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“I hear you’ve been doing an outstanding job,” he said. “The board is pleased with your work. And your dedication. You’ve put in some long hours.”
“Thank you. I enjoy what I do. And the overtime keeps me busy.”
“Glad to hear it.” He gestured to Daisy, and the waitress came right over. “I’d like a cup of coffee, darlin’, and bring Jenny a piece of that tasty apple pie.”
“Thanks, but—” Jenny tried to protest, but Archy cut her off, giving Daisy more instructions.
“Don’t mind her, just bring the pie. And be sure to put everything, including that rabbit food she ate for lunch, on my tab.”
Daisy obeyed his command. Within minutes Jenny had a fresh-baked dessert sitting in front of her.
“It’s delicious,” she said after she’d taken a bite.
“Nothing beats a slice of warm apple pie. Now tell me, Jenny, have you made some friends in Mission Creek? Working overtime is fine, but socializing is important, too.”
“I…” She stalled to take a much-needed breath. “I had dinner with a neighbor last night.” With your son, she added silently.
“That’s good. Now the reason I stopped by was to let you know the club is hosting a spring ball, and you’ll be receiving an invitation.” He lifted his coffee, his eyes on hers. “I can arrange an escort for you, if you’d like. Unless, of course, you’ve already made the acquaintance of an appropriate young man.”
Momentarily stunned, she stuck her fork into the pie, trying to gather her wits. A spring ball? An appropriate young man?
Like Hawk?
Jenny tried not to panic. No, not like Hawk. She couldn’t ask him to a ball his father had invited her to. Nor could she dance with him. She was barely handling the first few stages of friendship.
“This would be good business,” Archy said, sensing her apprehension. “You’ll rub elbows with all the right people.”
People who might hire her for future projects, she realized. Yes, it was good business, but she couldn’t do it.
“It’s still a month away,” he added. “So you’ve got time to buy a fancy dress and go to the beauty parlor or whatever it is you women do to make men fall at your feet.”
She managed a weak smile. “I’m flattered by the invitation, but I’m not much for parties.”
Archy shook his head. “You’re too pretty to be a wallflower.”
And she was too edgy to date. “I’m still getting settled in. New town. New people. I’m just not ready for a ball.”
“All right. But if you change your mind, the offer still stands.”
The pie hit her stomach like a rock. She had the feeling Archy wasn’t going to let this lie. He would continue prompting her for the next few weeks.
Maybe he thought it was his duty to bring her out of her shell, to introduce her to Texas society.
The older man had taken her under his wing since the day she’d arrived on the job, guiding her in a paternal fashion.
And she had been touched by his kindness, by the softness she saw in his eyes.
But things seemed complicated, now that she’d met his illegitimate son.
Jenny worked another long day. When she pulled into her driveway, dusk had fallen.
She sat in her car for a moment, then decided she wouldn’t be able to relax until she told Hawk about her association with his father.
Although she wasn’t certain that their budding friendship could take the strain, she knew it was the right thing to do.
She’d promised to form her own opinions of Hawk, not judge him on the basis of hearsay, and he owed her a similar courtesy. She’d met Archy before she even knew Hawk existed. She wasn’t betraying one for the other.
Jenny knocked on his door, expecting to hear the puppy bark. But when Hawk answered her summons, wearing nothing but a pair of jeans, she lost her composure.
His hair, long and damp, was combed away from his face, making the sharp talons in his ears stand out even more. His chest, broad and bare, exposed a knee-weakening display of muscle. She didn’t dare peek at his stomach.
“Jenny,” he said. “You look great.”
“Thank you.” She smoothed her jacket. She wore a professional beige suit, the skirt riding several inches above her wobbling knees. Her blouse and pumps were beige, as well. The only spot of color was a blue silk scarf. She knew it matched her eyes.
She didn’t comment on how he looked. What did one say to a half-naked man?
“Come in.” He stepped away from the door, and she entered his house.
She tried to relax, but couldn’t quite manage it. She hadn’t expected to catch him fresh from the shower.
“Where’s Muddy?” she asked.
“Asleep. He tired himself out, chewing half the pillows in the house. I might have to crate him during the day. Or bring him to the barn, I suppose. He’d probably get into less trouble there.” Hawk gestured for her to sit. “Do want you a soda? Or a beer or anything?”
“No.” She glanced at the couch, but couldn’t bring herself to sit. “If this is an inconvenient time, Hawk, I can stop by tomorrow.” When his hair wasn’t damp. When he wore more clothes. When she could think clearly.
“I wasn’t doing anything. You’re welcome to stay. I’m just going to grab a beer. Are you sure you don’t want anything?”
“Yes, I’m sure.”
She sat primly on the edge of the couch, and he returned with a bottle of Mexican beer.
“Is something wrong?” he asked.
