First and Only: Callaghan Brothers, Book 2 (10 page)

As things went, the reading was relatively straight forward.  Nearly all of Brian O’Connell’s assets went to Patricia as his surviving spouse.  Both she and her daughter seemed to take pleasure in the fact that he hadn’t left much more than a small stipend to Lexi.  Of course, thought Jack, they had no idea that Brian had Jack set up a fund in Lexi’s name years ago and had been making regular deposits.  The result was a substantial amount to which no one else was privy.  And if Jack had been adding a little himself here and there, well, he saw no harm in that.  The result was a nice little nest egg that, in reality, surpassed the amount willed to Patricia and Kayla.

Lexi, however, didn’t know that.  Jack’s admiration for her grew with each passing moment as the solicitor ticked off the items one by one.  Not once did she give any indication that the terms of the will bothered her in the least.  Her expression was thoughtful, her posture composed.  Had it been the other way around, Jack was sure that the women facing them would not be conducting themselves with such grace.  Lexi was Brian’s daughter, alright.  Beautiful, like her mother, but strong, like her father.

Jack’s theories were tested shortly thereafter, and, as usual, he had been dead on.  The lawyer waited until the end to drop the bombshell:  Brian O’Connell had stipulated in his will that a small house and property on the outskirts of town was to go to his only daughter, Alexis, in the hopes that one day she would return to her roots.

For a few moments no one said anything.  Lexi seemed just as shocked as the rest of them.  Her eyes widened and her mouth parted in surprise, offering the biggest reaction he’d seen from her thus far.  Then Patricia started sobbing and Kayla’s face literally turned purple with rage.  The lawyer did his best, reminding them that they had the much larger house and property in town, several vehicles, and hefty sums in bank accounts, stocks, and insurance.  Unfortunately, all of his assurances did little to appease them.

“It’s alright, Mother,” Kayla said, patting her hand.  “Surely she’s not going to keep it.” Kayla shot a challenging glance over Lexi’s way. 

Lexi stiffened beside him.  “And why not?”

“I would think that would be obvious.”

“Enlighten me.”

Kayla sat a little straighter.  “You have no reason to stay, of course,” she said with a cold smile, daring Lexi to disagree.

Jack had never seen such a blatant display of pettiness and malice.  “The hell she doesn’t!” he said forcefully.  Lexi squeezed his hand.  He looked at her in surprise.  She was giving
him
reassurance.  Had the situation not deteriorated so quickly he might have smiled.

“You know what, Kayla?  I’m not really sure that’s true,” Lexi said slowly. “Being back in Pine Ridge these past few days, well, it’s made me realize how much I miss it.  The clean, fresh mountain air.  The dramatic change in seasons.  And the people.  Everyone has been so very nice and supportive.”  She gave Jack a warm smile.  “Especially Uncle Jack and the boys.  They’ve been wonderful.”

The atmosphere in the room grew noticeably chillier.  “I beg your pardon?”  Patricia’s sobs became sniffles. 

Lexi stood, squaring her shoulders.  It was a slight movement, very graceful, but powerful.  “You heard me.  I don’t think I’ll let you run me out of town again just yet.”  Turning to the lawyer, she said, “Mr. Williamson, have we finished?”

The solicitor’s eyes shined with approval and respect.  “We have.”

“Then I thank you for all of your efforts.  I’ll be in touch.”  And then Lexi swept out of the office with the dignity and grace of royalty.

As they took their leave, Jack heard Patricia and Kayla arguing in earnest with the solicitor, but with more than a little exasperation in his voice, he explained that there was nothing he could do.  Jack, however, was walking tall with a huge grin on his still-handsome face and pride just radiating from every pore in his body. 

“Alexis, lass,” he said as he beamed at her, “I am going to treat you to the best steak dinner money can buy.”

* * *

L
exi’s head was spinning, the band of panic tightening around her chest.  It was a good thing that Jack Callaghan was the old-fashioned, chivalrous type.  He thought nothing unusual about the way she clung to his arm as he escorted her back to the Pub.  He appeared to like it actually, patting her hand and telling her how proud he was in that heart-warming, old-country accent of his. 

What the hell had she just done?  Jack Callaghan was beaming at her like she’d just won the Nobel Prize, yet her legs felt so wobbly she wasn’t sure she could take the next step without his support. Luckily, Jack was too riled up to notice.  Or if he did, he was too kind to say anything.

