McKettricks of Texas: Garrett (13 page)

He smiled, but at the same time his throat went so tight that his voice came out sounding raw, as if it had been scraped off his vocal chords. “I miss Dad,” he said. “Mom, too.”

Tate nodded, tightened his fingers on Garrett's shoulder for a few moments, then let go. “We were damn lucky to have them as long as we did,” he said hoarsely.

Garrett, having left his hat in Austin's pickup, shoved a hand through his sweaty hair and looked away, struggling to compose himself. “I thought Morgan Cox was like Dad,” he said, unable to meet Tate's gaze. Contempt for the senator and for his own judgment roiled up inside Garrett. “It galls me that I believed it, even for a minute.”

“Maybe you
needed
to believe it for a while,” Tate said quietly.

By tacit agreement, they walked toward the riverbed and the caves they'd loved to explore as kids. They'd found arrowheads there, some of them ancient, along with colorful bits of crockery from the shantytown years. In those days, according to their mother, things like oatmeal and flour and tea and laundry soap had been sold with premiums inside—cups and saucers and sugar bowls and the like.

Boys being boys, they would have discarded the shards of old dishes—the arrowheads were a lot more interesting—but Esperanza liked to glue the prettiest china pieces to plant pots and tabletops, so they'd lugged them home to her in plastic grocery sacks.

The riverbed had been dry for a thousand years, if not longer, but if he closed his eyes and concentrated, Garrett
could almost hear it flowing by, almost smell the water. He bent, picked up a stick and flung it hard, the way he would have done alongside any of the creeks crisscrossing the ranch.

At some point, long, long ago, the river had changed course. It ran on the other side of the clustered oaks now, through the canyon it had carved into the land over centuries.

Tate watched him, squinting a little against the sun.

“I'd swear I remember when that river ran through here,” Garrett said.

Tate, probably guessing that something else was on Garrett's mind, simply waited. He'd always been the quiet type, Tate had, but since he and Libby had reconnected a few months before and gotten engaged to be married, his thoughts seemed to run deeper.

Or he was just more willing to share them.

“Maybe you can tell me,” Garrett said, “how I could have grown up around Blue River, gone through school with Julie Remington, from kindergarten to graduation from high school, and never noticed that she's beautiful.”

Tate chuckled. They walked one dusty bank of the river, though Garrett couldn't have said what they were looking for, beyond some sign of trespassers.

“So you're taken with Julie, are you,” he said. It was a comment, not a question.

“I didn't say I was
taken
with her, Tate,” Garrett pointed out, instantly on the defensive. “I said she was beautiful.”

“She's that, all right,” Tate agreed. Again, without ever voicing the decision, they were headed somewhere in particular—back to the plane.

Without intending to, Garrett asked, “Is Calvin's father in the picture?”

Tate sighed, rubbed his chin with one hand. Like
Garrett, he had a stubble coming in, though Tate's was dark, like his hair, while Garrett's was golden. “According to Libby, the guy—Gordon Pruett is his name—hasn't shown much interest in Calvin until recently. He paid child support and remembered birthdays, so I guess you could say he was trying, but he definitely kept his distance.”

Picturing Calvin, squinting up at him through the smeared lenses of those very serious glasses of his, Garrett ached. How could a man father a child and then just ignore him, except for writing a check once a month and sending birthday gifts?

“Until lately,” Garrett said.

“Pruett wasn't around,” Tate nodded. “Until lately. Now, I guess he's decided he wants to be part of Calvin's life, and Julie's pretty concerned, according to Libby.”

“Why the change?” Garrett asked. They'd reached the plane and the glare off the metal sides made him pull his sunglasses from the pocket of his work shirt and put them on.

“I guess because he got married,” Tate said. “Pruett, I mean. Now, all of a sudden, he's a family man.”

Garrett felt a combination of things, none of which he wanted to examine too closely right at that moment. “How's Calvin taking all this?”

Tate raised and lowered one shoulder in a nearly imperceptible shrug. “He's like any little kid,” he said. “He wants a dad.”

“This Pruett—he's all right?”

Tate opened the door on his side of the plane, climbed in. “As far as I know,” he replied. “Libby stands up for him. And she's a pretty good judge of character.”

