Texas Heat (10 page)

“There was no indication before Jake served his wife with divorce papers, either,” Myrna said with a knowing lift of her brow. “He tossed that woman out like a sack of trash just because she wanted a few nice things. He won't give you the advantage of a warning. He's a cold man, Savannah. Be careful of him. He'll do whatever it takes to get what he wants.”

Would he?
Savannah stared at the pâté and a sick feeling overwhelmed her. She couldn't believe that. She
wouldn't
believe it.

“How interesting,” Savannah said coolly, but she refused to let Myrna know she'd gotten to her. “Jake said the same thing about you.”

* * *

Savannah was curled up on the living room couch when Jake came in the back door that night. It was after nine. She heard the refrigerator door open, then the pop of a soda can. She lowered the mystery novel she'd been attempting to read for the past hour. Somehow she'd managed to get through a chapter, but couldn't remember one word she'd read.

Her heart began to pound as she set the book aside and unfolded herself from the couch. She had to face him sometime. They couldn't keep avoiding each other like this. Sooner or later, they were going to have to talk, if not for their own sakes, then for Emma's.

Drawing a steadying breath, she walked barefoot to the kitchen door and pulled her robe tightly around her as she stood there and watched him moving things around inside the refrigerator. He hadn't turned the overhead light on, but the lamp inside the refrigerator illuminated the room and silhouetted his long muscular frame as he bent over and stared at the food. His jeans were covered with mud, and she noticed he was in his stocking feet.

She felt a stab of sympathy, knowing he'd been out since dawn. She considered postponing the talk she wanted to have with him, but it couldn't wait. She had to know.

“There's a plate of chicken on the top shelf,” she said quietly.

He glanced at her over his shoulder. “Thanks.”

She watched as he grabbed the plate, then closed the door. The room was dark now, except for the soft glow of the stove light, and he stood there, watching her. Waiting.

How strange, she thought. Three days ago she'd spent the night with this man, made love to him. Now they were like two strangers. She folded her arms tightly, forcing back the pain that sliced through her. “You've had a long day,” she said awkwardly.

He moved to the table and sat. “The fence was down again between Sam's and my place, and I had a pump fail at one of the watering stations. I had to run the water manually.”

She made her way across the room, wondering why neither one of them had turned on the light. “Emma and I had lunch with Myrna today.”

He gave a snort and bit into a chicken leg. “I'd take my day over yours anytime.”

At least he still had some sense of humor left, even if it was sarcasm. “Jake, I need to talk to you.”

His shoulders stiffened for a fraction of a second, then he reached for his soda and took a long drink. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and stared at her. “So talk.”

Savannah sighed and sat in the chair opposite him. “It's just that, well, Emma—”

He started to rise out of his seat. “So help me, if that woman said one word to Emma, I'll—”

“No.” She shook her head. “That's not what I'm trying to say.”

He settled back down in his seat, but his dark gaze locked with hers. “It's been a long day and I'm tired. Myrna's the last subject I care to discuss. Just say it, Savannah.”

She drew a deep breath. “Do you have any intention of obtaining custody of Emma?”

His eyes narrowed. “What?”

She could see the anger building in him, but it didn't matter. She had to hear him say it. She needed him to look her in the eyes and tell her Myrna was wrong. “I have to know, Jake. Would you try and take Emma away from me?”

He leaned back in his chair and looked at her. “What judge would give a single man, living this far out, custody of a nine-year-old girl?”

He hadn't answered her question, only asked one of his own. “That situation could change at any moment.”

“Highly unlikely,” he said dryly, then added, “But I suppose you never really know about tomorrow, do you? There might be a woman or two who might not mind living out here.”

She winced under the sharp sting of his words. She knew that there were plenty of women who wouldn't mind living with him under his conditions and that he could easily find someone to fill the job. She just hadn't realized he'd be so cruel as to throw it in her face.

Damn.
Why hadn't she waited to have this conversation? Waited until she wasn't feeling so open, so vulnerable?

She started to rise, intending to put as much distance between her and Jake as possible, but his hand snaked out and pulled her back. He let out a long heavy sigh. “I'm sorry,” he said quietly. “Sit down.”

She sat stiffly, but said nothing, just stared at him with her chin held high.

“Tell me exactly what Myrna said,” he asked. When she looked away from him, he added, “Please.”