She had let her anger get the better of her.  She blamed it on her inherently volatile Irish temper, the one she usually kept hidden well under the layers of discipline.  The one over which she’d thought she had mastered control years ago. 

Apparently coming back home was affecting her good judgment, beginning with her first night. She’d given up her body to a man who didn’t even know who she was in a desperate, this-is-a-once-in-a-lifetime opportunity moment.  And not just once.  Heaven help her, just thinking of all the things she had done to him – that she let him do to her - that night had her body temperature rising several degrees, her skin tingling all over, and a little twinge of residual soreness reminding her of just how innocent she’d been. 

The hell with good judgment.  She couldn’t – wouldn’t – regret their time together.  No matter what.  Ian had been magnificent.  At once tender and fierce.  Maybe it was just her imagination, but she would swear it had been so much more than sex, even for him.  For one glorious night she had felt ... loved, treasured. 

She gave herself a mental shake. 
Don’t go there, don’t even think about it.
 

But
this
fell on the opposite end of the poor judgment spectrum.  This wasn’t filling her with the same warm and fuzzy.  Instead, cold dread slithered through her belly, instantly quelling all the good feelings that memories of her time with Ian had brought forth. Now she had effectively drawn a line in the sand with her stepmother over a house she didn’t want in a place she didn’t want to be.  What the hell was wrong with her?

Her life was in Benton now.  Her stable, lucrative, uncomplicated life with a definite schedule.  Wake up at five.  Have a light breakfast.  Exercise in her building’s exclusive fitness center – an hour in the pool, a few light weights.  Shower and dress.  Walk to the restaurant.  Lunch with Aidan.  Then work till ten or so.  Walk home, shadowed by the escort Aidan always dispatched but didn’t think she knew about.  Another shower.  Read a few chapters.  Go to sleep and dream about Ian. 

Boring, maybe.  But it
worked
for her.   She was successful and content.  She had a job she loved and the opportunity to help others.  The Benton County Shelter had become her second home on Sundays, when Aidan physically banned her from entering the restaurant.  Her life was simple, and she liked that.  No complicated relationships. 

Another bonus?  Nobody
there
wanted her head on a platter, at least not that she knew of.  Why complicate things? 

Pine Ridge might be where she started, but there was nothing here for her anymore. 

At least that’s what she tried to tell herself, but even she felt the lie.  There was plenty here.  History.  Friendship.  Support.  Incredibly hot burning passion. 

Inexorably mixed in were hatred, pettiness, jealousy, and, she was pretty sure, the certainty of a broken heart.  She’d already had enough of all that to last her a lifetime.  No, to live here would take more strength, more courage than she had.  There would be too much drama, throwing her already-fragile, chemically-balanced life into a total mess. 

Lexi didn’t need a steak dinner.  She needed a good stiff drink.  Several of them, in fact.  The fact that she didn’t drink was completely irrelevant. 

With that in mind, she gratefully accepted the finely-aged Irish whiskey Jack poured for her in celebration when they returned to the Pub.  She sat quietly, letting the alcohol slide down the back of her throat like silken fire, as Jack regaled Jake, his wife Taryn, and Ian – the only ones in the Pub at that hour - with a condensed version of what had occurred.  Jake looked almost as proud as Jack did, and Taryn seemed genuinely excited.  Lexi had met her at the funeral and had instantly taken to the woman.  Had she remained in Pine Ridge, she felt sure she and Taryn would have been good friends.

But Ian’s face was unreadable.  She could feel his devastating blue eyes on her, as if he was trying to work out a particularly difficult puzzle.  This morning’s brief encounter had left the waters murky at best.  She didn’t have a clue what he was thinking, and that was tying her up in knots even more. 

Was he angry with her for not telling him who she was and why she was in town?  Maybe.  The “Hell, no” she got in response to her earlier question had stung quite a bit more than she’d cared to admit, but she’d deserved it.  She was playing a dangerous game with a man way out of her league.  What did she expect?

Well, if he was angry, he was hiding it pretty well.  Everything about him suggested intensity, but not necessarily umbrage.  Then again, he wasn’t exactly fist-pumping at the idea of having her around any longer than necessary.

