister. “Nicole was stuck with fittings and makeup sessions, along with practicing poses and getting critiqued on walking the right way, while I got to see all sorts of amazing things.”

“What about school during all that travel?”

“We had a tutor.” She cocked her head at his oddly quizzical expression. “What is it?”

“I was wondering how you turned out so flaky and avant-garde.”

Sourness twisted her stomach. She knew people considered her flaky, but Trent didn't make it sound like an acceptable eccentricity. At least the men she'd known in the past had enjoyed her personality. Depression nibbled and she wondered if that was why Trent hadn't talked about beauty being on the inside...because he didn't especially like her inside.

“That's enough about me,” Emily declared firmly, resisting the temptation of self-pity. “We got interrupted this morning when you were telling me about Wild Rose Cottage.”

Trent turned to stare out the window. His face had the hard, stern expression he often wore and she wondered how much he'd been hiding over the years. The problem with barricades to keep something from escaping was that no one could get in, either.

“Haven't you been lonely,” she asked, “keeping it shut inside yourself?”

* * *

T
RENT
FLINCHED
AT
Emily's question; it hit too close to the bone. He
had
been lonely. With a loving family surrounding him, he'd still been alone.

“It wasn't so bad,” he asserted. “I wanted people to stay away.”

“I kind of understand. You needed to keep a secret and it's easier to keep secrets if no one gets close. But why didn't you want them to know?”

“How could I tell Uncle Parker that his sister's husband knocked her around?” Trent growled. “Would you want to know?”

“Yes, so I could talk her into leaving him.”

“And if she was gone and you couldn't help her any longer, wouldn't you rather think she'd been happy?”

Emily was silent for a long minute, her brow creased in thought. “I wouldn't want my nephew dealing with it alone,” she said slowly, “but I can't guess how your uncle would feel.”

“I don't know, either. That's why I didn't tell anybody.”

“Wasn't it more than that? Your mother was determined to keep the abuse a secret. Revealing the truth probably would have seemed like a betrayal, even after she was gone. The same with calling anyone else Mom.”

Trent thought about the confused mix of anger and love and protectiveness he'd felt for Fiona Hawkins. Emily was right—the habit had been so engrained by the time of the accident, it would have broken him to have revealed the things his mother had wanted kept private.

“When did you hide your father's handgun?” Emily asked.

“He tried to keep it a secret, but I knew he had one,” Trent said slowly. “The morning of my tenth birthday he was in one of his jovial moods, claiming we'd go out that evening to celebrate. I was sporting the black eye and split lip he'd given me and didn't care about doing anything, but Mom was thrilled that he was being so nice.”

“The honeymoon,” Emily murmured.

“Honeymoon?”

She looked embarrassed. “I've heard abusers may be affectionate for a while after doing something dreadful. And how it builds false hope.”

“Well, the honeymoon never lasted long with Gavin. He returned late that afternoon and slugged Mom when she asked where we were going for dinner. It terrified Alaina, but he just laughed and sprayed beer all over her. When she started screaming, he said to keep her quiet or else.”

Trent stared through the windows into the backyard, thinking how it had looked that long-ago day.

“Then what happened?” Emily prompted.

“Gavin stumbled out to the yard and drank a six-pack before leaving again. I was picking up the empty beer cans when I found the gun. He must have been too drunk to realize it had fallen out of his pocket.”

Emily nodded, her eyes wide and attentive.

“Seeing it scared the hell out of me. Sooner or later he'd forget my threat and start hitting Alaina as well, and if he did...?” Trent shuddered. “I could actually see me pointing that gun at my own father and pulling the trigger.”

“So you picked a hiding place where nobody could get to it, even you.”

“I didn't know what else to do. I wrapped the thing in plastic and stuck it in the wall I was patching.”

“Why the plastic?”

Trent released a harsh breath. “By then I was willing to believe the worst about him. I wanted to be able to threaten Gavin with evidence that might send him to jail. After the accident I heard about a string of armed robberies in the area and wondered if he was responsible. The only thing that got me through those days was thinking that no one else had to know what he'd really been like. The secret was finally safe.”

“Safe most of all from Alaina,” she guessed softly.

Pain went through Trent, even after all these years. “My sister was so small and giggly and happy. I didn't want her growing up with everyone knowing she was the daughter of a violent drunk who may have also been a criminal.”

