Can't Stop Loving You (3 page)

Cash chuckled. “Shame you don't have somebody to share it with. You might change your mind.”

“You're such a newlywed.”

“I am that, and I'm enjoying it immensely.”

“Bragging SOB.”

“Not bragging. Simply telling it like it is.” Before Brawley could respond, Cash said, “I think all this is very manageable. Let's run to Bubba's and draw up some plans over a beer. Maybe have Ty meet us there. Since he and I both did most of the work on our houses, we should be able to handle the renovations ourselves. Most of them anyway.”

Cash slung an arm around Brawley's shoulder. “Good to have you back.”

“Tell Maggie that.”

“Different rodeo, buddy.”

“You know she's leaving.”

“Yep.”

“Shit. Everybody but me.” He pulled out his cell and called Ty, who took a pass. His triplets were in a play at their preschool.

On the drive to Bubba's, Brawley and Cash tossed around the chances of the Rangers having a good season, the reasons the Cowboys hadn't had one, Cash's ranch, and Brawley's new business.

Just like old times. A night out with his best pal. Finally, he was in the driver's seat, figuratively and literally. Nothing could upset him tonight.

H
urt Brawley Odell?

What a bunch of bull. How did you hurt a man who had no heart?

For the briefest instant, Maggie's conscience threatened. None too gently, she nudged it away.

Still, her traitorous mind flashed back to that awful night before last Christmas. It had been Brawley who'd decided to stop at Sophie's with a tag for her cat, who'd walked in on her and the creep from Chicago who'd broken into her apartment. While Ty soothed Sophie, Brawley had nailed plywood over her broken window and swept up the glass. Sophie had said that beneath his golden tan, Brawley had been nearly as pale and white-lipped as she had. Still, he'd done what needed doing.

She'd watched him care for Doc Gibson's four-legged patients, his compassion almost heartbreaking at times. He talked quietly to them, soothed them and their worried owners.

So, obviously, somewhere in that tanned, muscled chest there actually was a warm, beating heart. Too bad it turned to stone whenever she was involved.

It hadn't always. Images of them wrapped in each other's arms in the back seat of his dad's Chevy, lying together in a field of bluebonnets under the hot Texas sun, playing down at the swimming hole. They'd been inseparable. Maybe they'd been too intense. Like anything else that hot, the relationship had burned itself out.

For him, anyway.

Mentally rearranging tonight's plans, adjusting from dreams of a quiet evening reading to a boisterous night at Bubba's with the whole family, she pulled into the drive of her grandfather's house and stopped at the mailbox. The usual. A telephone bill, two catalogs—one selling seeds and the other novelty items, a grocery flier advertising the week's must-have deals, and a hearing aid advertisement.

Entering the house, Maggie kicked off her heels and dropped both her purse and the mail on an oak stand in the foyer. She carried the remnants of her iced tea into the living room.

Her grandfather lounged in his recliner, remote in hand, flicking through the channels. He popped an almond into his mouth from the little bowl at his elbow.

Maggie's heart twisted. She hated the thought of leaving him here alone while she flew off in search of her future. She had to tell him. Tonight. Before someone else did. Her stomach tightened in anticipation. He'd be lonely, but he'd be furious if she gave up her big chance to stay here with him.
Damned if you do, damned if you don't.

She forced a smile. “Fletcher Sullivan, you are one handsome cowboy. I'm going to have to beat off all the women tonight once they catch sight of you.”

“Not bad for an old geezer, huh?” Voice gruff, dressed in his best western shirt and a new pair of jeans she'd laundered last night to get rid of the initial stiffness, he grinned. He'd combed his silver-white hair neatly from a side part. “Goin' out with my favorite girl. Got to look good. Don't want to put you to shame.”

“That'll never happen, Pops. I'm the luckiest granddaughter on earth.”

He pushed himself out of the leather chair, crossed the room, and gave her a hug and a kiss. “We need to talk, honey.”

Oh, God, he knew. Her mouth went as dry as week-old cornbread. “Pops—”

He shushed her. “First, though, I understand Brawley came by the shop today. Gave you a bad time. Want me to talk to the boy?”

She smiled, relieved at the reprieve. “No. I can handle him.” Sure she could. The way a rabbit would handle a rattler and probably with the same results.

“You sure?”

She nodded.

He didn't look convinced, but he let it drop. “We still have to talk, sugar, but it can wait till we're on our way. Your mother called again to make sure we'd be there. Told her to keep her pants on, that we'd be there when we got there and not a minute sooner.”

