Can't Stop Loving You (7 page)

“We look funny, Uncle Brawley,” Jesse said as they ran back to him. “Are you gonna wear some?”

Brawley pulled his safety glasses from the larger bag and slid them on. He handed each of the kids an upholstery hammer, small enough for them to handle but big enough to produce some results.

Leading them over to an office wall, he drew a big X on it. “This needs to come down, men. Get 'er done.”

“You want us to hit the wall?” Josh wanted to be really sure before he did something undoable.

“Yep.”

Again, the triplets' heads swiveled as they looked at each other, then at their dad.

“Can we, Daddy?” Jesse asked.

Ty nodded. “You sure can.”

With whoops and hollers, the three tore into the wall. Laughing like loons, they watched as little chunks flew.

Ty, hands in the pockets of his jeans, watched them. “Might be the beginning of something here. The boys can run a wrecking business when they get older.” He laughed. “Hell, they run one now. At the house. Poor Sophie. I don't think she really understood what she was getting into when she took us on, but I sure am glad she did.”

He raised his sledgehammer and took down half a wall. Sheetrock and dust flew.

The boys clapped in delight.

“Wow, Daddy. You're strong.”

Ty raised an arm, showing off his muscles.

Working beside the others, Brawley asked, “How long do you think Maggie will stay in New York?”

Cash and Ty exchanged intense looks.

“She's moving there, Brawley,” Cash finally said.

“Yeah, but—”

“This is her dream, pal.” Ty rested his hammer on his shoulder.

“I know that.”

“Do you? You've been gone. You haven't seen how hard she works at her business.”

A muscle ticked in Brawley's jaw. “I'm not gonna screw it up for her.”

“Good, because she deserves this shot,” Cash said.

“Understood.” He brought his own tool down hard enough to crash through the wall, boards and all.

Done for the night, Brawley found himself unable to settle. He grabbed a Lone Star from the fridge and took it downstairs. Sitting in the dark in Dottie's garden, he stared into the vast Texas sky and watched the stars twinkle to life overhead.

Nursing his beer, he thought about Ty and Cash. They'd both driven home to their families. Would be tucked into bed tonight with their sweethearts. Would he ever get there?

He'd kept an eye on Ty and the boys tonight. Brawley wanted kids. Had always figured he'd have some by now. But his plans had gotten derailed somewhere along the way.

Maggie.

The moonlight turned the white flowers in Dottie's garden into shimmery, glowing torches. A place for fantasy. The perfect spot to sit and think about Red.

He'd loved her through junior high and high school, then had made the biggest, boneheaded move of his life. He'd honestly thought he was doing the right thing all those years ago, stepping aside so she'd go to her design school. That after they both finished college, they'd hook up again.

They hadn't.

Maggie being Maggie, she wouldn't forgive him. He'd miscalculated her fiery temper. Her stubbornness.

So he'd moved to Dallas after he graduated, certain he'd stop loving her eventually. He couldn't. So what had he done? Decided to pick up and move home. Woo Maggie. Court her. Storm her walls till she caved.

How had that worked, dumbass?

She was leaving. Moving to New York to follow those very dreams he'd given her space to find.

His timing was off. Way off. Again. But Cash was dead right. He had no business standing in her way.

He glanced again at the sky. Star-crossed lovers? He didn't believe in that shit. Tipping the longneck bottle, he drank. Maybe if he had a couple more of these, he could sleep tonight.

A couple crickets chirped, their voices sounding loud in the quiet. Thinking about heading upstairs to fetch another beer, he heard Maggie's car pull into the drive, watched the swath of light her beams cut through the darkness.

An overhead light went on when she opened her door, and quiet music from her radio spilled into the night. Apparently Rita had cooked more than the girls could eat because Maggie got out and her head disappeared into the back seat. She came out with a plate of goodies.

His stomach rumbled. He'd worked off every bite of that long-ago pizza.

Maggie walked Dottie to her door and saw her safely inside. She still wore those sexy-as-hell shoes, and his engine kicked into overdrive.

When she started back to the car, he called out, “Hey, Red. Got any more food stashed away in that car?”

Her head swiveled around, hand to her heart. “Geez, Brawley, you could give a girl a heart attack.”

“Didn't mean to startle you.”

“Didn't you guys eat tonight?”

“Yeah, but we busted butt. I'm starving again.”

She opened the back door and took out another plate. “You know my mom. She always makes twice as much as we need.”

“I was counting on that.”

She made to hand him the plate, but he shook his head. “Join me. Hold on a sec.” He zipped upstairs and grabbed two more beers.

Coming back down, he saw she'd moved to Dottie's little turquoise table and had unwrapped a taco salad, complete with sour cream and guacamole.

