Heaven, Texas (30 page)

“Please, Bobby Tom. Listen.”

His eyes skimmed over her. “Please me. That's what you said you wanted to do, isn't it?” His hands went to his own zipper, and he lowered it.

“Yes, but—”

He grabbed her arm. “No more talk, Gracie.” Still fully dressed, but with his shirt and pants open, he pushed her down on the bed and fell on her.

A flutter of uneasiness passed through her as he shoved a hard knee between her thighs. “Wait!”

“There's no reason to wait.” His hands yanked at her panties and his weight pinioned her while he stripped them away. She felt his knuckles dig into her pubic bone as he freed himself.

“I don't like this!” she cried.

“Give me a minute, and you will.”

He was using sex to avoid talking to her, and she hated it. “I said I don't like it! Get off me.”

“All right.” Imprisoning her in his arms, he rolled her so she was on top of him, but he held her bottom so tightly and pushed so insistently against her, that she felt no freer.

“No!”

“Make up your mind.” He rolled her beneath him again.

“Stop it!”

' “You don't want me to stop, and you know it.” His powerful chest pressed her to the mattress while he caught her behind the knees and shoved them apart, leaving her open and vulnerable. As she felt his fingers probe her, she balled her hand into a fist and slugged him in the back of the head as hard as she could.

“Ow!” He gave a yelp of pain and rolled off her, cradling his head with his hand. “Why'd you go and do that?” he cried indignantly.

“You
ass
!” She went after him, her fists flying despite the pain in her hand. As he lay on the bed, she swung at everything she could reach. He held up his arms to ward off her blows, yelping as a few of them landed on a tender spot, but not trying to restrain her.

“Stop it! That hurts, dammit!
Ouch!
What's wrong with you?”

“Damn you!” Her hands were throbbing with pain. She took one last swing at him and settled back on her heels. Her chest heaved as she clutched her blouse closed. His physical aggression hadn't been about sex, it had been about power, and at that moment she hated him for it.

He lifted his arms away from his head and gazed at her warily.

She threw herself from the bed and fumbled for the robe hanging on the back of the door. Her hands were aching so badly she had difficulty putting it on.

“Maybe we'd better talk about this, Gracie.”

“Get out of here.”

She heard the mattress creak and the sound of his footsteps as he left the room. Cradling her throbbing hands in her lap, she sagged down on the side of the bed, stifling a sob. It was finally over between them. She'd known today that it had to happen, but she'd never imagined it would end so bitterly.

She tensed as she heard him come back into the room. “I told you to leave.”

He pressed something cold between her hands, ice cubes wrapped in a dishtowel. His voice sounded thready and slightly hoarse, as if he were pushing it through some tight, polluted place. “This should keep them from swelling up.”

She stared down at the ice pack because she couldn't look at him. Her love for him had always felt like something warm and good, but now it felt oppressive. “Please go.”

His voice was barely a whisper. “I never did anything like that to a woman in my life. Gracie, I'm sorry. I'd do anything in the world to take back what just happened.”

The mattress sagged next to her. “I couldn't stand to hear you say you weren't going with me, and I had to make you stop talking. Why are you doing this, Gracie? We've had a real good time together. We're friends. There's no reason for it to stop just because of a misunderstanding.”

She finally allowed herself to look at him and was struck by the unhappiness in his eyes. “It's a lot more than a misunderstanding,” she whispered. “I can't be with you any longer.”

“Of course you can. We'll have a lot of fun in L.A. And as soon as the picture's over, I've been thinking we should take my mom on a cruise.”

At that moment she knew she had to be honest with him. She needed to find the courage to speak what was in her heart, not because she thought it would change anything, but because she would never be able to heal if she didn't do this. Meeting his eyes, she spoke the most difficult words she'd ever had to utter. “I love you, Bobby Tom. I've loved you almost from the beginning.”

He didn't look surprised by her admission, and his casual acceptance was another knife wound. She realized he'd known the way she felt all along, and contrary to her fantasies, he hadn't reciprocated at all.

He brushed his thumb over her cheek. “It's all right, honey. I've had experience with this before, and we can work it out.”

Her voice was a dry rasp. “Experience with what?”

“With this.”

