Never Let You Down: The Connaghers, Book 4 (3 page)

He caught her looking in the mirror and let out a low laugh. “You’re thinking I look like I’ve been in a war or two? You’d be right, as long as you’re assuming the thing I battled was a rodeo.”

“You got all those scars in rodeos?”

Nodding, he turned around to face her, leaning back on the sink as if he was trying to make himself less tall and possibly threatening in the enclosed space. “Sure did. Mostly bull riding, but I busted my left arm and three ribs last time I rode a bronc.” He touched the torn-up skin on the inside of his left forearm. “Bone poked through. It was a mess. Took months to heal and it still pains me some.”

“That’s why…” Her tongue quit working but he caught her meaning and smiled slightly.

“That’s why I had to end up bracing my whole arm against the wall, rather than my palm. The pressure on the bone started to hurt too much for me to concentrate on the other hurt. The good hurt.” He kept his gaze steady on her face. “The hurt you gave me.”

A thousand questions jammed together in her brain, but she could only voice one. “Why?”

He shrugged and dropped his gaze to his palms, studying his hands like he’d never seen them before. They were broad and large, rough and torn and calloused from a lifetime of wrangling critters, fixing fence, shoveling manure, and whatever else the job required. “I don’t rightly know. I just know that I’ve only rarely ever been able to come like that. You might not believe me given all the ladies chasing cowboys at the rodeos, but that wasn’t ever for me. I couldn’t enjoy it, not like a normal man. I always need some kind of pain, and to find a woman who can understand that need and help me with it…” He sighed again and fisted his hands, pushing up to his full height. Though he didn’t dare look back into her face. “I can’t thank you enough, but you ain’t for me, Princess.”

She didn’t understand the panic that roared through her. Instead of crying like a virgin, now she wanted to wail like a banshee at the thought of him walking away, even though she still didn’t know him.
Don’t I, though? Don’t I know him better than most women, if I was able to do for him what others couldn’t?
“What? Why?”

“I’m a rodeo bum.” He said it hard, baldly, his teeth grinding on each word like he was chewing on rocks. “You’re a princess, the rich boss’s daughter who rides a horse worth more than everything I own in this world a hundred times over. A thousand.”

“So?”

He laughed harshly and ran a hand through his sweaty hair. It was odd to see him without his hat. A permanent dent was worn into his dark hair from where it set on his head. He’d cropped his hair short with just a little fullness on top, barely enough to even need a comb. “So? You said Colonel Healy would put a bullet in me for laying a hand on you. What the hell is he going to do if he ever finds out what else we did?”

“That was different.” Deliberately, she said it primly, which drew a snort from him. “That was when I didn’t want you. If I do want you, then Daddy couldn’t care less.”

Tyrell stilled, his sudden intensity searing her brain to ash. “And do you want me? Now? Knowing what kind of man I am?”

Boldly, she ran her gaze over him from head to toe, taking in the narrowness of his hips and waist, the sagging jeans just barely keeping his modesty. “Hmmm,” she hummed out as if deep in thought. “Maybe.”

He growled and took a single step toward her before catching himself. “Maybe?”

“Maybe,” she repeated. “I’ll have to have another kiss or two to be sure. Maybe more.”

“Then I guess you’ll just have to sample me again,” he drawled, his voice low and deep. It did crazy things to her insides, melting them into a puddle. “Run me through my paces. See if I have the staying power for a woman like you. I promise you that I have the endurance and the heart to last until my breath stills forever and they put me in the ground.”

She took his invitation, stepping close enough to feel the heat rising off his body like a furnace. He smelled like leather, buttery soft and fine. Funny how his boots were dried and caked in muck, his belt cracked, but she’d never seen a better cared for saddle and bridle than when he rode by. She’d taken to asking him to polish her tack because no one else could get the same shine. Not even her. “A woman like me?”

“Most of the time, you’re going to take what you want and pity the fool who don’t get out of your way fast enough. Other times, though, you want someone to reach out and risk everything he has just to feel the softness of your skin and smell the sweetness of your hair. Even though it’ll rile you up and you’ll lay into him like an angry polecat. Luckily that’s exactly what I want.”

