Can't Stop Loving You (22 page)

Ty laughed. “If I remember right, you tossed a few of your own cookies doing it.”

“Damn straight. Recycled Jim Beam is rank.”

Cash picked up the deck. “How many?”

Ty tossed two cards onto the table. “A pair.”

Cash dealt him two. “Brawley?”

He discarded three, and Cash gave him a trio. After another look at his own, he replaced two.

“How about the time Maggie followed us to the pond behind your grandpa's, Cash?” Ty grinned. “You threw that snake in the water with her.”

“I think that's why she learned to shoot. Always figured she'd plug me with the first bullet, the snake with the second. As it was, she gave me one hell of a shiner.”

Ty nodded. “That girl turned into a monster when she got mad.”

“Still does,” Brawley said.

“You should know.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.”

A knock sounded at the door, and the guys looked at each other.

“You invite anybody else?”

“Nope.”

Another knock at the door had Brawley tossing his cards on the table. When he scraped back his chair, Staubach leaped to his feet, wanting to be part of the welcoming committee. Marvin yipped and darted across the room to join them.

“What am I? The zoo keeper?”

Brawley had hung a blind over the door's window to give himself some privacy, but it kept him from seeing who was outside.

“I'm gonna grab another beer,” Ty said.

“Get one for me, too,” Cash said.

“Make it three. Then toss that pizza in the oven.” Brawley threw open the door, then simply stood there, hand on the knob.

“Are you going to invite me in?”

Behind him, he could feel Ty and Cash studying the new arrival. Staubach licked their guest's hand, and she drew back, a look of disgust on her face.

Cash snapped his fingers and pointed at the floor. Both dogs reluctantly lay down.

“Rachel.” Brawley blinked, but couldn't for the life of him think what to say. She'd called. He'd told her not to come.

Then he spotted her overnight case.

Oh, boy. This was so not happening.

Ty closed the fridge door and cleared his throat. “We can go, bro, if you want—”

“No. The lady's not staying.”

Rachel made a small indignant squeak. “I drove all the way from Dallas.”

“And I'm sure your car will make the drive back just fine.”

Cash stood. “Maybe this is a conversation you should have in private.”

“I know you,” Rachel said. “We met at the Then and Now fund-raiser.”

“Yes, we did.”

“You were with Annelise Montjoy.”

“Annelise Hardeman now.”

“I know.” She glowed. “I saw your wedding pictures in all the magazines.”

Cash's face took on a pained expression. Brawley knew he had yet to get comfortable with his wife's celebrity status.

Brawley threw his pal a heated look. “You and Ty stay right where you are.” He turned back to his uninvited guest. “Let's take this outside.”

She pouted but stepped back.

Joining her on the landing, he closed the door behind him. He could only imagine the conversation between his friends inside.

“I miss you.” She stepped closer and laid a hand on his chest.

“Oh, God.” He ran his fingers through his hair. He hated this. Why did women have to push? When a relationship ended, it ended.

Then he thought of Maggie. Was that how she felt about him? That he was trying to breathe life into a dead affair?

That was different. Their relationship hadn't actually ended.

“Brawley?”

He snapped back to the present problem. Damn, dressed in white leggings and a skinny little top, Rachel looked good. A man would have to be dead not to notice her. But she had no depth. She'd never be Maggie.

“Why are you here?”

“I told you. I miss you.” Her hand ran up the front of his shirt. “I called.”

“Yes, you did, and I told you not to come. We're done, Rachel. I'm sorry.” He laid a hand on her shoulder and was shocked to see tears.

Real? he wondered. Or good acting?

“You mean that, don't you?”

“Yes.”

“Can I spend the night with you?”

He shook his head.

She reached up, traced a finger along his ear.

Brawley jerked his head away. “Stop that.”

“You can't really expect me to drive all the way back to Dallas tonight.” Temper replaced her tears.

He sighed and raked his hair again. No, he couldn't send her down the road. Not this late. But by damn, she wasn't sleeping here. Glancing down the stairs, he made up his mind. As much as he hated to do it, he couldn't think of any other solution. “Come with me.”

He picked up her case and headed down the steps. “My landlady has an extra room. I'm sure she won't mind if you use it tonight.”

“Your landlady?”

“You met her in Dallas.”

“The older woman with Annie?”

“Yep.”

“But—”

Pops answered the quick rap on Dottie's door. “Hey, Brawley. I almost talked Dottie into letting me join you upstairs tonight.”

“You're more than welcome. I told you that.”

“Yeah, I know, but
we've
decided to watch one of her favorite movies.
Doctor Zhivago
.” He rolled his eyes, then caught sight of Rachel, who'd made her way slowly down the stairs and now stood behind Brawley. “Who's this?”