Garrett laughed. “Oh, yeah? She's marrying
you,
isn't she?” he joked, rounding the plane to hoist himself back
into the pilot's seat. “Just how good a judge of character can she be?”

Tate grinned. “You've got a point,” he said.

“You're one lucky bastard,” Garrett told him. “You know that, don't you?”

Tate nodded. “Sure do,” he answered.

W
HEN
J
ULIE AND
C
ALVIN ARRIVED
at the McKettrick house that evening, Garrett was in the kitchen again, chatting up Esperanza while she put the finishing touches on one of her simple but wonderful suppers. Tonight it happened to be fried chicken, mashed potatoes with gravy and steamed corn.

Harry scrambled up off a rug in front of the crackling fire on the hearth to greet Calvin with face licks and tail wagging and a low, eager whine that meant he wanted to go outside.

Calvin gave Esperanza and Garrett a jaunty wave, then took Harry into the backyard. Julie, thrown by Garrett's presence for no reason she could identify, nodded to him, smiled at Esperanza and sped off into the part of the house she and Calvin shared.

Her heart was pounding, as if she'd had some sort of close call, and she felt the sting of a blush in her cheeks. Chiding herself for being silly, she dumped her purse and tote bag–briefcase, got out of her cloth coat and headed for “her” room.

The master bedroom in the guest suite was twice the size of the one she slept in at the cottage. There were cushioned window seats under the bay windows, and an unimpeded view of rangeland and foothills unfurled from there.

If she'd had the
time
to sit and dream, Julie silently lamented, she'd have chosen that spot for the purpose.

Alas, she seemed to have less and less free time these days, and more and more responsibilities. With the high school musical to cast, rehearse and stage—a task she usually undertook when she had the momentum of spring fever working for her—with her rental house officially on the market and Gordon Pruett dead set on being part of Calvin's life—

Well, it would be easy to feel overwhelmed.

Since that wasn't an option, either, she sucked in a deep breath, blew it out, and murmured one of her favorite, if most irreverent, mantras.

Shit happens.

After kicking off her low-heeled pumps and shedding the tailored gray pantsuit she'd worn to work that day, Julie hastened into worn jeans and a blue-and-white striped T-shirt with long sleeves.

She had never been shy, but that dreary autumn afternoon, the temptation to hide out in the guest quarters required some overcoming on her part.

It didn't help, knowing she was acting like an adolescent. But the moment she'd stepped into the house and locked gazes with Garrett McKettrick a couple of minutes before, every cell in her body had begun to buzz with awareness. Although the vibrations were beginning to slow—she splashed cold water on her face at the bathroom sink to help the process along a little—the second they were in the same room together again, she knew she'd feel as though she'd stuck a finger into some cosmic light socket.

Julie had worn her hair up that day, pinned into a thick bun
at the back of her head, and now, standing in front of the bathroom mirror, she let it tumble down around her shoulders.

Instantly, she regretted the action.

Wearing her hair down when she wasn't working was normal for Julie, but that afternoon, it seemed to say,
Come hither.

She didn't want Garrett to think she was a red-hot mama with almost as many erogenous zones as she had freckles. Of course she
was,
or at least had been, but—that was
beside the point.

Julie drew in another breath, gathered her hair back into a ponytail, grabbed a rubber band to secure it.

There,
she thought.
You don't look the least bit sexy.

She didn't look the least bit like herself, either. So she removed the rubber band, finger-fluffed her hair, and turned purposefully away from the mirror to march right back out into the main kitchen.

Since when had she based her hairstyles on a
man's
opinion—for or against? She'd left that kind of stuff behind at the end of junior high, hadn't she?

Upon reaching the kitchen, she saw that Calvin and Harry were back from the yard—Calvin's cheeks were pink from the cold and the lenses of his glasses were fogged up. He'd apparently gotten his jacket zipper stuck, because Garrett was crouched in front of him, trying to work the tab.

Both of them were laughing, and the sound snagged in Julie's heart, a sweet pain, too quickly gone.

Esperanza smiled at Julie, but Garrett and Calvin hadn't noticed her.

“Stick 'em up, Pilgrim,” Garrett told the child, when the zipper remained immovable.