She looked down at his hand wrapped around her wrist. His palm was dry and rough, and the texture against her own smooth skin sent shivers up her spine. “That you would have control over Emma's land if she was in your custody. You wouldn't have to worry about it being sold.”

“I suppose she told you that right after she offered to buy it?”

Savannah nodded.

“Right.” He pulled her closer to him. “What else did she say?”

“She said I should be careful of you. That you'd served your ex-wife divorce papers without warning, and you'd serve Emma's custody papers to me the same way.”

Jake's fingers tightened around Savannah's wrist. He was looking at her, but she had the distinct feeling he wasn't seeing her, that he was somewhere else,
with
someone else.

“Jake,” she gasped when his grip became unbearable.

He blinked, then quickly released her. Pushing himself away from the table, he stood and stared down at her. “I'm sorry you still don't trust me,” he said quietly, then walked out of the room.

Her heart ached as she watched him go.

C
actus Flat Roundup had been a tradition in the town for the past sixty-two years, ever since local rancher Levi Harper, a New York City immigrant, offered to pay fifty dollars for “the best danged bull in the county.” The tradition not only broke up the long hot monotony of the summer, it also provided the contestants in everything from the “best danged rooster” to the “best danged apple pie” with a little extra cash.

And a little extra cash was something Jake was sorely in need of.

He tried not to think about that now as he watched the younger residents of Cactus Flat County parade their entries in the calf competition. There were at least twelve participants, and Emma marched proudly around the covered arena, a determined glint in her blue eyes and a confident swing in her ponytail as she tugged a reluctant Betsy behind her.

She was a Stone, all right, he thought with a grin.

As she passed by him, smiling broadly, Jake also tried not to think about the water pump that had failed and was going to cost twelve hundred dollars to replace. Or the two truck tires that had gone flat the day before yesterday. Tires that were only one year old.

If he didn't know better, he'd swear that someone was intentionally sabotaging him.

Myrna, perhaps? She'd never pulled any punches about wanting his land. Maybe she thought that by systematically wearing him down financially, she might succeed. And the way things were going, she just might be right.

He nearly laughed at the thought. Even Myrna wouldn't stoop that low.

There was Sam, too. He'd been wanting to expand his ranch for years and had offered to buy Stone Creek after J.T. had died. He'd have a lot to gain.

Jake pressed his lips tightly together. No. No matter what had passed between Sam and himself, he still didn't believe that the man was responsible for any of the problems at the ranch.

Damn.
He shook his head and rubbed a hand over his face. He was getting downright paranoid. It was bad luck, that was all. Something he seemed to have a nasty case of lately.

Especially when it came to Savannah, he thought grimly, tipping his hat away from his face as he watched her make her way toward him from the other side of the arena.

She was smiling as she approached, something he hadn't seen her do for several days—not since the morning after they'd made love. Her green eyes were bright with excitement, her cheeks flushed with delight. He felt a sharp stab of pleasure, then a longing so intense his breath caught like chickweed in his throat. When she moved beside him, he caught the faint scent of peaches. It took a will of iron to stop himself from pulling her against him and kissing her senseless.

“So what do you think?” she said breathlessly. “Do we have a chance?”

Her words stopped him cold. Then he realized she was talking about Emma and Betsy. He tore his gaze away from Savannah and glanced over at his sister and the calf, lined up for inspection in front of the judges. “There's always a chance.”

Savannah moved closer to Jake, making room for a spectator beside her. The short sleeve of her white blouse brushed against his denim shirt, and the simple meeting of fabric between them had his heart pounding as if the contact were bare skin. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead, and he reached up to swipe them away, thankful to break the connection of their clothing.

“She's going to be terribly disappointed if they don't win,” Savannah said, oblivious to his discomfort. “Do you think you could say something to cheer her up if necessary?”

Disappointments were a fact of life, he thought soberly, then felt like kicking himself for being a complete idiot. Emma had already had more than her share of disappointment. He nodded stiffly, but he hadn't a clue what he would say. “Sure.”

The judges, two elderly gentlemen in identical gray suits, whom Jake knew as the Simpson twins, stood in front of the children and called for everyone's attention. The crowd went quiet and all the children, wide-eyed, stood stock-still. Savannah laid her hand on Jake's arm and squeezed. Her touch distracted him for a moment, but as the names were being called out, he forced his attention to the center of the arena.