Dottie peeked around the living room doorway. “Hey, Brawley.” Then she saw Rachel. “Oh, I thought tonight was poker night with the boys.”

“It is.” He shifted, scuffed his foot on her welcome mat. “Dottie, this is Rachel Morgan. You met her in Dallas.”

“Oh, yes.” Dottie smiled. “Come in, Rachel. Brawley, what's wrong with you keeping her standing outside?” She tucked her arm through her husband's. “Rachel, have you met Fletch?”

Looking more than a little stunned, Rachel shook her head.

Fletch held out a hand. “Fletcher Sullivan. Come on in. Both of you.”

Rachel shook his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“I have a huge favor to ask,” Brawley said.

“Wait.” Rachel turned to him and whispered, “I can get a hotel room. I don't want to bother them.”

“No rooms for a long way, Rach. I think this is your best bet for tonight.” He raised his voice. “Dottie, Fletch, do you think you could put Rachel up for tonight?”

Dottie blinked, and Fletch's eyes narrowed.

“Certainly,” Dottie said. “The spare room's all freshened up. I did it right after the kids left, when we came back from Austin.”

“Personally, I'd be glad to have her.” Fletch met Brawley's gaze. “Seeing how you've only got one bed upstairs and all. Pretty hard to have overnight company, right, boy?”

Brawley stared Maggie's grandpa down. “Message received loud and clear, and you're right. A hundred percent.”

“Well, then, Fletch, why don't you take the girl's suitcase back to the extra room?” Dottie nudged her husband.

“Yep.”

“Have you had dinner?” Dottie asked.

“Yes. Yes, I have.”

Dottie tipped her head at Brawley. “When you're done saying whatever it is needs said, you come on into the living room, Rachel. We've got cookies and coffee to go with our movie.” With that she drifted into the front room.

“Good night, Rachel. Have a safe trip back.” He opened the door and stepped outside.

“Wait.” She followed him out. “I'm sorry, Brawley. I didn't come to cause you any problems. I think you underestimate yourself. You're a good person, and I'm not sure I appreciated you enough.” She laid a hand on his cheek. “There's more to me than my role as a Dallas Cowboy cheerleader.”

“I know that.”

“Do you?” Her eyes searched his face. “I wonder. I'm not sure I ever really showed you the real me. I was too busy being the sexy, empty-headed cheerleader I thought you wanted.” She stepped back into the house. Putting a hand on the door, she started to close it. “I wish you well.”

He stared at the closed door, then watched through the window as she joined Dottie and Fletch in the living room. And he felt like a heel. He just couldn't seem to get it right.

“You're sure you don't want to come to Maggie's show?” Cash asked.

Brawley sighed. “We've been through this before.”

“Doc will take care of the clinic.”

“Have you been talking to him?”

“What? No! But I'm sure he wouldn't mind.” Cash ran a hand over his chin.

“I'm sure he wouldn't, either. He's offered a dozen times this past week,” Brawley admitted.

“You need to think about it,” Ty said.

“I have.”

He walked outside with his friends and stood at the end of the drive as they headed home to their wives. He thought about Rachel tucked away in Dottie's spare room. All in all, that had turned out better than it should have. He'd expected Rachel to make more of a fuss. Maybe he
had
underestimated her. She wasn't for him, though, and he wasn't for her. He'd never make her happy, not in the long run.

While he climbed the stairs, he resolved to make a change. He'd been on idle way too many years, and it was past time to take charge of his life. If he wanted Maggie in it—and he did—he'd better man up and do what needed to be done.

Back inside, he locked the door behind him in case Rachel decided to pay a late-night visit. He tossed beer bottles into the recycling bin, broke down the pizza boxes and added those, then mopped up the crumbs and water rings from the table. He dumped the dirty plates and silverware into the dishwasher. Marvin trotted right along beside him, his nails clicking on the aged linoleum.

Finished with his tidying, he picked up the remote and turned the TV station to ESPN. Two sportscasters argued over the value of pinch hitters.

The overhead kitchen light glared in his eyes, and he flipped it off. A lamp beside the sofa shed a soft glow over the small apartment. Flopping onto the leather sofa, he jammed a throw pillow under his head, then covered his face with his hand.

The sofa cushion sagged as Marvin hopped up beside him. He reached down and rubbed the dog's head.

What the hell was he going to do?

Cash's question had started the debate raging in his head again. When everybody else flew off to New York to support Maggie at her showing could he really sit at home twiddling his thumbs?

Forget that!

He reached for his laptop, but his eyes caught on the clock. Oops. Way too late to mess with this. Besides, he couldn't simply show up there, could he?

He'd already eaten more than a fair share of crow. He'd apologized, tried to explain. But would Maggie have any of it? Oh, no. She wouldn't listen. Wouldn't believe. And damned if he intended to crawl again. He needed to think about this.

