Can't Stop Loving You (28 page)

Lying in the dark beside him, listening to him grieve, another sound intruded. A quiet sound. A warning sound. The crumbling of the immunity she'd built up against him in self-protection.

Was there a booster shot—or an antibody? With a sinking heart, she accepted that she probably wouldn't avail herself of it even if it existed.

Sometime after the midnight hour, she fell into an exhausted, troubled sleep.

S
ince neither had thought to close the shades, early morning sunlight danced through the window and bounced over the bed. Brawley simply burrowed beneath his pillow.

Marvin, sensing his person was awake, crawled across Maggie and snuggled up on top of Brawley's pillow.

“What the hell are you doing?” he mumbled. “Bet I can sell you to some truck driver heading back East. You want to take a ride, Marvin?”

Maggie fought to contain her laughter. The dog, head resting on his front paws, wagged his tail. She wished she had a camera.

“Grouchy in the morning, huh?”

“Not always.”

“You know, you might want to rethink that Great Dane.”

“No kidding.” Brawley reached up and moved the dog down beside him. Then he tossed the pillow aside. Hair tousled, he rolled to his side to face her. “Morning, Maggie. You naked?”

She laughed out loud. “And he's back.”

“Yeah.” He ran a hand over his stubble-covered chin. “Thanks for staying with me.” A blush started dead-center of his chest and crept up his neck and face. “I, ah, would have been okay, but the company helped.”

No doubt embarrassed, he was throwing a wall between them.

“Look, Maggie, about last night.” He focused on a spot on the far wall, his eyes no longer meeting hers. “I don't know what to say. I apologize for everything that went down. And for dragging you away from New York and your work. I shouldn't have done that. Too many beers.”

“You know,” she said, “I could simply tell you it didn't matter. That it was okay. Or maybe I could say it was time to come home for a visit anyway. That I needed to check in on the shop. See how Ella's doing. But I'm not going to.”

Confusion raced over his face, and his eyes drifted to hers.

“You hadn't had a beer or anything else to drink when you called me, Brawley. You can't blame it on alcohol.”

A trace of anger darkened his eyes. “Fine. You're right. What do you want me to say?”

“I don't know. That's something you have to figure out for yourself.”

“Nothing more I
have
to say.”

Brawley threw back the covers. The grief would return, but for now it had been pushed aside by temper. Ordinarily that would have been okay. But right now? She didn't want to fight with him nor did she want him rehashing last night and beating himself up over what had happened. Time the conversation took a detour.

“Nice ass,” she purred.

His head turned. “Oh, yeah?”

“You could model with that butt.”

“Seen a lot of them, huh?”

“I've viewed my share, and yours ranks right up there at the top.”

He gave a half-laugh. “Maggie, I don't think if we both live to be a hundred, I'll ever figure you out.”

“That's the plan.” She started to get up, then stopped, her mouth dropping. “What's this?”

“Oh, shit!”

“Brawley?” She picked up the framed photo of herself at Pops's wedding.

“Don't suppose you could just forget you saw that?”

“No, I don't suppose I can.”

He scratched his bare chest, then reached for his jeans.

She read indecision in his expression and knew he was toying with possible answers. Trying to come up with something she'd buy. “I want the truth.”

“The truth?” Pants on and zipped, button still undone, he faced her squarely.

Staring at those rock-hard abs, that amazing six-pack, she almost forgot the question.

“I've been handing you the truth ever since I came back to Maverick Junction. You're not hearing it.”

“That's bull.”

“No, it's not,” he said quietly. “I hated the lack of anonymity here in a small town. Everybody knows your business before you do. You can't so much as sneeze without somebody hearing you and taking out an ad in the
Maverick Junction Daily
to spread the word. So I moved to Dallas after I finished school, in search of my dream and a little elbow room.”

He leaned down, rested his hands flat on the bed, and stuck his face close to hers. “Problem was my dream wasn't there. I had to come back here, home to Maverick Junction, to find it.”

“I understand that,” Maggie said. “And I've been living here in this small town wanting out to find my own dream. In the city.”

“Did you find it, Mags?”

“Yes.”

“You sure about that?”

Now it was her turn to look away. “Yes.”

“Not certain I believe you.”

She gasped. “Are you calling me a liar?”

“No, ma'am. I wouldn't do that.”