He handed her a beer, then broke off a piece of the shell and used it to scoop up salad. Mouth full, he mumbled, “Mmmm. Your mom's one of the best cooks in the county.”

They sat in the moonlight and devoured the salad.

She laughed. “Guess I was hungry, too.”

Their fingers touched, and he linked their hands, held tight when she tried to pull away.

“Brawley—”

“No, let's not fight. Not tonight. Give me fifteen minutes under the stars, Maggie. Surely we can manage that.” But he wondered if he could. He wanted, desperately, to kiss her.

“You ever go swimming at the hole anymore?” he asked.

When she shook her head, the moonlight glinted off her hair, her earrings. She looked for all the world like a fairy princess.

“Not anymore,” she said. “It's been years.”

“Wanna go?”

“Now?”

“Yeah.”

“You're crazy, Brawley.”

“About you.”

Her sigh filled the garden. “I really do have to go. I'm a businesswoman, and I have to be up early.”

He nodded.

She stood. “This was nice. Thanks.”

He took both her hands in his. She swayed toward him, started to kiss his cheek.

“No.” He met her lips with his. Hunger, raw and deep, ripped through him. He tasted the same emotion on her lips, in her. One kiss led to another and another.

Breathing hard, she broke away, running her fingers through her hair to push it off her face. “I can't do this. It was never a question of chemistry. We had that in spades.”

“We still do.” His voice was husky and ragged.

“I can't and won't deny that.”

“Come upstairs with me. Stay the night.” He trailed kisses along her neck, her collarbone. She shivered, and he knew she was close.

But she put her hands on his arms and pushed away. “I can't.”

“I know I handled things badly, but how can you hold it against me so long?”

She didn't answer. Simply turned to walk away.

He grabbed her hand and kissed it before she melted into the night, leaving him standing in the dark, wanting more. So much more.

He wanted to bawl like a baby.

A
pesky ray of sunlight caught him square in the eyes. Brawley rolled over, taking his pillow with him. Damn. He'd forgotten to close the shades.

There'd been some interesting goings-on in the driveway late last night. But he wouldn't think about that. Not yet.

Maggie would skin him alive if she found out about it and knew he knew but hadn't told her. The old rock and a hard place. He rubbed a hand over his chin. He should shave, but hell with it. He wasn't going into work, so why bother?

With every move, his muscles grumbled and groused, reminding him it had been way too long since he'd indulged in any real physical labor. The punching bag and weights in his fancy Dallas gym kept him in decent shape, but they sure as hell hadn't prepared him for hours wielding that sledgehammer.

By the time they'd destroyed and cleaned up last night, the kids had crashed. Jesse'd curled up on the reception room sofa and fallen fast asleep. Jonah had chosen the armchair next to him. They'd finally found Josh flat on his back behind the reception counter. All three still wore their swim goggles.

What amazed Brawley was that they hadn't so much as stirred when Ty removed the goggles or when the men hefted them up, carried them to the van, and strapped them in. Ty said they'd sleep all the way home, and he'd toss them into their beds, grubby clothes and all. Brawley wondered what Sophie had to say about that.

All in all, it had been an interesting evening.

His mind turned to Maggie. Last night in Dottie's garden, in the dark, he'd hoped. For what? Forgiveness? A turning back of the clock? It wasn't gonna happen. And that was about the most depressing thought he'd ever had.

He'd wanted her. Right here in his bed. Had, instead, stood and watched her drive away to her own.

And speaking of beds. Thank God, this would be his last night in this one. Way too soft. His own should arrive tomorrow. Before that happened, though, he had a lot to accomplish today.

Tossing the pillow aside, he squinted at the little jewel-box alarm clock. Another of Annie's treasures. Why neither she nor Sophie had taken it with them he didn't know. Today, though, it would be out of here, along with the rest of the fluff.

He groaned as he rolled over again. The next few hours were going to be busy. Time he crawled out of bed, got dressed, and threw on a pot of coffee. Cash should be here soon to help him haul away this stuff. Both Annie and Sophie had already assured him there wasn't anything here they needed or wanted.

He and Cash would toss everything in a neighbor's storage shed for now. Later, he hoped to hold a town-wide yard sale. One of the most appalling things about Maverick Junction was their lack of a humane society. He'd use the leftovers here to kick-start the fund-raiser.

Maybe he could talk Sophie into spearheading it. When she'd come into the clinic last fall, dragging an unkempt stray cat with her, the options had been limited. At the mere mention of euthanasia, she'd decided to keep Lilybelle. And because of that bedraggled animal, he and Ty had stopped by in time to beat the bloody hell out of the bastard who'd been stalking Sophie.

A knock at the door snapped him out of those unpleasant thoughts, and he unfisted his hands. “Door's open.”