Holding her breath, she laid her head on his chest. His arms came around her, cocooning her in his strength and warmth. With a shudder, she let out a sigh and relaxed into his embrace, letting him hold her as he’d promised. He didn’t press the advantage, sensing her need for comfort and reassurance that he’d no more hate her for hurting him than she could hate him for needing it.

“Are you spoken for? Promised to anyone?”

She didn’t lift her head. Should she tell him about Jebadiah? But why? So she’d known him her whole life. So the whole town assumed they were a couple. The man had never kissed her. Never held her like this. Even the few times they’d been alone, nothing had happened.
Which is probably why Daddy trusted him to escort me.
She pushed the twinge of guilt away. “Why?”

“Just figuring out who I need to wrangle for the right to court you properly.”

“Nobody but Daddy and I’ll take care of him.”

“No, you won’t. That’s my job.”

She tipped her head back so she could see if he was just joking, but his face was solemn. “You’re serious? You’re going to talk to Daddy and tell him…what?”

“That I’m done with rodeos for good. That I’ll do any job he wants as long as he lets me stay on. That I love you with all my heart and soul and I’ll do anything to make you happy. I’ll work night and day until I can provide what you want.”

Her heart soared, even though it was crazy. He couldn’t possibly love her already. Could he? Could she love him? Sure, she’d kissed him. She’d done more with him than she’d ever done with any man in her entire life. But… “Daddy—”

“Nope,” he cut in. “I’d have to be an idiot not to know your daddy’s loaded with this fine ranch sprawling out in all directions as far as I’d care to ride. I won’t take a dime of his money. You tell me what you want and I’ll get it.”

“I want you.” It surprised her, but as soon as she said it, she knew it was the truth. No one else had the courage to step up and risk her fury—and her parents’—to find out what kind of man she wanted. And now she knew that the kind of man she wanted was standing right here.

“And? What else?” he insisted, though he tightened his arms around her. “What will make you happy? What’s your dream? Not your daddy’s dream, not your pretty movie-star mother’s. What’s yours?”

She didn’t have to think about it. “I want enough land to raise and train my own show horses. A barn and corral. Enough equipment to travel properly to the shows until I make a big enough name that people will come find me instead.”

“Where?”

“Nowhere but Texas.”

“You got it.” He pulled away and reached for his hat and shirt tossed in the corner, as if he were going to go out right now in the middle of the night and start looking for that land they’d make their own. But she dug her fingers into his waist hard enough he turned back and looked down into her face, eyes narrowed.

“Didn’t you forget something?”

A slow smile softened the hard lines of his face. “Yes’m, I imagine I did.”

One of those big, broad palms cupped the back of her head and he bent down to kiss her once more. She pressed up against him, rising up on her tiptoes to get as much of him as she could. Assured of her choice, he let his hands roam up and down her back. He molded the curve of her hips, the dip of her waist, and finally, at last, he cupped her breasts in both hands. His thumbs rubbed her nipples through her shirt and the ache she’d felt watching him earlier came back a thousand fold, spreading fiery heat all through her veins.

When he lifted his head, she moaned. The knowing twinkle in his eyes made her want to punch him.

“I’d be pleased and honored to return the favor if your folks are going to be gone awhile.”

As if Miss Belle had picked up on the disturbance and threat to her daughter’s virginity, a car pulled up the driveway. The sound made Virginia moan louder.

With a laugh, Tyrell released her and grabbed his shirt, tugging it quickly over his head so he could fasten his jeans. “That’s what I was afraid of. I might as well go speak to Colonel Healy now.”

For a moment, she actually felt a sliver of dread stab through her, worried that her proud, hard father might reject her suitor. “Now?”

“No time like the present. Don’t you worry none, Princess.” Tyrell jammed his hat on his head and took her hand firmly in his. “I know exactly what to say. I won’t let you down. I’ll
never
let you down.”

She didn’t want to admit to worry. Or fear. Or that she just might burst into tears if Daddy refused them. Or if she woke up the next morning and Tyrell’s rusted-out truck was long gone. Instead of voicing her fears, all she said was, “Your mustache tickles.”