“With women telling you they love you?”

“Heck, Gracie, it's just one of those things. It doesn't mean we can't be friends. We are friends. You might be just about the best friend I ever had.”

He was driving nails into her, and he didn't even know it.

“See, Gracie, it doesn't have to spoil anything. Something I've learned over the years is that, as long as everybody's polite about it, there isn't any need for all kind of big scenes and carrying on. People can still be friends.”

The corners of the ice cubes dug into her throbbing hands. “You're still friends with all the other women who've told you they loved you?”

“Almost all of them. And I want to stay that way with you. Now, I don't really think we have to talk about it anymore. We'll just go on the way we were, and everything'll work out. You'll see.”

The declaration of love that was so shattering to her was nothing more than a social embarrassment to him. If she'd needed any more proof of how little she meant to him, she'd just received it, and she felt numb and humiliated. “You still think I'm going to take the job you're offering?”

“You'd be crazy not to.”

“You don't understand anything, do you?” Her eyes brimmed with tears.

“Now, Gracie—”

“I'm not taking the job,” she said softly. “On Monday I'm leaving to go back to New Grundy.”

“You don't like the salary? Fine. We'll negotiate.”

“For all your talk, you don't know the first thing about love.” Tears spilled over her lashes and rolled down her cheeks. She slipped the chain that held his Super Bowl ring over her head and pressed it into his palm. “I love you, Bobby Tom, and I'll love you till the day I die. But I've never been for sale. I was a free offering all along.”

Bobby Tom strode across the yard at a slow, even pace. Halfway over he stopped to admire the moon, just in case Gracie was watching him from the window, but he didn't take as long about it as he wanted because he was having trouble breathing. He resumed his course toward the back door, forcing himself not to pick up his pace. He even tried to whistle, but his mouth was too dry. The ring in his pocket felt as if it were burning a hole through his hip; he wanted to pull the damned thing out and throw it as far from him as he could.

When he got inside the house, he closed the door then leaned against it, squeezing his eyes shut. He'd blown it, and he didn't even know how. Dammit! He was the one who did the rejecting. He was the one who decided when it was time to end a relationship! But she didn't understand that. She'd never understood the simplest things. What kind of fool would refuse the opportunity of a lifetime just to go back to some podunk town and empty bedpans?

He pushed himself away from the door and stalked through the kitchen. He wasn't going to feel guilty about this. Gracie was the one who'd done the rejecting, and this was on her conscience, not his. So she loved him. Of course, she loved him; he couldn't help who he was. But had she ever stopped to think for a minute about how he felt? The fact that he cared about her hadn't seemed to enter her mind. She thought she was so sensitive, but she didn't have a single qualm about stomping all over his feelings. She was the best friend he'd ever had, but she hadn't bothered to think about that.

The bedroom door banged against the wall as he pushed through it. Dammit! If Gracie figured she was going to send him into a tailspin by walking out on him, she could think again because he wasn't going to take this from her. She'd said she wasn't leaving until Monday, and he knew she'd be at the hoedown tomorrow night because she was running the Arbor Hills quilt lottery, and she always fulfilled her responsibilities. Well, he'd be ready for her.

Before he went to bed tonight, he was going to call Bruno and have him fly in an army of his old girlfriends. Tomorrow night at the hoedown, he intended to keep himself surrounded by beautiful women. Let Gracie Snow see exactly what she was walking away from. When she had to sit on the sidelines like some damned wallflower and watch all those sex trophies hanging on him, she'd come to her senses. A dose of reality was exactly what she needed. Before he knew it, she'd be trying to catch his attention so she could tell him she'd reconsidered. And because he loved her like a friend, he wouldn't even make her grovel.

He stared bleakly down at his empty bed. Tomorrow night she'd learn her lesson. Damned straight she would. She'd learn that no woman in her right mind
ever
walked away from Bobby Tom Denton!

T
hanks to Gracie's stubbornness, Bobby Tom played the worst round of golf of his life—and in his own damned tournament, too. As a result, he was forced to endure endless ribbing by his friends, their baiting tempered only by the news of his broken engagement.