* * *

E
MILY
'
S
HEART
ACHED
. Trent had learned all too well how to be a tough little boy, and he'd become a man who was just as tough and strong.

“The McGregors are a respected family in town,” he said, almost in a monotone, as if reciting a litany.

Maybe that's what he was doing, listing everything he'd told himself over the years, reminders that no one else had to get hurt as long as he kept his mouth shut.

“People would have whispered when Uncle Parker went to sell cattle at the stockyard,” Trent continued. “Aunt Sarah would have faced gossip at church and the supermarket. They didn't deserve that. As for my cousins...they already had to share their parents with Alaina and me. Who knows what kind of mean stuff the other kids in school might have done or said to them?”

“So you kept quiet to protect everyone.” Emily understood, but she didn't think it was right that a child should have to protect the adults in his life.

He snorted. “Don't make it sound heroic. I was protecting myself, too. Besides, I relished every minute of hating Gavin on my own. For one thing, nobody was telling me to forgive him, something I had no intention of doing.”

Emily chuckled at the rueful glint in Trent's eyes.

“How...human,” she managed to say.

She cocked her head, thinking about the comments people had made when she was checking Big Sky's references. It had come up more than once, how much Trent looked like his father.

“I'll bet you didn't appreciate people saying you resembled your father,” she took a chance on saying.

Seeing the muscle ticking in his jaw, she'd clearly hit a sore spot.

“Yeah,” he admitted, “and think how they would have reacted if they'd learned I hated Gavin Hawkins, and even my mother in a way because she'd stayed with him.”

“Maybe you should tell them now,” Emily suggested tentatively.

“It's in the past,” he returned in a tone that didn't brook argument. “Dead and buried with my parents.”

Emily wasn't sure about that.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

W
HEN
T
RENT
USED
that tone of voice, his employees knew better than to continue the debate.

Emily just stuck up her chin.

“That's garbage,” she shot back. “It isn't dead and buried. Well, it might be buried, but it isn't dead. And since you've buried something that stinks so much, it's in danger of turning your brain into a massive abscess. You and Alaina are adults now. It's time to tell the truth.”

Trent stared at her belligerent face. Emily's colorful imagery was too apt. It
had
been like an infection, abscessing in various ways, pushing him further and further from his family and friends. But at least that had been a place where he had some sense of control.

“I'll think about it,” he said.

She cocked her head and he knew the inquisition wasn't over. All at once he thought of the time when he'd had an abscess in his leg when he was fourteen. Aunt Sarah had rushed him to the clinic and he'd put on a stoic face, not wanting them to touch the painful swelling, at the same moment hoping it would feel better after the procedure. If this was the same as that, maybe he should consider it.

Emily leaned forward. “I bet you were also afraid that if Schuyler found out about your father they'd wonder if you'd turn out the same way,”

How could she so accurately locate his wounded spots? Once again he felt the sucking energy of the tornado.

“I suppose,” he admitted grudgingly. “People always wanted me to be like Gavin—charming and sociable and fun—but I knew what a louse he was, so I never wanted anyone to say I was charming like him.”

“Don't worry,” Emily advised drily, “there isn't much danger of that.”

Trent chuckled, feeling as if the joke had slapped him back into normality.
Almost
.

Lord, here he was, sitting in a kitchen with a woman who'd turned him upside down and forced him to look at his life in a new way. But he was also being whipped by two emotional storms, torn between the ancient one from childhood and the force of nature that was Emily. There
had
to be a way of putting her into a more manageable category in his life.

Would another night with her help or hinder that attempt? And could he resist either way?

“Where is the gun now?” she asked.

“In my private safe. I'd planned to dispose of it, but couldn't. I don't know, maybe it
is
time for the truth to come out.” The admission gave him a curious sense of release. “Besides, if the weapon was used in the robberies, the authorities would probably appreciate closing the book on those crimes, even if the statute of limitations has passed.”

* * *

E
MILY
SAW
THE
resolution spreading over Trent's face as he made his decision. She hoped it would give him some of the peace he deserved.

“What about your family?” she asked. “You can't speak to the police and leave them out of the loop.”

“I'll think about it.”

“That's good,” she managed to answer through the tightness in her throat. She stirred her spoon in the pool of chocolate syrup left in her bowl, then went to the freezer to get more ice cream. She served herself another scoop and put a couple more in Trent's bowl. Something about Trent's expression had subtly shifted and it was making her heart pound harder.