Second and first runners-up were named. Neither one was Betsy.

“And the first-place blue ribbon goes to...”

The judge paused dramatically. Jake held his breath. Savannah's fingers tightened on his arm and instinctively he covered her hand with his.

“Emma Roberts and Betsy of Stone Creek Ranch.”

With a shriek of delight, Savannah threw her arms around Jake. He laughed and hugged her, then whistled his congratulations to Emma, who was smiling as she hugged Betsy. Jessica and Jared cheered from across the arena.

“That's my little sister,” Jake said to a man standing next to him. The man nodded appreciatively, and when Jake looked back at Savannah, the smile on her face had him tightening his arm around her.

Strange how right it felt to share even the smallest joy with her. How easy and how good. And when she lifted her gaze to his, he drew her closer to him. He smiled slowly, and her eyes turned smoky green as he dropped his gaze to her mouth. Her lips parted and she leaned into him—

“Jake! Aunt Savannah!” Emma called and waved to them. “Come look at Betsy's ribbon!”

Sighing silently, Jake pulled away. Savannah smiled at him, and he shook his head as he took her hand and led her across the arena. Jared and Jessica had already congratulated Emma, who stood ramrod straight beside Betsy as their picture was taken for the
Cactus Flat Gazette.

The crowd was beginning to disperse when a barrel-chested cowboy in dusty black boots and worn hat approached Jake. “You Jake Stone?” the man asked.

Jake nodded.

“Carl Potter. Bar M.” They shook hands. “You got a minute?”

“Sure.” Jake reluctantly let go of Savannah's hand. “I'll be right back.”

Savannah watched Jake leave, her senses still on overload from being in his arms. He'd almost kissed her, and her heart was still beating double-time from the anticipation. Her head told her she was a fool because she'd wanted him to, but her heart told her head to shut up.

Jessica and Jared led Betsy back to her pen while Emma ran off to show Amy her blue ribbon. Smiling, Savannah found a quiet place in the now deserted stands and sat to wait—more anxiously than she cared to admit—for Jake to return.

She and Emma would be leaving in a week. Seven days to be exact. She tried to tell herself that once she and her niece were home and school started, they'd both be fine. Life would settle down and they'd get on with their lives, even without Jake. She knew she was doing the right thing, not only for herself, but for Emma.

So why didn't that ease the pain in her heart?

“I seen the youngun' got her blue ribbon.”

Savannah jumped at the sound of the gravelly voice behind her. It was Digger. She smiled at him. “She's already run off to show her friends.”

The wooden bench bowed beneath the large man's weight as he sat beside her. “Her pa would've been proud of her,” he said quietly. “And Miss Angie, too.”

Angie?
Did he mean Angela? Surprised, Savannah looked at the man. “Did you know my sister, Mr. Montgomery?”

“I'm not much on formalities, Savannah. Digger'll do.” He tipped back his hat and placed his hands on the worn knees of his jeans. “Yes, ma'am. I knew your sister. She used to eat at my place when she was living here in town. J.T. and her used to sit at the corner table and go over the blueprints for Myrna's house.”

“Digger, how—” Savannah stopped herself, then looked away, watching a small dust devil kick up the dirt as it danced over the arena. It wasn't an easy thing, asking a near stranger about her sister's love affair with a married man. When she turned back, Digger was watching her, his gray eyes soft.

“You can't stand between the raindrops when a thunderstorm hits,” he said gently. “Some folks might try, but they get wet, anyway.”

He'd understood exactly what she'd been thinking, Savannah realized with relief. And she understood his analogy perfectly. She'd fought her attraction to Jake since day one, and it hadn't done one bit of good. She'd still fallen in love. Hopelessly and completely. Just as Angela had.

Savannah stared at Digger's hands. His fingers were long and weathered, his knuckles swollen from years of work. He was an honest man. A good man. One who made no judgments about his friends. Instinctively she liked him.

The distant sound of a loudspeaker announced that the ladies' baked-goods competition had begun, and the smell of apple pies permeated the hot afternoon air. It was a simple way of life here. One she knew she could get used to. She already had. And the idea of leaving created an empty hollow ache inside her.

She looked back at Digger. There was one question she had to ask. She had to know the answer. “Was J.T., I mean...did he...”