That night, when he arrived at the hoedown, he felt so worn down he could barely hold up his end of the conversation with the sex trophies Bruno had, sent from Chicago. Amber made a point of telling him she was considering a career as a microbiologist when she got bored with exotic dancing; Charmaine announced she was a Leo born under the House of the International Pancake, or some such bullshit, and Payton was hinting around to take the freakin' football quiz! Bobby Tom wanted to dump all three of them on Troy Aikman, but he needed them nearby if he was going to bring Gracie to her senses.

To give Bruno credit, the women were stunners, but Bobby Tom couldn't work up a speck of interest in any one of them. They were wearing their own versions of authentic Western dress: Amber in shrink-wrapped jeans and a bandanna top with a sheriffs badge nestled in her cleavage, Payton in a saloon girl's costume cut down to her navel, and Charmaine in a cowgirl skirt made entirely out of fringe. When he caught a glimpse of Gracie dressed in the same prim yellow gingham outfit she'd worn to the birthplace dedication yesterday morning, he couldn't help think she looked better than all three of them put together, an observation that did nothing to improve his mood.

The hoedown was being held at a ranch several miles out of town, and it was a semiprivate affair for the participants in the golf tournament, the
Blood Moon
people, and the Heavenfest committee members, which made up a large portion of the town. At Bobby Tom's insistence, the gathering had been closed to tourists so the celebrities could have a real party without being hounded to death for autographs, something all the locals had been forbidden to do. The only formal event of the evening was a presentation ceremony where Bobby Tom would recognize the winners of the golf tournament. The tourists, in the meantime, hadn't been forgotten, and the locals would be coming and going throughout the evening to make certain the events in town were running smoothly: the amusement park rides at the rodeo arena, the country and western bands, the food concessions.

The trees around the ranch house had been strung with colorful lights, and a temporary dance floor had been erected near the barn, along with a small, bunting-draped platform for the presentation ceremony. Once again, Bobby Tom's gaze made its way to the table off to the side of the dance floor, where Gracie was selling raffle tickets for the patchwork quilt handmade by the Arbor Hills residents, and the sight of her filled him with such a painful rush of emotion he quickly looked away.

“Hey, B.T., you seemed to have had a little trouble on the back nine today.” Buddy ambled up with Terry Jo at his side, both of them in jeans and Western shirts, holding plastic cups of beer in their hands.

“The front nine, too,” Terry Jo said, shooting a malevolent look at the sex trophies and then eyeing Bobby Tom. “Entertain B.T.'s love children for a minute, will you, Buddy? Me and Mr. Hotshot need to have us a talk.”

The last thing Bobby Tom wanted at that moment was a private conversation with Terry Jo, but she didn't give him much choice as she grabbed his arm and pulled him away from the others toward the fence. “What the hell is wrong with you?” she demanded, the minute they were out of earshot. “You know what you're doing to Gracie, don't you, breaking your engagement like that?”

He regarded her indignantly. “Did she say I broke our engagement?”

“She didn't say hardly anything when I talked to her this morning, just that the two of you reached a mutual decision to end your relationship.”

“And you assumed that meant I ended it.”

“Didn't you?”

“Hell, no.”

“Are you saying Gracie dumped you?”

He saw too late the trap he'd laid for himself.

“  'Course not. Nobody dumps me.”

“She did, didn't she? She dumped you! Holy Moses! A person of the female species finally gave Bobby Tom Denton back a little bit of what he's been giving out.” Grinning widely, she lifted her face to the heavens. “Thank you, Jesus!”

“Will you stop that! She didn't dump me. Haven't you figured out by now that we were never really engaged! It was just a ploy to keep everybody off my back while I was in town.” The fact that Terry Jo was making a joke out of this hurt in a way he couldn't express.

“Of course you were engaged. A blind fool could see the two of you love each other.”

“We do not! Well, maybe she loves me, but  .  .  . I care about her. Who wouldn't? She's about the best kind of woman there is. But, love? She's not my type, Terry Jo.”

Terry Jo gave him a long, steady gaze. “It's amazing. You don't know any more about women now than you did in high school when you threw me over for Sherri Hopper.” She regarded him sadly. “When are you going to grow up, Bobby Tom?”