They finished their dessert in silence, then stood. Trent tugged her close.

It was heavenly to have his arms around her.
We fit together,
whispered a traitorous voice in her head, a voice she crossly told to shut up. After a few more minutes, she felt his lips moving at the side of her neck. Delicious shivers danced down her spine and rushed into her abdomen.

“Why don't we take up where we left off this morning?” he asked in low, rough tone.

“I thought that's what we've been doing, discussing what needs to be...discussed.”

“Actually, I was thinking about what happened
before
we started talking.” His hand moved down, into the small of her back.

One more night, she thought. It wasn't too much to ask for someone who'd been stupid enough to fall for a man way out of her league. She still had questions, but she'd rather spend the night making love with Trent than talking.

His lips moved to her mouth and she realized he'd somehow disposed of her blouse. “I like these lacey bits you wear,” he murmured. “But I like you even better without them.” The bra quickly followed the blouse to the floor.

“It's too bad the hot tub hasn't been installed,” Emily gasped as he played with her breasts, teasing them to plump attention.

“We'll make do,” he breathed, lifting her easily into his arms and striding toward the bedroom.

* * *

M
IKE
SAT
ACROSS
from Alaina at a table outside the Roundup Café. She'd agreed to meet him for a cup of coffee, refusing to treat it as a date.

After stirring cream into her cup, she leaned forward. “I don't enjoy games and I'm tired of wasting time. I'll go to dinner with you, but it can't be a one-time thing. I want to know the real Mike Carlisle, and I want you to know who I am, not just who you think I am. The only way to do that is to spend serious time together.”

He blinked. “Were you this direct with the guys you dated in New York?”

“No. I was never that interested in anyone there.”

Energy pricked at him... Did that mean she was interested in one Mike Carlisle?

“It still seems strange that you'd leave a good career and come back to Schuyler. I've wondered if it was a bad relationship you wanted to leave behind.” It wasn't the smartest thing he could have said. New York seemed to be a sore point with Alaina, and now her eyes flashed once more.

“You don't get it. Over and over you just don't get it. I wouldn't let a guy run me off from a job I enjoyed and which, I might add, I continue to do as a consultant. The only thing I gave up was location.”

Wow, he'd walked into that one.

“Okay.” Mike held up his hands in surrender. “Then why did you come back to Schuyler?”

“Because you did. I was hoping you'd finally pay attention to something right in front of you.”

Astounded, he stared at her. Alaina had left New York because of him?

“How... I mean, you wanted...?” he stuttered into silence.

“I want you to notice me. I'm the dumb player who goes for the long ball, same as you always did. And by the way, I know exactly what happened at your last game. You were showing off, like usual, this time for a slinky redhead. It was stupid and I was so mad at you I could have spit, but I loved you anyway.”

“You...loved me?”

“Yeah.”

It suddenly hit him that she hadn't said how she felt
now
. “Loved,” he repeated, “as in past tense?”

“I don't know. I'm trying to figure out what's real and if you're the person I always thought you were. I never cared about Lightning Carlisle. Now I'm wondering if anyone else ever existed, except in my imagination.”

The enormity of what she was saying slammed through Mike's head. Apart from his parents, Alaina and her brother might be the only people who hadn't cared if he was a hero. Yet he'd never paid much attention to Alaina, first because she was too young, later because he was too involved with being a hotshot baseball star, and still later because he was bitter over the loss of his career.

“By the way,” Alaina continued heatedly, “you had a decade in the majors. That's more than most guys. It's too bad it ended earlier than you wanted, but deal with it. You ought to feel lucky, not bitter.”

A rueful smile tugged at his mouth. With the possible exception of her brother, Alaina was the only person he knew with the guts to tell him the truth.

“Okay,” he said finally, “where do we go now?”

“First I need to know if you're interested in getting to know me the way people are supposed to know each other. If you're not, that's the end of it. I'll leave you alone to stew in your own juices, though I should point out that those juices shouldn't be too many six-packs behind closed doors.”

The skin around Alaina's lips was white and he recalled her uncomfortable reaction when he'd answered the door with a beer in hand, and another time when she'd seen a carton of ale on his kitchen counter. In actuality he didn't drink that often, despite appearances.

“I agree completely,” he said quietly.