Cash walked in, sniffing the air. “That coffee I smell?”

“Sure is. Those donuts I smell?”

“Sure are.” Cash grinned and set the bag of fresh-baked donuts on the table. “Stopped by Sadler's. Figured if you were gonna work me like a mule today, I needed my sugar fix first.”

“Amen to that.” He squinted at his friend. “Annie didn't fix a big farmhouse breakfast for you?”

Cash snorted. “You kidding? When I got up, she threw me a sleepy smile, pulled the covers over her head, and mumbled something about me having a good time with you today.”

“Smart woman. I wanted to stay in bed, too. I sure appreciate you coming over to help.” Brawley poured two mugs, and they stood, hips against the counter, drinking coffee and eating the dunkers.

Cash glanced around the apartment. “Annie and I had some good times here, but I sure can see why you want a change. Way too girly.”

Brawley chuckled. “Girly gone wild. Has she tried to do this to your house?”

“Nope. Thank God.” Cash took one last swig of coffee, then rinsed his cup and set it in the sink. “Okay, pal, let's get started. The sooner we do, the sooner we finish.”

They hauled and lugged. By their fourth trip, they cursed every one of the stairs up to the second-story apartment.

“Can I give you boys a hand?” Wiping her hands on a tea towel, Dottie opened her kitchen door.

“Thanks, but we've got it covered,” Cash said.

“That girl of yours sure ended up with a lot of stuff, didn't she?”

“Yes, ma'am.” Cash turned his ball cap backward.

“That your grandpa's sofa?” She nodded at the deep brown couch they'd set in the driveway.

“It is, and it's going home with me. I sure am glad Annie saved it from LeRoy's secondhand shop. I love this thing.” Cash ran a hand over the back of it. “I can't wait to watch my next ball game sprawled on it. I think it'll be real happy in our family room.”

“I think it will, too. Your grandpa would be pleased you're keeping it.”

“Yeah, he would.”

They slid the last nightstand into the back of Cash's truck as Brawley's mom pulled up in her snazzy little red convertible.

“Hey, good looking,” Brawley called.

“Hey, yourself, handsome. See you two got an early start.”

“If we're gonna hit the paint today, it made sense to clear out the place. Empty rooms paint easier. I talked to the moving company in Dallas yesterday, and they promised to deliver my stuff tomorrow.”

She nodded toward the truck. “Is that your bed in there?”

“Yep.” He scuffed his boot over the drive. “Well, technically, it's Annie's.”

“Where will you sleep tonight?”

“I've got a sleeping bag. I'll be fine.”

“Oh, honey, that's nonsense. Why don't you stay with your dad and me? It doesn't make sense to bunk on the hard floor.”

“I'm good. Honest.” He kissed the top of her head. “Don't worry about me, Mom. I'm a big boy. Let me give Cash a hand with this load before we run to Sadler's for the paint.”

“Did you pick out your colors?”

“Yes, ma'am, I did.” He pulled the paint cards from his pocket and tapped the pale gray. “This is it.”

“For the whole apartment?”

“Yep.”

“You're going to paint all the walls in every room the same color?”

“I am.”

“You are such a guy.”

“At the risk of sounding repetitive, I am.”

She reached up and ruffled his hair. “Yes, you are.”

“Except the ceilings. I'm gonna leave those cream. Annie painted them not even a year ago.”

“Hallelujah.” His mom raised her eyes to the heavens. “I hate ceilings. No matter how careful I am, I end up with more paint on me than on the Sheetrock.”

Cash laughed. “Wish the two of you could have seen Annie when I walked in on her painting this place. What a mess. It seems heiresses aren't expected to slap paint on their own walls, so she'd never lifted a brush in her life. But she was game. Have to give her that.”

“She's a good woman, Cash,” Karolyn Odell said.

“Don't I know it. The day she rode into Maverick Junction on that big black Harley of hers was the luckiest day of my life.”

“Oh, geez.” Brawley groaned. “Cut it out, Cash. You're feeding into all of my mom's fairy-tale shit.”

“Sorry.” The grin on Cash's face belied his words.

“Too bad somebody else can't settle down with one woman.” Karolyn's gaze strayed to her son.

“See? See what you've done?”

Cash laughed out loud.

Brawley scrubbed both hands over his face and let out a mammoth sigh. “Maybe you could run to Sadler's, Mom, and pick up the paint while we deal with this.” He nodded to the loaded truck.

“I could. And if you think I didn't catch that less than subtle attempt at changing the subject, you'd be wrong.”

“No, ma'am, I didn't. I wasn't aiming for subtle.” He fished a credit card from his wallet and passed it to her. “We'll need some rollers and—”

“Son of mine, I've done this a thousand times. I know exactly what we need.” Her eyes narrowed as she studied the paint chip. “Not sure I'd use this everywhere, but I have to admit it's a good choice. It'll go great with your furniture.”