“I'll bet she loved that. Give me five.” She flew upstairs to her room, filled with dread. Since it wasn't Brawley's visit, he either already knew about her move…or something was wrong with him.

Oh, boy. Silly to let her mind leap to that. Pops was healthy as an ox and busier than he'd been in ages. She had a hard time catching him home anymore. It seemed he had plans with the guys almost every night, out doing whatever guys his age did. And that was a good thing. Friends. The staple of life.

Once in her room, she closed the door, leaned against it, and let out a huge sigh. Felt the day slip away. She loved this room. The rest of the house remained locked in a time warp. Nothing had changed in the old two-story since forever.

After Grandma passed away and Maggie moved in, she'd understood his need to keep his wife of nearly fifty years close. Because of that, she'd resisted any and all urges to redecorate. She had, though, totally redone one of the guest rooms and made it her own.

The Baxters, Grandpa's closest neighbors, had decided to modernize their farmhouse living room. That included tearing out a beautiful old fireplace surround. When Maggie heard they intended to toss it, she'd snapped it up, painted it a soft ivory, and turned it into her headboard.

Both her bedroom walls and a salvaged chandelier were now the color of good champagne. She'd mixed in splashes of midnight blue. She squinted at a throw pillow. The exact color of Brawley's eyes. Oh, God. Why hadn't she realized that before now? It was so not the reason she'd chosen the shade, though. She'd picked it because she liked it. Because it soothed her. Normally.

Well, enough lollygagging. Time was wasting. She unzipped her slacks and stepped out of them, slid the soft sweater over her head. Standing in her closet doorway, she sighed. Smiled. Her private closet looked darned near as pretty as her store. Clothes were the love of her life.

And those clothes, the designs she'd created, had lavished her imagination on, would take her away from her grandpa. Oh, he'd be stoic about it, tell her she had to follow her heart, but still…Maybe he should close up this big old house and move in with her parents.

That wasn't going to happen, and she knew it. He and Gran had moved in here as newlyweds, had brought their baby, her dad, home from the hospital to this house. Had raised him here.

No. Fletcher Sullivan wouldn't leave this house. But anticipating telling him about her plans was definitely taking some of the shine off her dream.

And now there was Brawley.

She pulled out her best pair of cowgirl boots. If she was going to Bubba's with Pops, boots were almost a requirement. A pair of jeans and a floaty top in shades of green finished her off. She took three minutes to refresh her makeup, then unclipped and shook out her hair.

Bounding down the stairs, she saw Pops in the foyer, hat on. Obviously he was in a hurry to get the show on the road.

He opened the door, and she stepped out into the early spring evening. The temperature had plunged, and she hesitated, wondering if she should run back upstairs for a sweater. Nah. Bubba's would be warm, and she could run the heater on the way home.

Neither of them spoke as she backed the car down the drive and headed toward Maverick Junction. The moon was nearly full, the sky clear, the stars amazing. Maggie considered turning on the radio but realized that would be cowardly.

Before she could find the right words, Pops cleared his throat. He didn't look at her, stared straight ahead. “Maggie, honey, it's time we had a talk. One I've put off too long. Shouldn't have.”

A groan welled up in her, but she batted it down. She'd waited too long. Someone else had told him.

“It's as much my fault as yours, Pops.” She took one hand from the wheel and gave his a squeeze.

“Your fault?” His head snapped around to study her. “Why in the world would you say that?”

She frowned. “I—”

“No,” he said. “Just listen. Time I took this old bull by the horns and had my say.”

“Okay.” Jeez, the way her stomach was flipping around, she'd never be able to eat a bite if they didn't get this hashed out before they reached Bubba's.

“You're a good girl, Maggie, and I'm proud of you. I understand people look at you and see what you want them to see. You like some bling, like your fun. But you also like the status quo. Despite all the glitz and glamour, at heart, you like nothing better than a rainy Sunday spent in an old pair of pajamas, reading.”

“True, but—”

“I loved your grandma with all my heart. Always will.”

What the heck? Maggie shot him a glance. What did Grandma have to do with her move? This definitely wasn't the direction she'd expected their conversation to take.

“I know that, Pops. But what does any of this have to do with New York?”

“New York?” He reared back. “Who said anything about New York?”

She inhaled sharply. “I'm confused.”

“'Course you are. You keep interrupting me instead of listening.”