“But you're thinking it.”

“I'm thinking I'm hungry.”

She glared at him, then decided that, for now, she'd let him off the hook. But they'd get back to this discussion. “I'm hungry, too. But I cooked last night. I'm not cooking again this morning.”

“You thawed out a casserole.”

Her brow rose. “Your point?”

When he said nothing, she nodded. “That's what I thought. Put on a shirt and take me to Sally's.”

“I need to go to the funeral home.”

“I know.” Her heart ached for him, and she took his hand. “After we've eaten and you've flushed the rest of the alcohol out of your system with several cups of coffee, we'll go together.”

“You don't need to do that, Red.”

“You're right. I don't. But I'm going to—unless you really don't want me along.”

“I'd be grateful to have you there.”

“Then grab a shirt, cowboy, and make it quick.” She set the picture on the nightstand. That discussion would wait. Kneeling down, she unzipped her suitcase. “And you're paying.”

He laughed. “Honey, I've been paying for years.”

D
read filled Maggie. She hated funerals.

Two days had passed since she and Brawley sat in Harlan Buchanan's office and picked out Doc's coffin. Between them, they'd taken care of the myriad details of funeral planning, from writing the obituary to which song would be sung first. They'd decided to hold the service at Doc's church rather than at Buchanan's Funeral Home.

She hadn't seen or talked to Brawley since.

When she walked into the small chapel with her mom and dad, she spotted Brawley up front with his parents. His head was dipped as if in prayer.

Doc's death had shaken his world. The two had spent a lot of time together tending the animals they both loved. Doc Gibson had mentored Brawley, had given him a place to develop and grow. And now he was gone.

The world had lost a good man.

Brawley had lost a wonderful friend and teacher.

She couldn't bring herself to look at the casket. She and Doc had planned to have lunch together on her first trip back home. He wanted to hear all about her life in the city. Instead of Sally's, though, she'd come to the church to visit. To say good-bye.

Maggie understood funerals were a necessary part of the grieving process. They were for the living, the ones left behind, not the one who had moved on. Still, she hated them. With a passion.

Even with the air conditioner running full tilt, the interior of the chapel had already grown hot and close, the scent of flowers nearly overwhelming. She couldn't remember ever seeing so many baskets and arrangements. Apparently, the good people of Maverick Junction had paid no heed to the notice about sending donations to the National Humane Society instead of flowers.

Darn shame they didn't have a humane society here in town. They sure could use one. Both Marvin and Sophie's cat Lilybelle had been darned lucky to find a good home.

Someone bumped into her.

“I'm sorry.” She stepped off to the side. More and more people entered the sanctuary. Doc Gibson might not have had any blood relatives left, but a lot of people loved and respected him. He'd be missed.

“We'll sit back here,” her mom said.

“That's fine. I need to check on Brawley.”

Her mother nodded. “He's going to need a friend.”

Maggie walked down the aisle and slid into the bench behind him. Wordlessly, she laid a hand on his shoulder.

His hand came up to rest over hers, but he didn't turn. He sat stoically, facing front.

Annie and Cash came in, followed by Ty, Sophie, and the three boys. They sat on either side of Maggie. Each leaned forward and whispered to Brawley. He answered but never turned. Maggie's heart ached for him.

The small church filled to overflowing. Ranchers and their families from this and several adjoining counties had come to bid Doc Gibson a final farewell.

The preacher stepped to the altar, and the service began. Maggie listened to those who came forward to speak. So many, like her grandfather, were getting on in age.

Her eyes roved about the church. Who would be next? Which of these friends or family members wouldn't be here next time she flew home for a visit?

She cast a glance at Annie and Cash. They held hands. Annie already sported a tiny baby bump, and Maggie wouldn't be here to watch it grow. Jesse, Josh, and Jonah graduated from kindergarten in a couple weeks. She'd miss the ceremony, miss celebrating with them.

Her eyes misted, not only for Doc Gibson this time. She'd reached for the brass ring and actually caught the damned thing. Now what did she do with it?

Yesterday's funeral had taken on the feel of a bad dream. She'd practically sleepwalked through the day, afraid to fully accept that Doc was truly gone. She'd miss him.

Brawley would be lost without him.

So antsy she could have crawled out of her skin, Maggie found herself torn between her dreams and new life in New York and her friends and family, her shop, her always and forever life here in Maverick Junction.