Without pausing a step, he threw open the barn door and dragged her toward the house where her parents waited on the front steps. “Want me to shave it off?”

“Don’t you dare.”

Chapter Three

Driving out to the old Connagher place took Jebadiah Garrett back forty years. Once upon a time, he’d been Virginia Healy’s best friend and accomplice in all her scrapes. When she needed someone to help her with something risky and no doubt stupid, she’d known exactly who to call. Most everybody had expected them to get married. Including him. But he’d been dead wrong.

He’d managed to keep the friendship, though. He’d even asked Tyrell Connagher to stand up for him at his own wedding years later. Jeb and Sharon had moved to California and that should have been the end of his unrequited love affair with his best friend. They were both married. Happily. At least, he tried to be happy. Sharon wasn’t Virginia, but she was a good woman. He cared deeply for her and he put all his effort and will into building a life with her far from Texas.

More than a decade passed before Jeb ever heard from Virginia again, when she’d called to tell him her husband had died. Of course he’d dropped everything right away to comfort his grieving friend. Something for which his now ex-wife had never forgiven him.

Jeb slowed his truck to a crawl. He hadn’t seen Virginia since the funeral. He hadn’t even called to check on her all these years. He couldn’t because he’d been too busy trying to save his own marriage in California. But it’d been too late. It’d always been too late. It’d only been his own stubbornness that made him try so hard to stay and do the right thing by his wife.

Now here he was, fifty-seven years old and starting out all over again. No wife. No family. A rented condo. No job.

Well that wasn’t exactly true. He’d owned his own veterinarian practice for years and had finally sold it in the divorce proceedings. Now he had time to do all the things he’d put off because of work or his marriage, and the only thing he could think about was an old flame who didn’t even know she’d burned in his memory all these years.

As he neared the house, he saw her sitting on the porch in a rocking chair. Virginia Healy Connagher, the legend herself. The years had been kind to her. She looked as good as she had twenty years ago and more. Her dark, wavy hair was pulled back at her ears to fall loose and soft at her shoulders, emphasizing her high, angular cheekbones and the dark fire of her eyes. Sure, there was a little gray sprinkled into that hair and some creases around her eyes and mouth as she smiled a pleased welcome, but she looked damned good.

He parked, but before he got out, he reached over and popped open the dash. The small ring box was still there. In some fashion or another, he’d carried it with him for nigh on forty years.

Calling himself a sentimental fool, he shut the dash, slid out of the truck and walked up toward the porch, smiling back but not saying anything. Not yet. What could he say? What would she want to hear? He planted a boot on the bottom step but just leaned against the railing, sucking in her presence. Even injured and fresh out of a hospital bed, she made the air sharper, the colors brighter. She was too alive herself to let anything stagnate around her.

She started to get up, struggling with the sling. “Jebadiah Garrett, you old dog. I bet it’s been ten years or more since I saw you last. What brings you out here?”

He strode up the last few steps and took her hand, hopefully discouraging her from trying to stand. “You.”

She snorted. “You heard about a car accident all the way out in California?”

“I’m not in California any longer.”

She tipped her head back, squinting against the sun to try and read his face. He kept that cheesy grin in place, too happy to see her to worry about looking like an idiot. “Well, why don’t you sit down and tell me about it so I don’t break my fool neck trying to look at you.”

She was still letting him hold her hand, so he sat down right where he was on the top step. “I sold the practice a year ago and moved back here last month.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You did? And you never bothered to stop by and let me know you were back in town?”

He reached up and took his hat off, giving him something to do with his free hand. “I had some things to work out first.”

“Typical man. Act first without taking time to socialize. That’s a mighty fine hat, by the way. Is it a Serratelli?”

“Sure is.” He passed it up to her, although that meant she let go of his hand so she could turn the black fur felt hat around and examine it from all angles. He was ridiculously proud of that hat. It was the first thing he’d bought that was solely and wholly his. The sterling silver band had cost a mint too. Back when he’d been married, Sharon would have had a fit that he’d spent over a thousand dollars on a hat. Let alone where the money had come from.