Without another word, she walked away from him. He stared at her back with a combination of resentment and misery. Why did she act like this was his fault? And when had his life gotten so screwed up? Until recently he'd thought it was the day he blew out his knee, but now he wondered if the real catastrophe hadn't struck the night Gracie showed up at his house with her striptease.

Natalie walked up to him with Anton, who was carrying Elvis. As he greeted them, he thought what a beautiful woman she was. Nice, too. He'd seen her buck naked, kissed her for hours on end. She'd leaked on him, wrestled with him, shot at him, and just yesterday they'd had to jump in the river together. He and Natalie had been through a lot, but he didn't feel close to her, not even half as close as he felt to Gracie.

The three of them chatted for a couple of minutes, and the next thing he knew he was holding Elvis so his parents could dance. The baby grabbed for the brim of his Stetson, and when he couldn't reach that, settled for sucking on one end of the black silk scarf Bobby Tom had tied around his neck. Although he'd always been particular about his clothes, he couldn't work up enough energy to rescue it. The baby smelled sweet and clean, and he felt a queer ache deep inside.

The sex trophies were coming toward him, but he pretended he didn't see them and ducked behind one of the outbuildings just so he could have a few minutes to pull himself back together. Elvis started sucking on his shirt collar. As he emerged near one of the food tables, he saw his mother standing about ten yards away. She was dressed in a long dark skirt and a prim white schoolmarm's blouse fastened at the neck with his grandmother's old cameo brooch. He stiffened as he watched Way Sawyer approach her. At the same time he noted that Way looked like the real thing in faded jeans, a beat-up hat, old boots, and a flannel shirt.

His mother acted as if she were about to jump out of her skin when she saw Sawyer. He put his hand on her shoulder, and Bobby Tom tensed, ready to spring to her aid until he noticed that her whole body had gone slack.

For a moment, he had the sickening feeling she was going to lean against Sawyer, but then her back stiffened, and she walked away.

Way stood there without moving. When he finally turned, Bobby Tom saw such raw despair on his face that he knew he would never forget it. He tightened his hold on the baby and felt himself start to sweat. What was wrong with him? Why did he feel as if he and Way Sawyer were suddenly brothers?

“You're breaking Bobby Tom's heart,” Terry Jo hissed, as she drew Gracie from the table where she'd been selling raffle tickets and continued the lecture that had begun some minutes earlier. “How can you walk away from him like this?”

Although Gracie was seldom sarcastic, the three willowy blondes who were once again hanging on Bobby Tom's arm had breached her defenses. “He certainly looks heartbroken.”

“He doesn't care about those bimbos, and you know it. He cares about you.”

“Caring is a long way from loving.” She watched as one of the beauties tipped her beer cup to his lips. She didn't know which was more painful: watching him earlier when he had been holding Elvis or seeing him now with those incredible women. “It just hurts too much to stay around him any longer.”

Terry Jo showed no sympathy. “Anything worth having is worth fighting for. I thought you had more grit than this, but I keep forgetting you're a Yankee.”

“I don't understand why you're so outraged. Everybody's been telling me from the day I got here that I'm not his type.”

“That's true. But it's like Bobby Tom kept saying, 'There's no accounting for the mysteries of the human heart.'  ”

“He was putting people on when he said that! Surely you know that most of what comes out of his mouth is a complete fabrication.”

Terry Jo got huffy. “It is not. Bobby Tom Denton is one of the most sincere people I've ever met.”

“Ha!”

“For somebody who's in love with him, you sure are critical.”

“Just because I love him doesn't mean I'm blind.” She drew away. “I've got to get back to the table.”

“No, you don't. Suzy's bridge club is taking over for the rest of the evening. You get out there and have a good time. Show him he can't manipulate you like this because that's what he's doing, and everybody knows it.”

As if Terry Jo had commanded it, Ray Bevins, one of the cameramen from
Blood Moon,
appeared at Gracie's side. “I've been waiting all evening for you to finish up so we could dance, Gracie.”

Gracie ignored Terry Jo's encouraging smile. “I'm sorry, Ray, but I'm not feeling too much like dancing tonight.”

“Yeah, I heard you and Bobby Tom broke up. Seems like he's doing his best to make you jealous.”

“He's just being himself.”