She might not know what she'd do tomorrow, but today? She'd spend it at her shop greeting customers and piddling around in her back room. It was something she needed to do every once in a while.

She could fly in once every month or two and spend a few days looking over the stock and ordering new. Going over the books. Modifying and adapting to changes. It would let her keep in touch with both her business and her family and friends.

Pops and Dottie were happy, but neither one was a spring chicken. She missed Pops horribly. Doc's passing reminded her how quickly a loved one could leave. Without warning or time to say good-bye.

She probably needed her grandfather far more than he needed her. Especially now he had a new bride. The thought made her smile. She still couldn't get over that.

And their family had expanded by two since they'd adopted Doc Gibson's dogs. With Marvin upstairs that made three canines in the house. Who'd have thought? Dottie, it seemed, had a knack for taking in strays—of both the two- and four-legged variety.

First on today's must-do list? A stop at Ollie's for an iced coffee. The month and a half she'd been gone had been enough for the summer heat to sink her claws into Texas. It was beautiful now and not supposed to climb higher than eighty today. By tomorrow, they could be at ninety and sweltering.

As she pulled in behind her shop, she rolled up her windows. Next month would make a year since Annie'd ridden her Harley into Maverick Junction. What a difference that year had made. For all of them. When Annie and Cash got married, Sophie had come for the wedding and, basically, stayed. She'd fallen in love with Ty and his three boys. Pops and Dottie had hooked up. No doubt about it. Cupid had been working overtime. Everybody in the county seemed to be seeing red hearts and flowers.

Not all the changes were in the romance department. Brawley had come back to town, and now they'd lost Doc Gibson. She'd moved to New York City and had her first runway show. Make that
successful
runway show!

And now, here she was back home. Temporarily. She'd catch a flight back on Sunday. But for now, she'd enjoy the rest of her time here.

She grinned as she crossed the street to Ollie's.

The skirt of her pale green sundress fluttered around her legs as a breeze whipped up. She glanced up at the sky and saw clouds building to the west. Looked like they might get some rain a little later. They could use it.

She pushed through the café door, a small whirlwind whipping in behind her. Ollie looked up from the counter he wiped down.

“Hey! Look who's here. A big city, high-fashion designer in our humble diner.”

“Go on,” Maggie said.

Judy set down the platter of eggs and ham, refilled her customer's coffee cup, then hurried over to give Maggie a hug. “How long you here for?”

“This week.”

“Shame 'bout Doc, huh?”

“Yes.” Her heart hurt. “It is.”

“Good thing Brawley decided to come back when he did or the ranchers around here would be up…ah, a nasty creek.”

“They would indeed.”

Before she left Ollie's, she ordered a cranberry-orange muffin and a glass of sweet iced tea for Ella. If history meant anything, she hadn't taken time to eat breakfast.

Plastic cup and Styrofoam container in hand, Maggie stood outside Ollie's and studied her shop. It looked good. She'd missed it. Missed coming here every morning, missed her routine.

New York was exciting, she reminded herself. Full of energy and wonderful people. Something different every day. It held everything she'd ever wanted. It did. It really did, her mind insisted. Her damned heart, though, still dragged its feet, mumbling it wasn't so sure.

“Maggie!” Ella, a necklace in one hand, flew across the room to her the second the door opened. “Oh, it's so good to see you. I'm sorry about Doc.”

They hugged, and Maggie handed her breakfast. “Sit. Eat. And tell me all.”

Ella laughed and dropped into a chair. She took a bite of the muffin. “
Mmmm
. Good. Where do I begin?”

Maggie sipped her iced coffee and soaked up the details of what had happened in the shop, with Ella's kids, and the latest gossip winging around Lone Tree.

“Most of the talk lately has been about you.” Ella popped the last bite of muffin in her mouth. “Everybody's so proud. Mel ran a great story. Brawley took the pictures?”

She nodded.

“I thought he wasn't going.”

“So did I. He handed us all a tale about a conference he had in New York.”

“But?”

“Oh, the conference existed, and he did register for it. But he never attended a single day, and I don't think he ever intended to. My opinion? He went to support me.”

Her heart did a little flip-flop. She was having the damnedest time trying to hold on to any leftover mad.