Of course he’s not happy about it
, she told herself as she lifted the glass to her lips, acutely aware of Ian’s penetrating gaze and completely unaware that Jake had refilled her glass.  Twice.  
He doesn’t want you sticking around.  You were supposed to be a one-time thing, remember?  Not to mention the fact that – oh yeah – he’s got a long time thing with Kayla.

That last thought had pain shooting through her stomach – or was that the shot she just chugged? – causing her to wince.  Ian’s watchful gaze narrowed.

Oh yeah.  She could understand why he would not be quite as pleased as the rest of them. Still, it hurt.  Somewhere - way deep down - some tiny little part of her still held out hope that he might actually want her to stay, even if it was completely out of the question.

D
espite her protests, Jack insisted on driving Lexi over to look at the property.  All she really wanted to do was head back to the hotel and soak in a hot tub for a day or two until she returned to her senses and could make a rational, practical decision based on something other than pure emotion.  But after standing up and letting the whiskey circulate a little, she had a lovely, warm buzz going and didn’t have the heart to tell him no.

What would she do with a house, she mused on the way over?  Houses required maintenance, upkeep.  Who would do all that?  She liked her apartment.  When something broke, she called Aidan and it would be fixed right away. Beyond changing a light bulb or jiggling the handle of the toilet when it ran, her knowledge of home repairs was non-existent. 

As they drove farther out of town, it dawned on her that it wasn’t just a house, but a house that most likely had property associated with it (she blamed the whiskey for the slow uptake).  What about mowing the lawn and trimming shrubs and that sort of thing?  Outside of the kitchen, she stayed far away from anything that included a motor and sharp blades, or, Heaven forbid, both.  She shivered just thinking about it. 

But it would be nice, some little voice in her head said, to plant your own flowers and have a nice little herb garden, wouldn’t it?  She shushed the voice away, earning a curious glance from Jack.

The property was located about ten miles past the outskirts of town.  She hadn’t even noticed the turn-off.  It was well concealed by massive trees and mountain laurel in full bloom.  A strong sense of déjà vu came over her as they wound their way down the long, overgrown drive.

The feeling grew stronger as the ancient-looking stone cottage came into view, and it had nothing to do with the Irish whiskey.  She couldn’t quite put her finger on it; the place seemed so familiar, and yet somehow different, if that made any sense.

The trees outside seemed bigger than they should have been.  The overgrown gardens should have been neatly tended and weed-free.  Blossoming vines grew unchecked over stone that had once glistened in the sunlight, and the slate roof was badly in need of repair.  Without looking, Lexi somehow knew that if she walked around the exterior, she would find a huge flat-stone patio in the back.  And beyond that, a creek that bisected near the edge of the property, forming a tiny island in the middle, perfect for childhood adventures.   

Without conscious effort, her mind transformed the reality of the property’s present state into long-forgotten images.  Visions of bright yellow and white flowers appeared, blossoming all around the wrap-around porch.  There had been roses once, too, but after she’d gotten tangled in them, they had all been ripped out and replaced with less thorny selections.  Baskets had hung from the roof of the porch, spilling blooms downward like soft-petaled waterfalls.  Dark reddish-brown shutters, painted to match the hues of the natural stone, framed windows opened wide to capture the summer breeze.  The picture of a gallon of sun tea on the wide, southerly facing kitchen sill and a basketful of ripe peaches from the little orchard on the right was too clear, too detailed to be just a dream.

“You probably don’t remember,” Jack said, watching her reaction carefully, “but this was your Grandmother’s place – your dad’s mama.  It was where you and your mom used to stay when your father and I got called out.”   

Jack took the keys from her trembling hands and opened the door for her.  Memories flooded back in earnest.

“I remember!” she murmured, retracing the steps she had taken years and years ago.  Off to the left was a huge sitting room, where her Grandma would rock back and forth while she played on the floor.  To the right was a kitchen – a massive room that had once held a wooden table the size of a car and a fireplace so big she could walk into it.  Farther back were the bedrooms - she remembered the three of them used to fit quite nicely on the enormous poster bed in the largest one - and a bathroom with a big claw-foot tub that she’d needed a wooden box to reach.  By today’s standards, the house was small and ancient.  But to Lexi, it was about the most perfect thing she had ever seen.