“You shouldn't let him manipulate you like that. All the guys on the crew like Bobby Tom, but I guess it's no secret that some of us have more than a friendly interest in you. We flipped to see who got to dance with you first, and I won.”

She gave him a grateful smile. “Thank you, but, to be honest, I just don't have the heart for it.” Before either Ray or Terry Jo could press her, she slipped away from them into the crowd. It was nice to know some of the men found her desirable, but she simply didn't have the ability to be sociable tonight.

She slumped down in a seat at the wooden picnic table where Natalie and Anton had parked all of Elvis's gear. Only after she was settled did she realize that her position gave her a clear view of Bobby Tom standing in the middle of a herd of women. He looked as if he were having the time of his life, laughing and carrying on, obviously enjoying the fact that he was now a free man. One of the women hand-fed him taco chips, while another rubbed up against his arm. Almost as if he could feel Gracie watching, he lifted his head and turned, letting his gaze sweep over her. Their eyes locked, and for a moment neither of them moved. Then he smiled at the woman standing beside him. As Gracie watched, he dropped his head and gave her a slow, deliberate kiss.

If he'd wanted to cause her additional pain, he couldn't have found a better way. He cupped the back of the woman's head in his hand, and as he deepened the kiss, she remembered exactly the way it felt.
I own that mouth!
she wanted to cry out.

Several athletes she recognized from the dinner last night approached him, and before long he was entertaining them with what must have been a very funny story, judging by their reactions. At the same time, he kept his arms draped around two of the women. She knew better than anyone how charming he could be, and it wasn't long before a small crowd gathered to listen to him.

“Toolee Chandler told me if I bought ten raffle tickets, she'd throw in a dance with you.” Her head shot up, and she saw Way Sawyer standing next to her, a fan of raffle tickets in his hand.

She smiled. “I appreciate the support, but I don't feel much like dancing.”

He extended his hand and drew her to her feet. “Come on, Gracie. You look like a whipped puppy.”

“I'm not very good at hiding my feelings.”

“That's not exactly big news.” He looped an arm around her shoulders, and, to her shock, planted a kiss square on her mouth. She was so surprised she was speechless.

“That,” he grinned, “is going to drive Bobby Tom Denton right over the edge.”

Firmly taking command, he drew her onto the dance floor. The band was playing a ballad, and he pulled her close to his chest, where she felt so comfortable she wanted to close her eyes and rest her head.

“You're a nice man,” she said. “I knew it all along.”

“Even before I made the announcement about Rosatech?”

“I never for a minute thought you'd close it. All anyone had to do was look at you and they could have figured that out.”

His chest rumbled with a low chuckle. They danced for a while in silence, and then she felt an almost imperceptible tensing of his muscles. She followed the direction of his gaze and saw Suzy pass by, dancing with Buddy Baines. She gazed up at him and saw how sad he looked.

“Bobby Tom's not being deliberately cruel, you know,” she said softly. “He's very protective of her. Sooner or later he's going to come to his senses.”

“You do have an optimistic view of human nature.” He steered them to another part of the dance floor, changing the subject at the same time. “People are going to be sorry to see you leave. You've done more good in this town in a short time than most of them have done in their lives.”

She was genuinely astonished. “I haven't done anything.”

“Is that so? Let me see if I've got this right. You've formed a volunteer organization to improve the facilities at Arbor Hill as well as set up a recreational program there. It was your idea to establish a senior citizens center. I also hear that you've spent a lot of time at Arbor Hills just visiting with some lonely people. I guess, in my mind, that counts for a lot more than somebody who hasn't done any more with his life than win football games.”

She started to protest. Bobby Tom gave to others in countless ways, both money and his time. But then she stopped herself. Mr. Sawyer wasn't talking about Bobby Tom; he was talking about her. And he was right.

When had she gotten into the habit of viewing her own accomplishments as being so much less important than anyone else's? Was seeing to the comfort of the elderly of less value than being blessed with good looks and natural charm? She felt oddly disoriented. It was as if a door she hadn't even known existed had swung open, giving her a fresh look at herself, a look that was suddenly uncluttered by the emotional baggage she'd carried around all her life. She had friends, people who cared about her, and she did her best to live her life by the Golden Rule.