“He loved her.” Digger nodded firmly. “There're some things a man's eyes tell that he might never say, but he just about went crazy after she disappeared. If he'd known she was carrying his little one, nothing in the world would have stopped him from finding her.”

“You mean, he didn't know?”

Digger shook his head. “He was a bitter man from the day your sister left. After nine years he decided he had to know the truth and he hired that P.I. fellow to find her. That's when he found out about the baby.”

He hadn't known about Angela's being pregnant.
Relief poured through Savannah.

“It was the first spark of life I'd seen in him since she'd left.” Digger covered Savannah's hand with his and she was amazed at how gentle his touch was. “Neither one of them planned what happened, Savannah. He loved your sister more'n life itself, that same kind of love he had for Jake's mama. He was a lucky man to have that twice in his life. Some folks don't even find it once.”

I've found it,
Savannah thought with an ache in her chest. And she wasn't able to do anything more about it than her sister had.

“Aunt Savannah!”

Savannah jumped up at the sound of Emma's sob. She was running across the arena, her face streaked with tears. Frowning, Digger stood as Savannah ran out to her niece.

“Emma, what's the matter?”

“Amy's brother...Betsy...gone...”

Emma was crying so hard Savannah couldn't understand her.

Jake came running toward them then, his face a tight knot of worry.

“What's wrong?” He knelt beside Emma.

“Jake.” Emma threw her arms around him. “Keith, Amy's brother, said that the blue-ribbon cows get sold to be killed and eaten and I told him he was a liar, but Betsy is gone and I can't find her. It's not true, is it? No one's going to kill Betsy and make patty out of her, are they?”

Savannah watched the helpless expression that crossed Jake's face and felt a sense of horror. It
was
true. She could tell by the look in his eyes.
Oh, God.
She hadn't realized. That was where Jake had gone—to sell Betsy. He was a rancher. That was his business. And she knew how desperately he needed the money.

“Emma,” Savannah said gently. “Come here, Pecan. We need to talk.”

“I don't want to talk!” Emma shoved Jake away. “I want Betsy!”

She ran back toward the holding pens, and Savannah saw the stricken look on Jake's face as he watched her go. She touched his arm and he turned to look at her. The pain in his eyes cut into her heart.

“I've already made the deal and he took the calf,” he said helplessly. “I never thought... It never dawned on me—”

“I'll talk to her, Jake. She'll be fine.”

“She'll hate me,” he said quietly.

“No. She'll get over it.”

His single swear word was earthy and to the point. Jaw tight, he walked stiffly away.

Savannah watched him go. She had no idea what she was going to say to Emma. With a weary sigh, she turned and went to find her niece.

* * *

The moon was no more than a slice of silver late that night. One wispy cloud hung beneath the brilliant crescent like a filmy garment on a closet hook, and stars, more than anyone could count, lit the midnight blue sky.

It never ceased to amaze Savannah how beautiful it was here. She stood at Emma's open bedroom window, staring out into the darkness. It was quieter out here, calmer. Certainly less complicated than the city.

Less complicated, that was, if you didn't count her falling in love with Jake and Emma's losing Betsy.

Emma had refused to talk to Jake on the ride home from town and had run to her room the minute they'd pulled up at the ranch house. Jake had knocked on her door once, but Emma told him to go away. And he had. He'd gotten back in the truck and torn off, spewing dirt and rocks with his back tires. It was almost eleven o'clock and he still hadn't come back.

With a sigh Savannah turned and crossed to Emma's bed. Her niece had cried herself to sleep, and even now her slumber was troubled. Savannah had told Jake that Emma would get over it, but he hadn't believed her any more than she'd believed it when she'd told herself she'd get over Jake.

A quiet knock at the door startled her. It opened slowly.

“Emma” came a quiet whisper. “Are you awake?”

It was Jake. Thank God. Relief swept through her. The way he'd left here, she'd worried that he was lying half-drunk in a ditch somewhere. She moved toward him, a finger to her lips. “She's sleeping.”

“Wake her up.”

“She just got—”

At the sound of a bell ringing, Savannah stopped. She realized that Jake had a rope in his hand. He swung the door open wide.

Betsy!

Savannah's hand flew to her mouth and she smothered a gasp. The calf, obviously tired from its busy day, stood in the hall, head drooping, but no worse for wear. Savannah looked sharply at Jake. “But...how? Where...?”