On Lone Star Trail (20 page)

All that had happened more than twenty years ago. Times had changed. As if that weren't enough, this was Texas, a state noted for its friendliness. In all likelihood, Mike was simply being friendly, offering Gillian a chance for a home-cooked meal and a change of scenery. She had no reason to imagine other motives behind the invitation.

Gillian took a deep breath and switched on her e-reader. Perhaps Patricia Bradley's latest suspense novel would keep her from worrying about Mike and his invitation.

She shouldn't worry. The truth was, she was looking forward to Sunday. If the rest of the Tarkett family was like Mike, it would be a pleasant day. Gillian imagined she'd feel both welcomed and at home with his parents and the aunts, uncles, and cousins who continued the tradition of spending Sunday together. She already knew she enjoyed being with Mike. They had a camaraderie that made her look forward to their time together.

Gillian sighed as her brain refused to concentrate on the words she was trying to read. It was more than silly; it was downright annoying the way her thoughts kept drifting to TJ and the time they spent together.

Why did her heart leap every time she saw TJ? He'd made it clear they had no future. Gillian had never been one to chase after lost causes or pine for something she could not have, but this was different. Though she told her brain there was no reason to cherish every moment she was with TJ, her heart was not listening.

Infatuation. That must be the answer. What she felt was infatuation. Definitely not love.

“Hey, dude, whatcha doing here today?” Pete Darlington called as TJ pulled into the job site. The muscular man was standing next to the construction trailer, a cold soda in his hand. “You gonna let me ride your bike?”

TJ shook his head. “Nope. I wanted to talk to you about Brianna.” Though TJ rarely left school during his lunch break, he'd made an exception today, wanting to be certain he saw Pete before Brianna's classes ended.

“Brianna Carter?” The man's innocent air did nothing to reassure TJ.

“I heard you two are seeing a lot of each other.”

“So what if we are? There's no law against being friends.”

“There is if it goes beyond friendship. She's a minor.”

The way Pete blanched confirmed TJ's fear that the man had more than simple friendship in mind.

“You're kidding. She looks . . .”

TJ shook his head. “I wouldn't kid about something like that. She's definitely underage.”

Pete held up his hands in surrender. “Hey, man, I don't plan to get into trouble.”

As he returned to school, TJ couldn't help noticing that Pete's concern had been for himself and not Brianna.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Gillian asked when she entered Brianna's trailer and found the girl with a tear-stained face. Though Brianna had seemed distant last night, she'd attended the campfire. Tonight she'd been conspicuously absent, and that had worried Gillian enough that she'd come looking for her.

“Nope.” Brianna shook her head to emphasize her response. “There's nothing you can do. Nothing anybody can do.”

Recognizing the despair as a call for help, Gillian settled onto the couch. “Sometimes it helps to talk.”

There was a moment of silence before Brianna gave a grudging nod. “Promise you won't tell my mom?”

It was Gillian's turn to shake her head. “I can't make that promise. If I think your life or someone else's is in danger, I'd have to do something.”

“It's not my life. It's my heart.” Brianna swiped a tear from her cheek. “I love him, but I don't think he loves me anymore.”

“Todd?” The boy had looked lovelorn the last time Gillian had seen him.

“Todd?” Brianna spat the name as if it were a curse. “That's
over. Todd's a boy. Pete's a man.” Brianna's face softened as she looked at Gillian. “I love Pete. He's everything I ever wanted in a man. He's even got a truck.”

A truck and a driver's license were an almost irresistible combination for a girl Brianna's age. Add to that the appeal of having caught an older man's attention and it didn't take a genius to understand why Brianna was infatuated with Pete Darlington.

“I'm probably going to sound like your mom, but what do you know about him?”

“I know that he's big and strong and handsome and he makes me feel like I'm the most beautiful woman in the world.”

“But he's kind of old, isn't he?” Gillian tried to mute her concern, not wanting to discourage Brianna from confiding in her.

Brianna shook her head again. “He's not old. He's grown up. Oh, Gillian, I want to marry him. He's not like Todd.” She wrinkled her nose in disgust. “I wanted to get married this summer, but Todd said we had to wait.”

And that, Gillian suspected, was the reason for the rift between them.

Brianna gestured toward the table with its heavy load of magazines and the dust bunny convention underneath. “Pete will take me away from this dump and give me a nice home and we'll be so happy.”