“He's a good man, Maggie.”

“Yes, he is.”

“I don't know what happened between you and it's really none of my business, but sometimes people make mistakes.” Eyeing Maggie over her cup, she added, “And sometimes they deserve forgiveness.”

They sat quietly. Casey James's “Crying on a Suitcase” played over the sound system. The words arrowed straight to her already abused heart.

When she'd left, Brawley had dropped everything to drive to Austin to see her off. Then he'd flown to New York to be with her the day of her show. Her fingers moved to her bracelet, ran over the charm he'd given her that night. He'd always been there, cheering her on and supporting her.

Except the day their baby died.

He'd been nowhere around that day.

But then he hadn't known. Guilt assailed her. If the shoe was on the other foot, how would she have reacted when she'd found out about it?

She'd have been mad. No. Mad was too small a word. She'd have been livid. And he was—at first. Then his concern was for her. Sorrow at what she'd gone through. Regret he
hadn't
been there for her.

She let out a deep breath and said a quick prayer of thanks when the door opened and one of her Austin customers walked in.

“Laura!”

“Maggie? What are you doing here? I thought you'd be hobnobbing with the elite.”

She laughed. “Unfortunately, I'm a working girl regardless of where I lay my head at night.” Then she sobered. “A friend passed away. I came home for the funeral.”

The two talked as Ella showed Laura their new stock. When she finally left, loaded down with purchases, Maggie said, “Is it okay if I sneak away to the back room? I've got a couple ideas I'd like to get on paper.”

“You're the boss.” Ella waved a hand toward her hidey-hole. “Your room's been sad without you. Go. Have fun. Create.”

“Thanks.” She slipped off and closed her door. The room welcomed her, and she spent the first few minutes simply savoring the feel of it. She'd missed this. Missed her private spot. As great as her new studio was, she was rarely alone.

Perched on her stool, she pulled a drawing pad toward her and sketched quickly, the ideas scrambling to get out.

Time ceased to exist.

Every once in a while, she became aware of customers coming and going, heard snippets of conversation, but she quickly blocked them out.

Ella. What a gem. How lucky she'd been to find her.

The bell over the door chimed again. From the backroom, Maggie heard Ella's cheerful greeting followed by a deeper, masculine voice. Brawley. Asking for her.

Her stomach plunged to her toes. She could hide out in here. Pretend she didn't know he'd come.

Yeah, like he'd simply turn around and leave.

Girding her loins, so to speak, she decided she'd go to him rather than cowering in her hideaway. She caught a glimpse of herself as she passed the large mirror propped against the wall. If she stopped to run a hand over her hair or fuss with the skirt on her dress, it had nothing to do with the man outside the door. It was simply a professional woman who wanted to look her best for her customers.

She snorted. Who the heck did she think she was kidding?

Opening the door, she stepped out. “Hey, Brawley. Thought I heard you out here.”

He hung up the lacey blouse he'd been toying with. “Hey, yourself, gorgeous.”

“Don't you have work to do?”

“Yep, and I'm doing it. Ray Barrett called this morning. He's got a ranch on the outskirts of Lone Tree and had a sick horse. Been there for hours. Now, I'm finished, so I stopped by to ask if you'd have dinner with me.”

“Tonight?”

“Tonight.”

Maggie blinked and glanced at Ella.

“We're almost out of bags,” Ella said. “I'll get some more from the stockroom.” She disappeared, leaving Maggie alone with Brawley.

“Well?” he asked.

“I can't.”

“Sure you can.” He nudged his hat back from his forehead, then tucked his thumbs in his jeans pockets. “You afraid of me, Red?”

“Absolutely not.” Her chin rose. “I'm not afraid of anything.”

“Good. Glad we got that out of the way. Have dinner with me.”

Silence settled over the shop. She stared over Brawley's shoulder toward the street, praying she'd spy a customer or two headed her way.

The street and sidewalks remained empty.

“Brawley, I have so much on my mind right now. So do you. This isn't the best time for us to try to start anything again.”

“No, it probably isn't, but I think we already have. To be honest, I don't know if the time will ever be right, Mags, so maybe we need to grab what we've got. We're both here. Right now.”

“But not for long.”

“No, not for long. Would it really be so terrible to grab today, to take advantage of what we have for as long as we have it?”

“And not think about tomorrow?”