Always a McBride (21 page)

No! she wanted to cry. Don't go!

But she couldn't stop him from leaving or stop herself from hurting. She'd set herself up for pain the second she let herself love him. There was no turning back
the clock now. All she could do was learn to manage the pain, starting now.

It wasn't easy. Where she got the strength to face him she didn't know, but when she returned to the kitchen, her eyes were, thankfully, dry. “Here you go,” she said quietly, and handed him the itemized bill.

Hardly sparing it a glance, he paid with a credit card, and within a matter of moments, the transaction was complete. When he hesitated after she handed him his copy of the receipt, she thought he might have changed his mind. His eyes met hers, her heart jumped, and she found herself holding her breath, waiting for him to say something…
anything
…that would make it possible for her to forgive him.

But he only growled, “I guess I'd better get going. Take care of yourself.”

His face carved in somber lines, he grabbed his suitcase, which she hadn't noticed sitting by the refrigerator, and strode out without once looking back. Her worst fears realized, Phoebe couldn't have said how long she stood there, staring after him with her heart in her eyes. It seemed like an eternity. She tried to convince herself that any second now, he would change his mind and come back. He didn't.

When she started to cry, she couldn't have said. Suddenly, tears were running down her face. She didn't even try to stop them—there was no longer any reason to. Taylor was gone.

 

Standing on Myrtle's wide front porch, Janey McBride knocked sharply on the front door and told herself there was no reason to be nervous. She'd just come there to talk to her brother. Surely Taylor wouldn't re
fuse to speak to her. She was his sister. They had a lot of catching up to do.

The problem was…she didn't have a clue where to begin. What did you say to a brother you'd never known existed until yesterday?
Hi, you look like Dad?
She didn't think that would be a very good idea. According to Joe, Taylor was full of anger, and she couldn't say she blamed him. He'd never had a relationship with their father, never played catch with him or been tucked into bed by him when he was a little boy. Even though he now knew who his father was, he still didn't know the color of his eyes, the shape of his face, the sound of his voice…and he never would. No wonder he was angry. She would be, too.

Lifting her hand to knock again, she frowned. Where was Phoebe? She usually didn't take so long to answer. Granted, it was early yet, and the mornings were the busiest part of the day at a bed and breakfast. Maybe she should have called first….

Lost in her thoughts, she didn't see Phoebe through the frosted half glass of the front door until she heard the dead bolt turn. Relieved, she smiled. “There you are—”

Whatever she was going to say next vanished at the sight of Phoebe's red-rimmed eyes as she pulled the door open just a crack. “Phoebe?” she gasped. “My God, what's wrong? Are you all right? What happened?”

“Nothing.”

“Don't be ridiculous,” Janey scolded, pushing her way inside. “You've been crying your eyes out. Why? It's not Myrtle, is it?” she asked in alarm. “Nothing's happened to her, has it?”

Wiping her eyes with a tissue she pulled from her
pocket, Phoebe shook her head and sniffed, “She's fine, as far as I know. I'm just sad.”

Janey didn't have to ask about what—suddenly, she knew. Glancing past her, she looked up the stairs. “Where's Taylor? I know it's early, but I need to talk to him.”

It was a simple request, but suddenly Phoebe's eyes were swimming. Her heart aching for her, Janey slipped an arm around her shoulders. “What is it, Phoeb? Did you and Taylor have a fight? Is that why you've been crying?”

Miserably, Phoebe nodded. “I'm sorry I'm being such a baby, but the last twenty-four hours have been very emotional. I still can't believe he lied to me the way he did. I told him what I thought of him last night and was going to ask him to leave this morning, but he didn't give me the chance. Before I could say anything, he told me he thought it would be better if he left.”

Surprised, Janey said, “He's gone back to San Diego?”

“I don't know,” she said huskily. “He just paid his bill and left. He didn't say where he was going.” When Janey looked stricken, she frowned in confusion. “Why do you want to talk to him? He lied to you, too. I didn't think you would want anything to do with him.”