Time to go to bed. He had to work tomorrow.

He toed off his boots and stripped off his socks. Walking barefoot into the bedroom, he dropped his clothes inside the door. Jeans, shirt, boxers—all of it—landed in a heap on the hardwood floor.

Sliding beneath the sheets, still rumpled from last night, he stared up at the ceiling. Sleep refused to come. Marvin, curled up beside him, didn't have the same problem. He started snoring inside two minutes.

Slowly, a plan formed in Brawley's mind. A way to save face. Throwing back the bedclothes, he jumped up, grabbed his boxers from the pile, and stepped into them.

In the living room, he turned on his laptop. Somewhere in that huge city, there had to be a veterinary conference he could attend. Animal doctors came together all the time to discuss the latest treatment and medicines. It was simply a matter of finding it and registering.

Voila
. The answer to his problem.

O
n her hands and knees adjusting a hem, Maggie heard the door slap open. When she turned, Sophie and Annie stood just inside the room, a look of awe on their faces.

“Hey!” Maggie scrambled to her feet. “I'm so glad you're here! How was the flight?”

“Great!”

She opened her arms, and the three of them met in the middle of the room for a huge hug. All of them talking at once, she showed them around, pointing out features of the outfits arranged on dress forms.

“Which is mine?” Sophie asked.

“Over here.” Maggie led them to a slim, floor-length gown in black charmeuse. Swirly black lace over a nude, barely there fabric formed the top.

Sophie stared at it, then at Maggie. “I can actually wear this?”

“You'd better wear it. I made it specifically to your measurements.”

“Oh, Ty's going to want me so bad when he sees me in this,” she sang.

“I think that's a pretty accurate prediction, although my guess is he'd want you even dressed in a feed sack. We'll try this on and see if I need to make any nips or tucks.”

Sophie clapped her hands. “I feel like a kid on the last day of school.”

Then Maggie glanced at Annie, her eyes taking in subtle changes. “We may need to make a few adjustments to the fit on yours, Mama-in-waiting.”

Annie beamed and patted her still flat tummy. “I'm so glad the doctor gave me permission to fly. I'd have died if I couldn't be here.”

“Me, too. Without friends…” Maggie shook her head. “Nothing's quite as sweet.”

She walked them over to a black two-piece outfit. The knit top zipped halfway down the front and had bat sleeves. Maggie had paired it with a very short, slim skirt.

“This one's yours, Annie. The top has a blousy fit. It should be perfect for you.”

“Oooh, I like this.” Annie ran a hand over the shoulders and down the sleeves. “I think I'll let Cash buy it for me.” She grinned.

“And I'd be eternally grateful. That way I'll have at least one sale.”

“Maggie.” Sophie draped an arm over her shoulder. “You're not seriously worried, are you?”

“Yes, I am. Owen has invested a lot of money in all this.” She waved a hand around the room. “I'm praying he didn't misplace his trust.”

“No way. They're going to love you.” Annie pulled out her phone.

“You can't take any pictures,” Maggie said quickly.

“No, I know. I'm texting a few friends to tell them how wonderful your collection is and that I can't wait to see them at the show tomorrow. They'll tell a few friends who will tell a few friends. Can't hurt to salt the place, right?”

“You're good.”

“I've spent too many years with Dad and Grandpa to let this kind of opportunity pass.” Glancing around, Annie said, “I'm starving. Feeding two, you know. Can you take time for lunch?”

“I can't, but there's a great little restaurant two doors down. Why don't you go have lunch, bring something back for me, and we'll do your fittings?”

“Sounds good.”

“Don't eat too much. Remember, you have to fit into these outfits tomorrow.”

Annie waved over her shoulder. “We'll skip dessert.”

“Speak for yourself,” Sophie said.

Maggie put a hand on her back and stretched into it. It had been a long day. But she was ready. Every single outfit had been completed and accessorized. A lot of designers seemed to thrive on last-minute drama. Not her.

She'd insisted Annie and Sophie go back to her apartment earlier with orders for Annie to nap. She'd been looking rather peaked by the time they'd finished her fitting.

Having already sent everyone including Zandra home, Maggie shut off the lights and locked up. After months, heck, years of preparing for this, now, on the eve of her first showing, it all seemed surreal.

Rather than take the subway, she decided to splurge on a taxi. It wasn't every day she finished putting final touches on her very own runway show.

When she reached her apartment, she smiled at the lights on in the windows. Her friends waited inside for her.

She flew up the stairs with renewed vigor. Opening the door, she called, “Hello. Anybody home?”

Annie peeked around the kitchen counter. “Hey, Maggie. This place is wonderful.”

“It is, isn't it?” She dropped her keys and purse on the little stand inside the door.