Calvin laughed again and flung both his hands up in the air, and Garrett lifted the partially zipped jacket off over the child's head, jostling his glasses in the process.

Calvin took off his specs, wiped them with the tail of his shirt and stuck them back on his face. Julie knew he'd seen her, but all his attention, it seemed, was reserved for Garrett.

Garrett, giving Julie a sidelong look, handed her the jacket and then scooped Calvin up, tickling as he lifted him high.

Calvin's laughter rang like bells on a clear summer day.

Harry barked in delight.

Esperanza chuckled and shook her head, her eyes misted over.

And Julie just stood there, watching, stricken with some combination of joy and sorrow, wonder and caution.

Catching something in her expression, Garrett carefully set Calvin back on his feet, ruffled his hair.

“He shouldn't get overexcited,” Julie explained, as though Calvin weren't there, or didn't comprehend the English language. Even as she said the words, she regretted them, but they came out automatically. “He has asthma.”

Calvin spared her a single glance, wounded and angry, and then turned away, ruffling Harry's ears and asking loudly if the dog was ready to have some supper.

Julie let out her breath, and her shoulders drooped, and the hem of Calvin's jacket brushed the floor. “Too bad real life doesn't have a Rewind button,” she told Garrett miserably.

Garrett, cowboy-handsome in clean boots, newish jeans and a fresh-smelling, long-sleeved Western shirt, quirked up one corner of his mouth, underscoring the grin that was already twinkling in his impossibly blue eyes.

“Supper's ready,” he said, relieving her of Calvin's jacket, setting it aside, and steering her toward the table, one hand resting lightly against the small of her back.

The gesture was subtle—barely a touch of his fingers—and at the same time, utterly masculine. Julie loved the way it felt.

Calvin, having filled Harry's kibble bowl and given him fresh water as well, disappeared, without being told, to wash his hands.

He returned holding them up as evidence that he'd followed the rules, well-scrubbed and a little damp.

He'd even slicked a wet comb through his hair.

“You look very handsome,” Julie told her son sincerely.

Calvin favored her with a forgiving smile. “Thanks,” he said, straightening his glasses before climbing onto the chair beside his. Then, after making sure both Esperanza and Garrett were paying attention, he wriggled his right front tooth.

“Sthee?” he lisped. “It's going to come out.”

“Calvin,” Julie corrected gently. “Not at the table.”

After that, everyone bowed their heads and Esperanza offered a brief prayer of thanksgiving.

“Esperanza,” Garrett said, having made sure the chicken platter went around the table before helping himself to two large pieces, “I haven't even tasted this food yet, but I can already tell you've outdone yourself. Again.”

The older woman beamed, enjoying the praise. “Shush,” she said, pleased.

A distant grinding sound alerted them to the rising of one of the garage doors.

Harry, just finishing his kibble, perked up his ears and gave an uncertain bark.

As guard dogs went, Harry was a wuss, but he liked to go through the motions.

A couple of beats passed, during which no one spoke, and then the door between the kitchen and the garage swung open and Austin stepped over the threshold.

The youngest of the McKettrick brothers, Austin was just as good-looking as Tate or Garrett, and famous on the rodeo circuit. Even when he was being friendly, it seemed to Julie, who didn't know him all that well, there was a go-to-hell look in his eyes.

“Well,” Garrett said easily, settling back in his chair to survey his brother, “you look like five miles of bad road, but welcome home anyhow.”

“Let me get you a plate!” Esperanza told Austin, already on her feet.

Austin stopped her with a tired gesture of one hand. “I had a burger outside of San Antonio,” he said. He took off his hat, which looked as though it had fallen into a chute at the rodeo and been stomped on, and hung it on a peg.

His light brown hair was shaggy, curling above the collar of his denim jacket, and his boots were nothing fancy. That night, he looked more like a drifter hoping for a berth in the bunkhouse than a McKettrick son and heir.

Austin grinned at Calvin, then the dog. His McKettrick-blue eyes were weary when he looked at Julie, but he smiled. “Hello, Julie,” he said. “Good to see you.”

She smiled back and nodded. “Hi, Austin.”

Esperanza was all aflutter, even though she'd sunk back into her chair at Austin's wave. “You'll be hungry later,” she insisted.