“It’s almost too pretty to wear. You said
I’m
not in California. Not
we
.”

He looked out across the front yard, not really seeing the parallel lines of trees along the driveway or the white-railed fenced pastures of horses. “No, ma’am. Sharon and I divorced almost a year ago.”

“Oh, Jeb, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’d been over for a long time but we kept going through the motions. It was time for both of us to move on.” He smiled but didn’t turn back to look at her. “She’s already remarried and is quite happy from what I hear.”

“And you?”

He shrugged. “I’m starting over. Moving back here was the first step.”

“Are you going to start a new practice?”

“I might.” He hedged a little, turning back to see her face. “I’ve been helping Cap Winston out here and there, although he’s already hired on a new young man to take over.”

Virginia harrumphed under her breath. “Yeah, he’s been out here a few times to see the stock. Not sure I trust someone so wet behind the ears.”

“He’s young, but he’s good. I’ve seen him work through some pretty sticky situations.”

She nodded. “Well, if you’re going to be helping out, then I’ll definitely call him instead of trying to find a bigger vet out of Dallas.”

The screen door banged open behind them. Catching a glimpse of pink skirts, Jeb jumped to his feet and started backing down the stairs. Virginia’s mother still sometimes popped into his nightmares, not the gun-wielding Marine father he’d dreamed of someday asking for his daughter’s hand.

“You’re just in time for supper, Jebadiah.” Miss Belle flounced over to grab his hand and tug him back on the porch. “Boys, come and help your mama.”

He’d much rather help Virginia inside than escort Miss Belle on his arm, but evidently he didn’t have a choice. She might have been a petite eighty-year-old grandmother but she dragged him right inside as easily as if he were a toddler and not almost two feet taller than her. On their way out to help their mama, her two boys paused long enough to shake Jeb’s hand. He hadn’t seen either of them since the funeral, both big, strapping young men though they couldn’t match him for height. Both of them were successful and well mannered—as if Virginia and Ty would have allowed them to grow up rude or shiftless.
Ty must be beaming with pride at them both.

“So that’s why you insisted we set an extra plate.” Virginia’s only daughter smiled at him. “Welcome, Mr. Garrett. If you need to wash up, come on into the kitchen.”

Sharon hadn’t wanted kids. At the time, he’d regretted the decision, always hungering for the chance to be a father. But after their ugly split, he was relieved they hadn’t had children in the mix, even though they would have been adults by then. He hadn’t expected all of Virginia’s children to be home, but knowing the family, he shouldn’t have been surprised. Of course they’d all rally around her after the accident, even though Conn and Miss Belle lived in Missouri.

They all know me. I’m just an old family friend.

Which was true, but as Jeb washed his hands and prepared to sit down at the Connagher table, he had a feeling he ought to be upfront with at least Virginia’s boys.

How are they going to take the idea of me courting their mama?

Virginia’s sons helped her settle into her chair at the head of the massive table. The girls had outdone themselves. Ham and roast beef with mashed potatoes and creamy mac and cheese, green beans and two kinds of salad. It all smelled and looked appetizing, which confirmed that the young women had done the cooking, not her own mother.

Miss Belle could open a can of green beans and turn it into something even the dog wouldn’t eat.

All her children were laughing and gathering around the table. Victor and his girlfriend sat by Conn and his. On the opposite side of the table, Vicki sat between her two men, Jesse and Elias. There were two open seats remaining: the opposite head of the table and the one immediately to her right. Staring down at the far end, her throat suddenly clogged with emotion. Ty’s seat. How he’d love to come tromping in from the fields, plop his filthy, dusty butt into his chair and grin down at everyone gathered around his table. Airs and pretense hadn’t been his way. He’d have washed his hands, sure, but his old boots would have been caked with mud and God knows what else, his jeans faded and stained, his shirt streaked with sweat and dirt, and he wouldn’t have cared.

A big hand touched her right arm, startling her. She turned her face up, surprised to see concern on Jeb’s face. “Are you all right, Ginny?”

“Fine,” she muttered, grabbing the sling with her right hand to adjust her injured arm, pretending it was paining her and not her lonely heart.