When he nodded, she asked, “You sure you don't want a couple accent walls?”

“I'm sure.”

“Okay.” She drew out the word. “You're the one living with it.”

She stuck her head inside Dottie's open door. “You want to ride to Sadler's with me?”

“Give me two seconds.”

True to her word, his new landlady was out the door almost before the words left her mouth. In no time flat, Dottie and his mom were strapped in and headed to the store.

“Wonder what color she'll bring back for your accent walls,” Cash said.

“Your guess is as good as mine.”

Brawley's mom straightened, arching her back. “And that's that.” She laid her roller in the pan. “Looks wonderful, doesn't it?”

“Yes, it does. Gotta give you credit. You were totally right.” And she had been. She'd come back from Sadler's loaded down with paint supplies and his pale gray paint—and another couple gallons of a dark charcoal gray.

Every room had one wall in the deeper color, and darn if she hadn't nailed it. Exactly right. Masculine. Clean. Him.

Now if he only had some furniture.

He wrapped his mom in a big hug, smearing paint on both of them. “We did good, didn't we?”

“Yes, we did.” She rested her head on his chest. “I'm so glad you've come home.”

“I don't think Dad shares your enthusiasm.”

“He'll come around. At the bottom of it all, he's as happy to have you here as I am. He's just not sure it's best for you.”

“It is. It's what I want.”

“I know. Your dad will get there. Give him time.”

Through the open window, Brawley heard the crunch of tires. Glancing out, he saw Maggie's deep-blue, several-years-old Chrysler 300.

“You've got company.”

“Don't think so. It'd be a cold day in hell before Maggie came to see me.” Drying his hands on a paper towel, he stepped outside.

When the wind caught the door and slammed it behind him, Maggie glanced up. Her smile slipped away, and she reached for her back-door handle.

“Hey, Red. Wait a sec.”

“Why?”

“You can't take a minute or two to be neighborly?”

“Last night was nice, but nothing's changed.”

“You look tired, sugar.”

“Well, there you go, Brawley Odell. All that flattery. Who said you don't know how to sweet-talk a woman?”

“I didn't say you look bad, just tired.” Bad? No, sir. Not by a long shot. Dressed in a flame-red, silky top and pencil-thin black pants, the lady gave off enough heat to kindle a prairie fire.

Reaching into the back seat, she drew out a garment bag. “I couldn't sleep, so I ended up in the shop today before the sun topped the horizon.”

“That's not fun.”

“No. But—” She held up the bag. “I have Dottie's dress almost finished. Thought I'd stop by, do a rough fitting.”

“Her dress?”

“For the wedding.”

A grin split his face. “You're making her wedding dress?”

Maggie smiled and heat raced through him. “Yes.” She sighed. “Dottie and Pops. Can you believe it?”

“Gotta admit they caught me by surprise.”

Brawley's mother poked her head around the corner. “Maggie. Hello.”

“Hi, Mrs. Odell. I'd ask what you're doing here, but from the gobs of paint on your face and clothes, I can figure that out. Brawley put you to work, did he?”

“I volunteered. His furniture's coming tomorrow.”

“That's good. Did you finish painting?”

“Sure did,” Brawley said. “Mom's a slave-driver. Come up and take a peek. Looks a little different with all that blue gone.”

“I liked the blue.”

“You would.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. You like color, that's all.”

He watched while she replaced the garment bag in the car. Curiosity ran strong in her. He'd known she wouldn't be able to resist. Especially with his mom here to provide a safety net.

She sauntered across the drive on heels nearly as high as stilts and every bit as red as her top. Oh, yeah. Shoes like that did crazy things to a guy. He swiped a hand over his mouth. Those legs should be registered as a lethal weapon.

When she reached the top of the stairs, he stood aside while his mom carefully kissed Maggie's cheek so as not to get paint on her. He envied his mother when Maggie kissed her back.

The two loved each other. His mom had been beyond sorry when things hadn't worked out between them. She'd welcomed Maggie into the family, considered her the daughter she'd never had.

His dad, on the other hand, had been relieved he'd ended the relationship and made no bones about it. He loved Maggie, but he wanted more for his son and figured she'd hold him back. All these years later, Trace Odell made it clear that Brawley had better have moved back home for the right reasons—and not because of Maggie.

Brawley assured him he'd returned to Maverick Junction because he'd wanted to. Because he missed the simple things. Friends stopping by. Easy evenings over a beer. People who cared. His mom spending the day with him, helping him paint his walls.

Ten years ago, he'd embraced Dallas. Had wanted big city. Now he'd had it and was done with it.