But that wouldn't happen, because Natalie would never agree to the marriage, and—thanks to TJ's conversation with him this afternoon—Pete now knew Brianna was far younger than she appeared.

“Then, why are you crying?”

“Because he says we can't do anything until I'm older. Oh, Gillian, I don't want to wait.”

TJ smiled at the muted roar of his bike engine. It didn't have the same deep-throated sound as a Harley, but he liked it, in part because the modifications the previous owner had made gave it a distinctive sound. His bike was one of a kind, like Gillian.

His smile faded, and he gripped the handlebars tighter than necessary. This was becoming absurd. Though he was a grown man who knew better, he was acting like one of his students, being distracted by a pretty face. He frowned and shook his head. Gillian was more than a pretty face. She was an intelligent, talented, caring woman. A woman with many depths. A woman any man would be proud to have by his side.

TJ leaned to the right as he rounded a corner a bit faster than he might have had he not been so obsessed with Gillian. Obsessed was a strong word, and yet he couldn't deny that it fit. No matter how he tried to stop it, he found himself daydreaming about her, trying to understand every facet of the woman who'd become such an important part of his life.

Gillian had an intense loyalty to Kate and her grandmother, but there was more to her than that. She obviously cared deeply about complete strangers. Why else would she devote so much energy to the senior center? And look how she'd taken Brianna under her wing. Others might have been put off by the girl's appearance, but Gillian had seen beneath that and was doing everything she could to make sure the girl had a good future.

She was brave too. TJ was certain it had taken a lot of courage to agree to play the church organ, knowing everyone was expecting perfection and that she might not be able to deliver it. A lesser woman would have found an excuse to refuse, but Gillian had not. She'd accepted the challenge, and if TJ was right, she would meet it.

And then there was her giving nature. Though she was a woman of obvious means, she was willing to contribute sweat equity rather than simply writing a check. Even more importantly, she seemed to gain an inordinate amount of pleasure from
that sweat equity, almost as if she had been proving something to herself as she painted those walls. Perhaps she had been.

Though he'd planned to stop by the senior center to see if there was anything else Gillian needed, TJ headed for the highway. He needed a couple miles of open road to clear his head. Somehow, some way, he needed to make sense of his thoughts.

He wouldn't deny that Gillian was a woman of contrasts, a woman who fascinated him. He also wouldn't deny that he wanted to spend every day with her. But as Shakespeare said, there was the rub. No matter how he felt about Gillian, TJ knew he had little to offer her.

Mike Tarkett had money, prestige, and social prominence. On top of that, he was a genuinely nice guy who obviously cared for her. He could give Gillian everything she deserved with no strings attached. Mike was the kind of man she should marry.

What did TJ have? Not even a whole heart. Slowly, ever so slowly, he was coming to accept that what Greg had said was true. Deb wouldn't want him to give up a chance at happiness. But that didn't mean TJ was ready to open his heart to another woman, not when all he could give her was a tiny sliver of that heart.

Logic said he should back off, that he should limit their time together to supper and the evenings at Firefly Valley. TJ knew that. But his heart said something quite different.

I
can't believe it.” Gillian leaned forward, her eyes fixed on the arena. If she minded being at the top of the grandstands, she gave no sign. If this wasn't the way she'd expected to spend a Saturday afternoon, again she gave no sign. Instead, she seemed fascinated by everything going on below. It was TJ who had second thoughts.

He'd told himself to keep his distance. He'd told himself they could be nothing more than friends. He'd even told himself it didn't bother him that Gillian would be spending most of tomorrow with Mike Tarkett and his family. None of those admonitions had had any effect, which was why TJ was seated next to Gillian on what could only be called a date.

Coming here had been a last-minute decision, which was why they had seats in the nosebleed section. Though TJ was not normally impulsive, when he'd seen the ad for a rodeo less than an hour's drive from Dupree, he'd found himself imagining it through Gillian's eyes.

To his surprise, she hadn't needed much persuasion. When he'd mentioned it, a bright smile had lit her face, and she'd confirmed what he'd suspected: she'd never been to a rodeo.
Her obvious eagerness to experience this quintessential western event had told TJ it wasn't a mistake, no matter how his heart might ache. If today brought Gillian pleasure, that was all that mattered.

So far she seemed to be enjoying the day. Gillian had asked about the events during the drive, but once they'd arrived she'd seemed content to simply look around. They'd watched cattle being herded into pens behind the chutes, the arena being groomed by tractors pulling huge spiked rollers, and the stands filling with people wearing everything from jeans and Stetsons to long flowing skirts and flower-bedecked hats that TJ suspected were a fashion faux pas.