He moved around to her other side and adjusted the pillow they’d used against the arm of the chair to provide support. “Better?”

“Yes, thank you.” She glanced down the table and noticed everyone staring at her. “What?”

“I’ve never heard anyone call you Ginny before.” Vicki had a speculative look on her face that instantly sent Virginia’s hackles up.

“Of course you haven’t,” she said tartly. “You weren’t in school with me about forty years ago. Everyone knew me as Ginny growing up.”

“You went to school with Mr. Garrett?”

“Jeb,” he said in a low agreeable voice. “She sure did, though I was a year ahead.”

“Did you ever date?”

“Beulah Virginia Connagher, that’s none of your business,” Virginia retorted, trying to put a halt to this conversation with the lowest blow she could manage in front of company. Vicki hated her real name. “But no, we never dated.”

“Not for trying,” Jeb replied again in that agreeable voice.

Stunned, she couldn’t even muster a glare. He’d never tried to date her. Sure, they’d been friends her whole childhood. Everybody had assumed they were an item. But they’d never ever actually dated. “We.
Never.
Dated.”

There’d been that one time…but that hadn’t been a date. And she’d put the whole nightmare incident out of her mind. Evidently he hadn’t.

Despite the ice in her voice, he merely smiled. Well,
mere
wasn’t the appropriate word. When he smiled, his whole face crinkled up, deep lines around his eyes and mouth that said he was a man who’d smiled often through the years. His mustache wasn’t as big as Ty’s had always been and he wore a neatly trimmed goatee that framed his mouth, making his amusement and pleasure all the more obvious.

“You see,” he continued, “The Garretts and Healys were friends from the beginning, so I was always escorting Ginny to various dances and parties, along with our parents of course. I almost asked her before I left for college, but I wanted to have my degree and be settled into a practice before I committed anything, so I waited until she got back from a yearlong trip to Ireland. Meanwhile, Tyrell moved into town, started working as a farm hand at the Healys’, and the next time I came home, I realized it was too late. I’d waited too damned long, and he’d won her hand before I could even ask.”

She wasn’t surprised that Conn’s romantic heart had been snagged by the tale, a bemused smile on his face. But even her hard son, Victor, seemed interested in hearing more about his mother’s nonexistent love life. “That’s not how it went at all.”

“We all managed to stay friends, though.” Jeb went on as though she hadn’t said a word. “Ty had a way about him that wouldn’t let people hold grudges. We even went out on a double date together years later, me with Sharon—my ex—and Ty and Ginny. So in that regard, we did date.”

“Why don’t we say grace?” Virginia tried to change the subject, uncomfortable in a way that surprised her. She’d known Jeb had fancied her all those years ago. How hard had it been for him to see her married to someone else? For them to go out on a double date? She’d already been married by then, but he’d asked her to accompany him and Sharon as if he needed her approval of his bride first.

Had he really pined for her? Surely not. The man had been married to the same woman for at least twenty, twenty-five years.

Everyone reached out their hands. Which meant she had to slip her right hand into Jeb’s big palm, while her son gently laid his hand over her left hand in the cast. She hadn’t held a man’s hand in a coon’s age, even for something as innocent as prayer. His fingers were strong, gripping her firmly as though she might try to yank her hand away and he wanted to hold on. It brought out latent urges in her. She wanted to clamp her hand harder around his, to punish those fingers for touching her before she’d given explicit permission. Only so she could invite his touch again.

Conn began the prayer before Victor could, which made her want to curse in a most un-Christian-like way. Dr. English Professor went on and on, leaving her hand pressed against Jeb’s for far too long. Long enough that the shared heat made her palm sweat just a little. The promise of so much more.

The rattle of silverware made her jerk back to attention. Jeb tightened his fingers even more, keeping her hand pressed to his. She met his gaze and then couldn’t look away. Molten dark chocolate eyes locked onto hers, narrowed with intense concentration. It was like he was silently trying to tell her something. No, yelling at her, without saying a word, demanding some reaction from her.

He’d moved her. The fact shook her to her core. No man had ever moved her except Ty.

That’s a lie.

A lie I can’t face.