Texas Dad (Fatherhood) (6 page)

Only after Mack tightened his hold on her waist and abruptly stepped away from her did J.J. realize her glass had tipped over, spilling the wine onto the swing. Her pleasure diminished when she saw the pain and regret in Mack’s eyes, at odds with his unfair accusation when he said, “Stop. Stop being so tempting, dammit!” He frowned and added, “You can’t turn back the clock. Don’t even try, Jill.” Wheeling, he strode toward the open door.

“Me?” she sputtered. “
You
kissed
me,
you jerk!”

His door slammed shut and sent a jolt to her toes. She lost track of how long she stood in a puddle of moonlight before she collected her empty glass, listening to crickets chirp—three fingers pressed against her lips as she tried desperately to hang on to Mack’s kiss.

Chapter Five

Mack sat on his bed and cradled his head in his hands. Kissing Jill had been stupid, stupid, stupid. Seeing her on his patio in the moonlight had made the years dissolve. Once, their love had been strong. Her abrupt departure had stunted his capacity to trust—trust his ability to make sound judgments when it came to love and women. He should have refused when Erma wanted her to stay. From the moment he saw her at that table in the library, his life had teetered like a seesaw.

Maybe Erma had been right. Maybe he needed a woman in his bed—in his life. But not Jill. Her very presence sparked too many painful memories. It was a good thing he was leaving early in the morning. It’d give him a couple of days to get his head on straight enough that he could be in the same room as Jill without fighting the urge to kiss her.

* * *

T
HE
REST
OF
the night proved to be restless for J.J. Afraid she would miss hearing Erma should she call, or not call because she didn’t want to be a bother, J.J. tiptoed into the housekeeper’s room at midnight and again at 2:00 a.m. Both times she found Erma sleeping without a twitch. J.J. was glad to see she was breathing regularly and showed no signs of pain. Regardless, each time she returned to her room J.J. tossed and turned or stared at the ceiling, wide-awake— reliving that sizzling kiss.

Shortly before four she managed to drift off but awoke to a strident buzzing that seemed to come from outside. Distantly she heard Erma calling her. Because she hadn’t fully undressed for bed J.J. simply yanked on her boots and raced across the patio. Her heart hammered. What if Erma had fallen again?

“My alarm is going off and I can’t reach it.” Erma waved an arm toward a nightstand on the other side of her bed. It was still dark outside, and she’d switched on a bedside lamp.

J.J. hit a few buttons on the clock before one finally silenced the noise.

Erma attempted to sit up. “It’s time I started breakfast for Mack and the hands.” She’d barely finished her statement than she fell back on the pillow with a groan. “Those danged pills are messing with my old bones. The doctor said to take the pills exactly as directed on the bottle. All they do is make me worthless.”

J.J. eased Erma into a sitting position. “Does this hurt?”

Erma nodded. “Maybe not as much as yesterday. Will you help me hop into the bathroom?”

“Hopping will jar your hip. The wheelchair’s at the end of your bed. Let me wheel you in. I’ll dampen a washcloth with warm water and get you a towel, then go start coffee before I come back for you. A sponge bath should help you feel more human. Mack said the doctor wants you to rest, but I wonder if those pills are too potent. After breakfast let’s call and ask if you can reduce the dose.”

Erma nodded. She slid out of bed and stood on her good leg, but the minute she touched her right foot to the floor, her leg buckled and she cried out in pain.

J.J. grabbed her and braced her so she didn’t fall, then moved the wheelchair into place.

“What kind of pain pills only work when I lie down?” Erma complained.

“Injured muscle and bones don’t heal overnight.” J.J. got the older woman into the chair and wheeled her into the bath. “Are you steady enough for me to leave you alone for a few minutes?” she asked after she wet a washcloth.

Erma made shooing motions with the hand not holding the cloth she’d accepted. “Did I dream it, or did Mack say they’re trailing the herd to Monument Draw today? If so, he and the men need a hearty breakfast, plus extra biscuits to take along. And canned beans.”

“According to Zoey the men eat a lot of eggs every morning. I hope they like them scrambled, because mine always turn out that way.”

“That crew scarfs ’em down any way I cook ’em. Benny and Eldon pour an inch of salsa over everything on their plates, anyway.” Erma snickered. J.J. responded with a smile, feeling better about leaving Erma to her own devices while she went to brew coffee.

J.J. shuffled into the kitchen. Thankfully she remembered where the coffee was stored. Feeling sluggish after her own sketchy sleep, she made the coffee stronger than the previous evening’s.

Yawning, she emptied the dishwasher and quickly set the table. The smell of fresh coffee made her mouth water. She turned from the table to pour a cup for herself and Erma, and ran right into Mack, who was backing out of the pantry. He held two loaves of store-bought bread in one hand. The other he put out to steady J.J.