Throughout the night, Janey had asked herself the same thing, and time and again, the answer had always been the same. “We share the same blood,” she said simply. “That makes him family.”

“But how do you know he's telling the truth?” she argued. “We only have his word that his mother wrote that letter that names Gus his father. What if this is all just a scam to get his hands on the ranch? It happens,
you know. Scam artists impersonate people all the time.”

“But he hasn't asked for anything,” Janey pointed out. “He just wanted us to know who he was.”

“That's all he appears to want now. He's a lawyer, Janey. If he decides he wants part of the ranch, trust me, he'll find a way to get it.”

“But that's just it,” Janey said with a frown, “I don't think he wants the ranch. He wants family.”

“Then why didn't he say who he was from the beginning? If you want people to accept you and give you a chance, you don't start the relationship by lying.”

“You and I wouldn't,” Janey replied, “but we grew up knowing who our fathers were. Taylor didn't. Don't get me wrong,” she added quickly. “I'm not excusing what he did. He should have been up-front and honest. But he had no reason to trust us with who he was. For all he knew, we would have slammed the door in his face. He was just doing what he thought he had to do to find out who his family was, and I can't condemn him for that. If our circumstances had been reversed, I might have done the same thing.”

Put that way, Phoebe found herself wishing she hadn't been so quick to judge him. He'd wanted to talk, to explain himself, and she hadn't let him. And now it was too late. He was gone, and even though she had his home phone number from his registration card, she couldn't call him. Not after he'd walked away so easily. If he'd cared about her at all, he wouldn't have left without insisting that she at least listen to him.

 

Glancing in his rearview mirror, Taylor watched Liberty Hill grow smaller and smaller and knew he'd done the right thing by leaving. Bruised feelings needed time
to heal, and they could heal a lot faster if he wasn't underfoot to remind everyone of his lies.

Knowing what was right and doing it, however, were two different things. Leaving Phoebe had turned out to be the hardest thing he'd ever done. He'd wanted to grab her and hold her close and make her listen to him, but she hadn't been in the mood to hear anything he'd had to say. So he'd left and he'd been fighting the need to turn around and go back to her ever since.

But she thought the worst of him, and that tore him apart. Granted, he hadn't handled the situation well, but dammit, he wasn't the monster she thought he was. He wasn't vindictive—he'd never deliberately hurt anyone in his life. From the moment he'd found out who his father was, every move he'd made had been about Gus. He'd told Sara the truth about him for one reason and one reason only—because he couldn't let Gus continue to enjoy a sterling posthumous reputation when he considered him to be nothing but a deadbeat dad. He was just sorry that in the process of learning the truth, Sara and his brothers and sisters were hurt.

But if they hated his guts for that and wanted nothing to do with him in the future, he'd find a way to accept it. Phoebe, however, was another matter. How long had he been looking for her without even knowing it? Now that he'd finally found her, he wouldn't, couldn't, lose her.

He'd never considered himself an impatient man, but at that moment, it took all his self-control not to turn around and race back to her. He wouldn't do either one of them any good if he pushed her now, he told himself grimly. She needed space, and he was giving it to her. He wasn't, however, going very far…just to Colorado Springs. There, he'd find a room and wait. Once Phoebe
had had a chance to calm down and cool off, he would ask for her forgiveness. He hoped she didn't make him wait long.

 

Finding a room wasn't difficult. Waiting was. In the silence of his empty hotel room, his thoughts drifted again and again to Phoebe. Did she miss him yet? Was the house quiet without him? Was she wondering where he was?

Before he could stop to think, he picked up the phone to call her, only to slam it back down again. No, dammit! He wasn't calling her! Pressuring her now, when she was still so upset, would be nothing but a mistake. Her hurt was too fresh, her anger too strong. She'd say something she didn't mean and put him on the defensive, and he'd end up losing her.

He wasn't letting that happen, he promised himself grimly. He had work to do. If he had to tie himself to his computer, then so be it. He wasn't calling her!