And she'd been chastised. Sure not the first time. Better to say nothing, simply wait for him to finish.

“Okay, then.” As if in a rush to get the words out, he blurted, “Dottie and I are getting married.”

“What?” The car swerved into the other lane. She whipped it back. Her eyes fastened on her grandfather briefly. His gaze focused on the passing scenery, he braced his feet on the floor, grabbed the hand rest, and pressed his back into the seat.

“Pops,” she snapped. “Look at me. Say that again.”

“You'd best watch where you're going before the sheriff's got to send the ambulance out for us.”

She turned her attention back to the two-lane highway that stretched ahead for miles and miles.

“I asked Dottie Willis to marry me. She said yes.” He swallowed hard.

“Dottie?”

“That's what I said, didn't I?”

“Dottie Willis?”

“Yes, ma'am. Nothin' wrong with your hearing.”

Her eyes flicked from the road to him, back to the road. She tried to speak, but no words came. Her grandfather and Dottie Willis? And she'd been clueless.

“I know this probably comes as a surprise to you—”

“A surprise?” she croaked.

“We've been seeing each other on and off since Cash's Fourth of July barbecue.”

“That's almost a year.”

“Yep.”

“All those dinners and nights out with the guys?” She took a sip of her now warm tea.

He had the good grace to look shamefaced. “Some of them actually were guys-nights-out, but I spent a lot of them with Dottie. We took it slow.” He gave a nervous little laugh. “Although at our age that's probably kind of risky.”

He shrugged. “I love her, Maggie. The woman makes me feel like a man again instead of some old, worthless, worn-out bag of bones.”

She rubbed her forehead, not wanting to dig too deeply into what exactly that might entail.

“This doesn't change anything, sweetie. Dottie and I haven't decided if we're going to keep her house or mine, but we'd love to have you live with us.”

She laughed. “With a couple of lovesick newlyweds?”

Her grandfather scowled. “It's won't be like that. We're too old to be carrying on.” He actually blushed and gave her a sidelong look, his lips curving into a slow smile. “Much.”

Maggie was glad she'd swallowed her last drink of tea. Otherwise, sure as the sun rose in the morning, she'd have spurted it across the dashboard. Hot on the heels of that thought came the realization that her grandfather wouldn't be alone when she left for New York.

A heavy weight lifted from her shoulders, and a huge grin broke free.

“First, Pops, let me say congratulations. As soon as I get parked at the roadhouse, I'll give you a big old hug and a kiss. Then, I'm ordering a bottle of Bubba's finest champagne—if he carries any—and which will probably be one step away from rubbing alcohol—to toast your upcoming nuptials.”

She paused, let out a huge breath. “There's something else, though. Something
I
need to share. To discuss with you. It's what I thought you were upset about.”

“I'm not upset.”

“I realize that now. But you said you wanted to talk, and you were acting kind of funny.”

“I was nervous.”

“Nervous? You?”

“About telling you. Afraid you'd think I was being unfaithful to your grandmother.”

“Oh, Pops.” Her eyes filled with tears, and she blinked frantically. “Never. Grandma Trudy was a lucky, lucky woman. All anybody had to do was look at the two of you, and they couldn't help seeing the love you shared. You were a great husband; she was a wonderful wife. You set an incredible example of what marriage should be.”

Her hands gripped the wheel a little tighter as emotion flooded her. “But Grandma wouldn't want you to live the rest of your life alone.” She glanced up through the windshield and waved a hand at the early evening sky. “My guess is that biggest, brightest star up there is her, smiling down on us right now. Giving her blessing.”

Maggie heard a muffled sound and swiveled to see her grandpa blowing his nose on the white handkerchief he always carried. Even in the dim light from the dash, she saw his eyes were moist. Her own throat ached with unshed tears.

My news, now.
Time to dive in. “You know I signed to do a fall line of clothing.”

“Yep. For one of them big labels. I'm so damned proud of you, Maggie, girl. You put off going away to school to help with Grandma when she got sick, then one thing and another. Turns out you didn't need that piece of paper. You're gonna be a huge success without that degree.”

“I think the jury's still out on that.”

“You've got a gift, Maggie, and now the world is gonna get to see it.”

“The show's in New York.”

Dawning realization flashed in his eyes. “How long you gonna be gone?”

“I'm moving there, Pops.”

Voice thick, he said, “Should have guessed that. Probably would have if I hadn't been so wrapped up in my own doings.”