Like him, Gillian had worn jeans, a Western shirt with pearl snaps, and a wide-brimmed cowboy-style hat. The difference was, she was wearing boots that looked like they'd come from Sam's Bootery while his were mass-produced. TJ doubted anyone would recognize her as Gillian Hodge, renowned concert pianist. Today she was simply a woman attending her first rodeo.

Her smile left no doubt that she was having fun. “Those guys look just like cowboys from those old Westerns Sally used to watch.” Not only were the men clad in regulation cowboy garb, but they were seated on intricately carved saddles atop some of the finest horseflesh TJ had seen. Though this wasn't a major stop on the rodeo circuit, it drew its share of top-ranked contestants.

“Only one problem: the guys from
Bonanza
didn't have cell phones.” TJ pointed toward the man engrossed in a conversation.

“I'm going to pretend I don't see that. That way, I can tell myself I'm back in the Wild West.”

TJ had never understood why filmmakers and some authors glamorized that period of American history. He'd heard of families taking vacations in covered wagons, forgetting the fact that most of the pioneers on the Oregon Trail had walked beside
those wagons rather than riding in the dubious comfort of a Conestoga.

“I assure you this is a twenty-first-century rodeo. If the cell phones aren't enough proof, check out that electronic scoreboard.” TJ pointed to the large sign displaying sponsors' products, then smiled at the woman seated next to him. His reservations had been misplaced.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the announcer's voice boomed throughout the arena, “please rise for the presentation of colors.”

Two riders entered the arena, one carrying the United States flag, the other the Texas lone star. When they reached the center, the announcer led the audience in the pledge of allegiance followed by a singing of “The Star Spangled Banner.” As they took their seats again, TJ noticed Gillian blinking rapidly.

“That's one of those moments that make me proud to be an American,” she said, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye.

“I know what you mean. The national anthem never fails to send chills down my spine.” Without conscious thought, he reached over and clasped her hand. It felt good—so very good—to be touching her like this, and when she smiled, TJ felt his heart leap. Today was not a mistake. Far from it. Coming here was the best move he'd made in a long time.

As the tie-down roping began, TJ kept Gillian's hand in his. Though her attention was focused on the arena, his gaze rotated between the event and the woman next to him. Watching Gillian watch the calf emerge from the chute and look around as if puzzled over why it was there, was even more fun than staring at the animal. As the audience began to laugh at the calf's indecision, it moved forward another foot. An instant later the cowboy burst from his chute and headed for the calf.

Though the calf ran, it was no match for the cowboy and his well-trained horse. Within seconds, the calf had a rope around its neck. The rider leapt from his horse, picked up the calf, dropped
it on its side, tied three legs together, then threw his hands into the air, telling the timekeeper he was done.

“Wow!” Gillian stared at the man and the calf, then at the scoreboard. “What are they waiting for?”

“There's a six-second delay,” TJ explained. “If the calf frees itself, the rider is disqualified.” But the calf remained on the ground, his legs trussed, and the cowboy garnered the best score yet.

“I can't believe they do all that so quickly,” Gillian said, her voice filled with enthusiasm after they'd watched a few more entrants successfully rope their calves.

“Not everyone does.” As if on cue, the next rider failed to rope the calf, leading the announcer to call out, “No time.”

“There's nothing a contestant hates more than to get a ‘no time,'” TJ explained.

Gillian looked down at the line of cowboys waiting for their turn in the chutes. “Why do they do it?”

“You mean other than for sport? They can earn some impressive purses if they're good enough, and there are always the bragging rights. But if you're asking why anyone would want to tie a calf's legs, tie-down roping is like many of the rodeo events. It has its background in ranching. The same skills you just saw are important on a ranch or a cattle drive. A cowboy needs to be able to catch and restrain a calf for branding and even doctoring.”

“I hadn't thought about that.” Gillian turned toward TJ, her face lit with a mischievous smile. “All right. I'll admit it. Before today I never thought about cattle ranching. I eat steaks and own my share of leather goods, but I never thought about how those things were produced.” She gave her new boots a look that told TJ she had a different perspective on cowhide.

“It's a business, always has been,” TJ said. “Technology has changed some things, but you're still dealing with animals, and they can be unpredictable. Like this one.” He pointed toward the calf running in a zigzag pattern, trying to elude the cowboy. “He doesn't want to be roped.” But he was.