Setting up his laptop at the small table in the corner, he opened up the file on an upcoming case and proceeded to spend the rest of the day working. Phoebe, however, didn't make it easy for him. She slipped into his thoughts whenever he dropped his guard, and time and time again, he found himself staring out the window, remembering the feel of her in his arms. Frustrated, he dragged his attention back to his work and once again concentrated on the brief he was writing…until she drifted into his thoughts again. The day was one of the longest of his life. He worked through lunch and dinner, and didn't make nearly as much progress as he'd have liked. By the time he turned off his computer later that evening, a headache throbbed at his temple like a jackhammer. He turned on the TV for
noise, only to grimace at the romantic comedy with Meg Ryan playing on one of the cable stations. Frowning, he switched to the local news.

A pretty blue-eyed news anchor looked into the camera and said somberly, “The federal government announced today that it plans to enlarge the Liberty Hill National Wildlife Refuge by purchasing thousands of acres of surrounding ranchland from private ranchers in the area. The refuge currently comprises fifty thousand acres and will double in size by the end of the year. Now, on to sports…”

A fresh-faced sportscaster who looked as if he couldn't have been a day over eighteen rattled off the latest national league baseball scores, but Taylor hardly heard him. Instead, the previous story echoed again and again in his head.
The federal government announced today that it plans to enlarge the Liberty Hill National Wildlife Refuge…

What the hell was that about? he wondered with a scowl. The story itself sounded innocent enough, but Taylor had fought the government before, and he knew how they operated. If the current administration, which favored big business over conservation, was after land, it wasn't because the government wanted to protect the environment and animals in the area. They were after something else, and they'd stop at nothing to get it.

And the McBride ranch was right in their way.

Whatever's going on, it's none of your business,
his common sense growled.
Stay out of it.

He should have. It would have been the smart thing to do. His name was mud with the McBrides, and Joe had made it clear that the ranch was theirs. They wouldn't appreciate him giving an opinion when it wasn't asked for.

He knew that, accepted it, and reached for the phone anyway. The second Joe came on the line, he said, “This is Taylor. I need to talk to you—”

“Tough,” he growled. “I'm not interested in anything you have to say. Goodbye.”

“Wait, dammit! I saw the news. What have you got on the ranch that the government wants? And don't tell me nothing,” he snapped. “I'm not an idiot. Washington wouldn't be going to this much expense for nothing.”

Hesitating, Joe almost told Taylor he was imagining things and hung up on him. After all the trouble he'd caused, it was no more than he deserved. But they were in a hell of a mess with the government, and he shouldn't have been surprised that Taylor had been able to read between the lines of the government's announcement. He'd been impressed with his shrewdness from the first moment he'd met him—and until he'd claimed to be his father's illegitimate son, he'd trusted him. Part of him still wanted to. And he was a lawyer. Maybe he could help.

“We had a geologist come out to the ranch a couple of months ago,” he said stiffly. “He found oil.”

Taylor swore softly. “I knew it! Where is it?”

“Near the western boundary of the ranch.”

“Close to the wilderness area,” Taylor said. “Why am I not surprised? When you wouldn't sell out, one of the brainiacs in Washington decided it was time to enlarge the public lands in the area, didn't he? Dammit to hell!”

“My sentiments exactly,” Joe said dryly. “We've been told that if we don't sell, the feds will harass us until we do. I've heard stories—”

“They're not just stories,” he warned him. “The
government doesn't always play fair, Joe. If you don't want to lose the ranch, I suggest you get a good attorney. Before this is over with, you're going to need one.”

“Are you volunteering for the job?”

Taylor hadn't called him for that reason, but now that Joe had brought the subject up, he was glad that he had. “As a matter of fact, I am. In spite of what you may think of me, I'm an excellent attorney. I've taken on the government before and won, and I can do it again.”

“And you'd do that for us? I thought you hated us.”

“I don't hate you,” he said honestly, “though I can see why you might think that. I never had any animosity toward any of you. I certainly don't want you to lose the ranch…or sell it. It may not be part of my heritage, but it was yours and Zeke's and the girls'—not the government's. If I can keep them from taking it from you, I will.”