She blinked, partly from the force of the impact, partly due to how he looked. Today he wore snug, scruffy blue jeans rucked up over black, square-toed boots. His blue shirt hung open, giving her a peek at his suntanned chest. J.J. swallowed. Mack hadn’t shaved and the rough-hewn cowboy look had never been more appealing. Trying to calm her racing heart, she couldn’t help hoping his unkempt appearance was because he’d spent as sleepless a night as she had after their kiss.

“What are you doing up so early? I figured you’d sleep in.”

“Why? Because someone kept me up late...hmm?”

“Uh, Jill, about last night...” Looking abashed, Mack cleared his throat.

Still stung from the way he’d hightailed it after kissing her the way he had, J.J. hunched, and stepped around him. “Last night was moon madness. Forget it, Mack. I have.”

Seeming relieved, he surveyed the kitchen. “Where’s Erma?”

“In the bathroom. Her alarm woke us both at four.” Taking two ceramic mugs off the counter, J.J. stopped by the percolating coffeemaker. “I’ll bring some coffee to her and see if that chases away her cobwebs. Those pain pills wipe her out. Out of curiosity...what are you doing with the bread? Erma said you’d want eggs and biscuits, with extra to take on your trip.”

“I thought we’d have toast and eggs. Unless you’re offering to whip up biscuits?” he said with a hopeful lilt.

“You mean biscuits that aren’t as dry as my meat loaf?” J.J. couldn’t help her cutting tone. Even if incompetent was the last way she wanted him to think of her.

Mack watched Jill pour liberal amounts of cream and sugar in her coffee. It made him smile in spite of himself. Really, very little seemed to have changed about Jill—except she’d grown even prettier. As she rested the spoon on the counter and picked up both mugs, he was struck by how right it felt to see her in his kitchen. But sudden anguish washed over him. Again he wondered why she’d taken off all those years ago with no explanation. The last time they had spoken, he’d dropped out of college to run the ranch, and he’d assumed they’d make a life together.
Was this current show of compassion all for her magazine?

He still hadn’t read what Zoey had written about him. He thought about her babbling outside the library. What had she said about getting picked? That someone—a woman—would deliver a check for his charity? And she kept mentioning a date. That part ran together with someone saying she looked like a boy. Mack frowned, unable to connect that. With Zoey’s button nose, scattered freckles and pretty rust-colored braids, she looked like a girl to him.

“Jill,” he blurted, catching her a moment before she headed back to Erma’s room, “How does Zoey strike you?”

His question stopped her. “From the little time I spent with her, she seems like a sweet, polite kid. Why?”

“No special reason. It used to be that whenever she wasn’t at school she was my shadow.” A smile briefly played across his lips. “This past year she’s shown less interest in what’s happening around the ranch. She mopes around inside a lot.”

J.J. juggled the hot mugs and debated how much to involve herself in Mack’s and his daughter’s lives. She considered saying nothing, but would he have asked her advice if he wasn’t bewildered? And her being here had come about because Zoey was concerned for her dad’s happiness, and her own future. J.J. decided to offer an opinion. “Mack, Zoey’s almost a teen. For a girl, that transition’s comparable to a caterpillar becoming a butterfly.”

“Huh?” Mack set the loaves of bread on the counter and ran a hand over his stubbled jaw. “You mean...like growing pains? I had those as a boy.” He buttoned his shirt and tucked it in his jeans.

She pursed her lips. “I don’t know about growing boys, but the teenage years can be awkward for a girl who sees changes in her friends and not in herself.”

“You, uh, mean like getting, uh, breasts?” Mack gestured with his hands, but his face turned red.

J.J. found his discomfort endearing. “There may be some anxiety about that, yeah, but by and large with girls it’s more emotional. Some navigate this stage easier than others. Excuse me, Mack, maybe we can talk about this later. I need to help Erma.” J.J. left him looking perplexed, and hoped she hadn’t muddied the waters too badly. But she knew that she wasn’t the right person to help Zoey Bannerman get her heart’s desire—a mother. Lordy, now that she’d opened her mouth, she might be stuck trying to tell Mack that he needed to find a wife.
Impossible!

She might have been able to let go of the past—if Mack hadn’t kissed her last night. It clearly hadn’t affected him the way it did her. For J.J. the kiss had brought back their shared dreams. Coming here, spending the day in Mack’s home, had dredged up memories of a time she’d valued. He’d probably been bombarded with guilt over what he’d done.