“When that happens, I'll come down here looking for grub,” Austin teased.

What was it about him that made Julie's throat tighten, and tears burn behind her eyes? She stole a glance at Garrett and saw that he was frowning a little as he studied his brother.

“In the meantime,” Austin said, opening one of the refrigerator doors and pulling out a long-necked bottle of beer, “I just want to take a hot shower and crash in my own bed.”

Nobody responded to that.

Austin nodded a farewell, taking them all in, and headed up one of the three sets of stairs rising from the kitchen to the second floor.

Esperanza sat stiffly, staring down at her food.

Garrett wasn't eating, either, and Julie, hungry as she was, didn't pick up her fork.

Only Calvin, gnawing happily on a drumstick, seemed to have an appetite.

Austin's footsteps echoed overhead.

Garrett pushed back his chair, exchanged glances with Esperanza and muttered, “Excuse me.”

Rising, he left the table and then the room, taking the same stairs Austin had used moments earlier.

“Do you think you can fix my zipper?” Calvin asked. “Because I'm going to need that jacket tomorrow to go to the horse sale with Tate and Audrey and Ava, while you and Aunt Libby and Aunt Paige are in Austin shopping for Aunt Libby's wedding dress.”

Julie blinked, refocused her attention on her son and even picked up her fork to resume her supper. “I can fix the zipper,” she assured him. “But it's time you had a new coat, anyway. Maybe I'll pick one up at the mall.”

A protest took shape in Calvin's earnest little face. “Not without me,” he said, and then swallowed. “You might get something geeky-looking.”

Julie chuckled, and Esperanza smiled, too.

“Gee, buddy,” Julie said, mussing up Calvin's hair with one hand, “thanks for the vote of confidence. When was the last time I bought you something ‘geeky-looking'?”

Calvin straightened his spine. “At Christmas,” he replied. “You gave me that sweater with that lame duck on the front.”

Julie defended herself. “That was Santa.”

Calvin blew through both lips and then said, “Puleeeeze, Mom.”

So he had been humoring her—he didn't believe in Santa anymore. And he was only five. She'd hoped for one more believing Christmas, just one more, but apparently it wasn't to be.

The backs of Julie's eyes stung again, the way they had when she'd looked at Austin a few minutes earlier, but she managed a smile.

“Finish your supper,” she said. “We'll figure out the new-jacket thing later.”

By the time Garrett returned, Julie and Esperanza had cleared the table, except for his plate and utensils, and Calvin was happily splashing away in the bathtub in the guest quarters, with Julie checking on him every few minutes.

Returning from one of these runs, she paused to look at him for a moment, wondering what to say, if anything, before she gave up and began helping Esperanza load the dishwasher.

With a sigh, Garrett sat down.

“I could heat that food up for you,” Esperanza offered, watching him.

He smiled, but he looked tired. “I could heat it up for myself,” he said. “But there's no need.”

“Is Austin all right?” Esperanza asked, in the tone of a woman who has held back a question as long as she was able.

Garrett didn't answer right away. When he did speak, his voice was low and slightly rough. “Probably not,” he said. “I tried to get him to talk, and he told me to leave him the hell alone, so that's what I plan on doing. For tonight, anyhow.”

Esperanza lifted worried eyes toward the ceiling. She murmured something, probably a prayer, and shook her head.

“He'll be fine in a few days, Esperanza,” Garrett said quietly.

Esperanza opened her mouth, closed it again.

“I'll finish cleaning up,” Julie told her, very gently. “You've been working all day.”

“So have you,” Esperanza pointed out, cheering up a little, reaching back to untie her apron. With a sigh, she added, “But I think I'll take you up on your kind offer, Julie. Put up my feet and read for a while before bed. There's nothing decent on TV.”

Julie took the apron from Esperanza's hand, nodded.

After the housekeeper had gone, Garrett got up from the table and put his plate into the microwave, pushed a few buttons.

Meanwhile, Julie wiped down counters, rinsed out the sponge, washed her hands and applied lotion. The air trembled with that now-familiar tension, and she stole several glances at Garrett, trying to figure out if he was feeling it, too.

The microwave timer dinged, and he took out his plate, returned to the table, sat down to eat. Sighed before picking up his fork.