Gillian's hand moved within his grip, her fingers lacing with his. “How do you know all this?”

“I'm a Texan.”

As he'd hoped, she chuckled. “Don't tell me they teach Rodeo 101 in school.”

“Okay. I won't.”

Her chuckle turned into a full-fledged laugh.

“This is really fun,” she said while the arena was being groomed between events. “I'm so glad you invited me.”

They both rose as the family that had been next to them returned carrying paper trays laden with hot dogs, fries, and sodas. When they were once again seated, Gillian's smile broadened. “I mean it, TJ. This is the most fun I've had in years.”

Before he knew what was happening, she moved closer, her head tipping to the side as she kissed his cheek. “Thanks.”

For a second TJ was too startled to do anything but stare at Gillian. When he'd thought about the day, kisses—even casual ones like this—had not been part of it. Though he'd suffered hugs at the funeral, even the most demonstrative women had seemed to realize he would not welcome a kiss. His wife's lips had been the last to touch him, but now Gillian had changed all that by doing the unexpected.

TJ wasn't certain how long it took him to find his voice and manage to stammer out, “I'm glad you're enjoying the rodeo.” It was probably only a second or two, but as he pronounced the last word, he knew he'd done something wrong. Though the change was subtle, TJ saw the light in Gillian's eyes dim ever so little. Somehow he'd hurt her, when that was the last thing he'd intended. He wanted to say something—anything—to restore the gleam, but his brain refused to think of anything other than how good it had felt to have Gillian's lips on his cheek.

Why had she done that? Gillian wished she could rewind the tape and eliminate that foolishly impulsive kiss. She knew TJ wasn't looking for a romantic relationship. They were friends—just friends—and while it was true that hugs and kisses on the cheeks were common among friends, it was obvious she had made TJ uncomfortable. Oh, he'd done his best to hide it, but there was no ignoring the way he'd turned into a stone statue the moment her lips had touched his cheek.

Gillian took a deep breath, trying to convince herself this was a minor glitch, not an earth-shattering event. Though she was sorry she'd embarrassed him, she could not regret the kiss itself. Her lips could still feel the faint whisker stubble, and she could still smell soap and sunblock, ordinary fragrances that combined with the scent that was uniquely TJ to create something unforgettable.

She knew she'd remember the moment her lips had touched his cheek. Perhaps she'd even dream of it. But one thing she would not do was talk about it. Not to TJ, not to anyone.

Settling back in her seat, Gillian searched for a subject to put him at ease. “Did you ever dream of being a rodeo star?” she asked. That seemed likely for a boy growing up in a state with so many champions.

He shook his head. “My dream was owning a motorcycle.”

“And now you do.”

“Yeah. Next month marks a year.”

He said it casually, and yet the simple statement surprised Gillian. “I assumed you'd had it much longer. I don't know much about bikes, but I thought it was older than a year.”

“It is. I had my eye on it for ten years, but my wife didn't like motorcycles.”

“Smart woman.” Though she would not have introduced the subject, now that TJ had, Gillian was grateful for the opportunity to learn more about the woman who still owned TJ's heart. At times Gillian had believed TJ was healing, that his grief was
lessening, but his reaction to her kiss had proven how wrong she was. TJ wasn't ready to move on. Perhaps he never would be.

“Deb was a smart woman.” He nodded to emphasize his words. “You would have liked her. She wasn't a fancy person, but she had a real knack for getting along with people.”

Though TJ stared into the distance for a moment, Gillian knew he wasn't seeing the other side of the arena or the scoreboard. His thoughts were focused on the woman who'd been his wife.

“Everyone who met Deb liked her, even her worst students.”

“She was a teacher like you?” Gillian wasn't certain why, but she was surprised. When he'd spoken of his wife before, TJ had focused on her illness, not what she'd done with her life.

“She was a teacher, but not like me.” He corrected Gillian's assumption. “Deb was much better. She was born to teach. It came naturally to her, while I always had to work at it. And I didn't always succeed. She did.”

Gillian couldn't say whether she heard pride or awe in TJ's voice, but she knew that his wife's teaching skill had had a major impact on him. Perhaps believing he couldn't match her was part of the reason he'd given up teaching.

“Were you both at the same school?”

“Yeah. Deb taught elementary. I was junior high, then high school.” TJ stared at his boots as if fascinated by the pattern on their toes before he said, “We did everything together.”

“Including rodeos.”