Sophie came down the hall, a towel wrapped around her. “I already took my shower, so the bath is open.”

Maggie dropped into a chair. “Good. I might stand under the water for the rest of the evening. I'm beat.” She reached down and pulled off her shoes. “Oh, my feet love me right now.”

Sophie and Annie glanced at each other.

Maggie caught it. “What?”

“We thought you might be in this shape when you hit the door,” Annie said.

Sophie nodded.

“And?” Maggie prompted.

Sophie took a peek at the wall clock. “You have about twenty minutes for that shower. I noticed a comfy, terry cloth robe hanging on the back of the bathroom door. If you want, you can wear that to dinner.”

“My robe?” Maggie's forehead creased in a frown. “That's pretty casual even for Maverick Junction. I'm not sure I'd get away with it here in the city.”

“Not out and around maybe,” Annie said. “But you certainly can here in your own home.”

“I intend to wear my pj's,” Sophie said.

“And I'm changing into mine,” Annie added. “As soon as the food comes. Somebody has to be decent to answer the door.”

“What are you talking about? Who's coming?”

“The delivery boy with all things decadent from my favorite restaurant.”

“You ordered in?”

“I did.”

“Oh, Annie, I do love you.”

Maggie hadn't realized how badly she'd missed this.

The food came ten minutes after her shower, and they ate in the living room, talking a mile a minute about Maverick Junction, her show, the coming baby, books they'd read, and movies they'd watched. About everything and nothing.

A church bell tower down the street chimed eleven times.

“Can it be that late?” Maggie checked the wall clock.

“We're running on Central time, so according to our internal clock it's only ten,” Annie said. “Between the trip and this little one, though, I'm bushed.”

“You slept almost the whole way here,” Sophie said.

Annie's brows rose. “I'm surprised you noticed. We barely had our seat belts fastened before you, the nervous flier, fell asleep.”

“Guilty as charged. I had a good reason, though. Jesse caught some kind of virus at school and spent most of the night in the bathroom throwing up. My guess is the other two will be at it tonight, although when I checked in, Ty said so far, so good.”

“Who are the boys staying with when he flies out?”

“His mom and dad. They'll have their hands full if the upchucking starts while they're with them. Babs wanted them for a little auntie time, but she has to run to Austin tomorrow. She'll be on standby after she gets home if Gram and Grampa need her.” Sophie threw Annie an evil grin. “You have no idea what you're in for, cuz.”

“That may be,” Annie said. “However, I'm only going to experience everything times one, not times three.”

“There is that.”

Maggie yawned and stretched. “I hate to be a party pooper, girls, but I need to find my bed. I've been working my butt off, and tomorrow promises to be a long day.”

She pointed at them. “And you. I've told everyone I have the two most beautiful women in the world modeling for me, so we can't have any red eyes from lack of sleep.”

Sophie picked up their glasses and walked to the kitchen with them. “Good night, then, Cinderella. Sleep well.”

“You have everything you need?” Maggie asked.

“Yes, we do.”

“I hate having you sleep on the couch, Sophie.”

“It's a comfortable sofa, and I'll be fine. Go to bed.”

“Okay, okay.” Maggie hugged her friends. “I can't even begin to tell you how glad I am that you're here. You're exactly what the doctor ordered.”

As she closed her bedroom door, she heard Annie and Sophie talking and smiled. The apartment had been too quiet. She liked it like this, full of friends and laughter.

She brushed her teeth and slid into bed. Her phone chirped, and she reached across the nightstand to check the text.

How's it going? Ready for your big day?

Brawley was thinking about her.

Maggie quickly typed an answer.
I hope so. Sophie and Annie arrived today.

Company's always fun.

Got that right
, she typed.
Hear you had company, too.

No response. Maybe she shouldn't have taunted him with that, but darn it, the idea of Rachel showing up at his door raised her hackles.

It shouldn't. Brawley deserved a life. A wife and children. Regardless of whether she'd stayed in Maverick Junction or moved here, the cowboy would never be hers. Sooner or later, he was bound to find someone, but she didn't want it to be Rachel.

Her phone chirped again, and she grabbed it.

Rachel slept in Dottie's extra room. Didn't speak to her more than a couple minutes.

He sounded impatient. Good. Of course, she'd already known Rachel hadn't stayed with him, but still…

Wasn't talking that had me worried.

The instant she sent it, she groaned. That had been a mistake. She'd told him she didn't care. And she didn't. But he might get the wrong idea from that message.

She quickly typed another.

Love life a little bumpy?

His response was almost immediate.

Never loved her, Mags. You're the only woman I ever said those words to.

Oh, God. The phone nearly slid from her boneless fingers. Before she could respond, another message blipped onto her screen.

Cat got your tongue, Red?

She silenced the phone and pulled the covers over her head.