She thought she’d convinced herself that her career was enough—that she didn’t need a man to fulfill her. Kissing Mack had caused doubts. So, the minute he returned from moving his cattle, she’d take the required photographs and get out of here. Get away from Mack.

“Erma, I brought coffee,” she sang out, forcing herself to sound lighthearted. “I hope you still like yours with a splash of cream.”

“I can’t believe you’d remember such a trivial thing about me, considering how long ago you took off to make your mark on the world.” Erma, in her wheelchair, accepted the mug. Her observation came with a raised eyebrow that J.J. sensed was a request for an explanation. Erma wanted to know why she’d flown from Texas, but J.J. didn’t feel she ought to talk about it. If Mack hadn’t explained their breakup, why should she?

Erma doted on Mack. So if he’d kept her in the dark about his deceitful ways, J.J. wasn’t about to enlighten her. “Photographers pay attention to detail,” she said, glossing over Erma’s veiled question. “I’ll put our mugs here and find you some clothes. What would you like?”

“It’s supposed to be hot again. I have lightweight gray sweatpants in my top dresser drawer. They’ll be loose on my bad hip. There should be a T-shirt in the closet.”

“Sounds good.”

They spent the next several minutes trading Erma’s nightwear for sweats.

“Wow, your bruises are even more colorful today,” J.J. said, taking care when she slid the sweatpants over Erma’s hips.

“Moving hurts like the devil. Up to now I’ve never been sick a day in my life.”

“You’re not sick, which is why you’re so impatient.” J.J. found it easier to help Erma into a roomy red T-shirt. “Where’s your brush? A big plus is that your hair is naturally curly.”

“Thank the Lord for small favors.” She opened a drawer in the bathroom vanity and swept a brush through her iron-gray hair a few times. “I feel better, thanks to you, Jill.” Erma reached for her coffee. “A few more swallows of this and I can help out with breakfast.”

“Get a good grip on your mug before I wheel you to the kitchen. Mack’s already there. He intends to serve Benny and the guys toast and eggs. After my meat loaf, I think he’s afraid I’d make hockey-puck biscuits. I’d never admit it to him, Erma, but between us, I’ve only ever baked biscuits that come from a can.”

“Stick with me, girl. You’ll be a ranch cook in no time,” Erma said as they rounded the corner.

“Jill’s not going to be here that long.” Mack rose from where he knelt pouring kibble in Jiggs’s bowl. The dog rushed in to eat. “You look cheerier today, Erma,” Mack said. “I hope you feel better.”

She made a face at him. “The pain is tolerable. Even so, don’t you be running Jill off. I’ve been telling you that you need someone just like her—a woman with vigor and vitality.”

J.J. hushed Erma by suddenly sliding a breadboard across the arms of her wheelchair. “Tell me what you need for biscuits. I’ll set you up, then fire up the griddle and scramble some eggs. Will Zoey be down soon?” J.J. asked Mack. “If so, maybe she can pour everyone orange juice.”

“Lately Zoey’s not an early bird,” he said. “I’ll pour the juice. What about fruit, Erma? Do we have any to put out?”

“There’s canned peaches and pears in the pantry. Open whichever you want. And get out black beans to go along with leftover biscuits for your ride.” Bending to the side, Erma winced, but still retrieved a bowl from a lower cabinet, along with cookie sheets. She handed both to J.J., who rushed to assist her.

“So, you’re going on horseback?” J.J. was surprised. “I assumed you’d drive.”

“That’s city-girl thinking,” he said with a wink at Erma. Turning back to J.J., he asked, “Have you even seen a horse since you left Texas, let alone ridden one?”

“I have.” J.J. frowned in indignation, then shrugged. “Okay, rarely. I rode in Italy and a couple of times on other remote shoots.” She passed Erma the ingredients she requested, and a fork to stir with.

“Hmm, we may have to cancel having you take pictures of me with the herd,” Mack said, pausing as he dumped pears into a bowl. “I thought once the cattle were calm, you and I could ride out to the draw and back in one day. But if you haven’t ridden in a while, you’d end up too saddle-sore to sit for a cross-country flight.”

“Don’t sell me short,” J.J. said, further irritated because the sight of his large hands around the can made her insides squirm. “Magazine photography isn’t all glamour. I’ve trekked into some wild and woolly spots, and I always carry my own equipment.”

“Touchy, I see,” Mack drawled.

“You’re darned tootin’.” She tossed back some of the Texas lingo she hadn’t fully lost. “I’m no hothouse flower, Mack. If I wasn’t needed here today, I’d ride along and photograph your whole trail ride. And I wouldn’t need special privileges.”

“If it bothers you to stay behind with Zoey and Erma,” he snapped, “I’ll leave the guys to calm the herd and ride back here this afternoon.”