She looked suspicious. “About what part?”

“All of it. I've been blind and stupid. You're amazing and I'm definitely interested.”

Alaina regarded him suspiciously. “Second,” she said, “I have no intention of becoming your girlfriend simply because you feel lucky to get me under the circumstances.”

He blinked, confused, and she made an impatient gesture.

“Put it this way, Mike. I'm not a consolation prize for what happened to you. I don't want that, any more than Emily wanted to be someone you settled for because you figured you couldn't do better.”

Hell. Mike winced. If that was what Emily had thought, it wasn't any wonder she'd dodged a second date with him.

“It isn't how I saw her... I mean, she seems like someone who wouldn't mind being a teacher's wife...” He stopped, aware that he was making things worse. “What I especially liked is that she's new in town and doesn't remember me as the town baseball star.”

Alaina narrowed her eyes. “Gee, what woman wouldn't be honored to be pursued for such a stellar reason? Emily is my friend and I resent your treating her badly.”

“Give me a break. Lots of people get interested in each other because of something small or simple. It wasn't that she isn't attractive.”

Alaina's lips pressed together, then she nodded. “Okay.”

Mike frowned. “Emily is nice and I never meant to hurt her.”

“Don't get bigheaded about that, either. Her ego is slightly bruised, but she was hardly in love with you.”

“I'll still apologize.”

“Don't you dare,” Alaina snapped. “With your foot-in-mouth disease, you'll just make it worse.”

He was about to protest when he decided to follow the old saw about discretion being the better part of valor. Anyhow, maybe he did have some shortcomings in the verbal department. He'd never intended to give Emily the wrong impression.

“Okay,” he agreed. “As for the rest, I guess I don't know very much, except that I've been attracted to you for a long time. The main reason I didn't do something about it when you moved back was because dating a buddy's sister can get sticky.”

“I'll always be Trent's sister,” Alaina reminded him crisply.

“Now I don't care if it gets sticky. It's Trent's problem, not mine.”

“Good. I want to clarify another issue. I'm interested in the whole enchilada—marriage, family and lifetime commitment—with someone, not necessarily you. Are you opposed to marriage and kids, or willing to consider it with the right person?”

“I'm willing to consider it,” he answered firmly. The conversation reminded him of a contract negotiation.

“Then I'll put this in terms you understand...you'll have a lengthy spring training and tryout period while we get to know each other and decide if we should play on the same team. No shortcuts. I'm not interested in someone who can't last more than a couple of innings, and I don't want someone who can't see that new dreams are able to take the place of old ones.”

“That's... Sure.”

“I mean it,” Alaina insisted. “Teaching isn't a dismal fallback position. Kids are the future. When I have children, I want them to have teachers who are excited about helping them, and that's what your students deserve right now.”

Mike nodded, feeling as if he'd been jerked awake after a long, stuporous slumber. Alaina Hawkins was the kind of woman he should have been looking for all along. And if he had recognized that, he wouldn't have been showboating for every pretty face he'd noticed in the stands.

And while he could do without having a bum knee, the future could be pretty great as a high school teacher in Schuyler, Montana.

* * *

E
ARLY
IN
THE
morning Emily slipped out of bed and went into the kitchen. They'd gotten plenty of exercise over the past ten hours and she was hungry.

“Any coffee?” Trent asked, walking in sleepily.

“It's almost done brewing. Help yourself to toast and cheese if you want it. I'm not in a breakfast-cooking mode yet, but I have eggs if you want to give it a go.”

“I don't cook,” he admitted, popping two slices of the whole-grain bread into the toaster. “The closest I can manage are those microwave breakfasts from the grocery freezer case.”

“Whatever works.”

Emily was determined to be sophisticated and not get stupid about Trent spending a second night with her. It had been one of those unique events, where emotions and events came together and the result didn't mean anything; she wasn't even sure she wanted it to have a meaning.

Was she in love with the guy? That would be a disaster. She had neither great beauty nor, apparently, a personality he especially appreciated.

And even though she understood the tragedy behind his hard face and admired the way he protected his family, she wasn't necessarily crazy about
his
personality. Probably it was simply a case of full-blown lust.

Trent had gotten dressed, which was good because the sight of his still-tousled dark hair left her wobbly with renewed cravings.

“Uh... I guess it's obvious why you wanted Wild Rose Cottage,” she said. “To get the gun.”