“No.” She shook her head, then glanced around the room. He’d given the house a cabin-type feel, with rough woods and animal skins. His moccasins were tossed in a corner, and an end table was littered with old newspapers. Masculine clutter, she supposed, although she didn’t have any experience with it. Roy had been fanatical about keeping things tidy.
She spotted a framed photograph on another small table. The little boy in the picture had to be Hawk, the woman holding him, his mother.
Rain Dancer.
The name fit. She was the most exotic-looking woman Jenny had ever seen. One could imagine her dancing in the rain, her jet-black hair glistening beneath the moon.
No wonder she’d bewitched Archy.
She was spellbinding.
Jenny turned to find Hawk watching her. He’d taken a chair near the fireplace. His jaw was set in a tight line, his eyes suddenly more black than brown.
“Did Mrs. Pritchett say something about me again?” he asked. “Or about my mother?”
“No. I haven’t seen Mrs. Pritchett. But I spoke to your father today. Archy Wainwright is a business associate of mine.”
Hawk didn’t move, not one muscle. He didn’t even blink. “A business associate?”
“Yes.” Jenny folded her hands on her lap. Suddenly the room seemed smaller, the walls more compact. She wished there was a window open, a shift of air. “I’m an interior designer. I came to Mission Creek to work with the architect on the renovation of the new wing at the Lone Star Country Club. And now that it’s complete, I’m redecorating some of the original guest rooms.”
“And what do you think of good old Archy?” he asked, one corner of his mouth lifting in a cynical smile.
“I like him,” she answered honestly. “He’s been very kind to me. I landed the Lone Star Country Club contract because of him. He recommended me to the architect.”
Hawk took a swig of his beer, but his eyes were still dark and unyielding. “How did Archy become familiar with your work?”
“I was the designer on a chain of steak houses in Utah. Archy is affiliated with the owner.” She continued to keep her hands clasped on her lap. “I won an award for that project. For the authenticity and creativity of the Old West theme.”
“Have you told him I’m your neighbor?”
“No.” She felt as though she was being interrogated for a crime. “I didn’t feel it was my place. I don’t know anything about your relationship with your father, Hawk.”
“I don’t have a relationship with him. He’s never acknowledged me as his son. Surely Mrs. Pritchett told you that much.”
“Yes, but if you want to tell me your side of the story, I’m more than willing to listen.”
“What’s the point?” He pulled on the beer again. “It won’t change your mind about Archy.”
At a standstill, they stared at each other.
Jenny took a ragged breath and made the first move. “You’re the first person I’ve met in a long time that I thought I could be friends with. I’m not very social, and…” She paused to study his hardened features, stopping herself before she told him too much, before she admitted that she wasn’t allowed to have friends in the past, that her acquaintances consisted of Roy’s peer group.
“I don’t see how we can be friends,” Hawk said. “Not with the way you feel about Archy.”
She stood, the wobbly feeling coming back to her knees. “I know. But I can’t make myself dislike him.” The opportunity Archy had given her to come to Texas had changed her life. It had allowed her the chance to escape, to start over somewhere new.
Because Hawk remained silent, she walked to the door. “I should go home now. I’m tired and hungry.” And hurting. She hadn’t realized how important Hawk had become until this moment.
Their blossoming friendship had given her a glimmer of hope, a belief that they shared something unique. That she could spend more carefree evenings eating pizza and chatting with a man who wasn’t asking more from her than she was capable of giving.
But now he wanted her to choose sides, to pick him over his father.
It was an unfair demand and one she refused to be forced to make.
Jenny raised her chin and left Hawk’s house, determined to prove her point.
But as soon as she reached her front door, the familiar threat of tears stung the back of her eyes, reminding her of how lonely and isolated she really was.
Hawk hadn’t seen Jenny for nearly a week. And now he stood by the bed of his truck on a quiet Sunday morning, wondering what to do with the flat of flowers he’d purchased for her.
He’d gotten them to replace the geraniums Muddy had torn from the ground, but he didn’t know whether to leave them on Jenny’s porch or just go ahead and plant the damn things.
Hawk glanced at the dog. Muddy was loose on the lawn, playing in the grass, staying out of trouble for once.
He lifted the cardboard flat, deciding he’d leave them on Jenny’s porch. Why deprive her of the joy of arranging them? She liked planting flowers, and he would probably bungle the job, anyway. He didn’t mind mowing the lawn or pulling weeds, but decorative gardening eluded him.
Hawk carried the load with ease—until he reached Jenny’s steps, where he nearly stumbled.
She sat on the porch, occupying the swing, pretty as a spring picture. A simple white cotton dress draped her ankles, and her hair was loose and just a little bit messy.
He set the flowers near the rail.
“You didn’t have to do that,” she said.
“I told you I would replace them.”
Their eyes met, and for instant, he imagined touching her hair. A wild strand blew across her face, as rebellious as the South Texas wind.
He could smell the enticing aroma of citrus groves stirring in the air. Or was the fresh scent coming from Jenny?
Hawk wanted to tell her that he missed her, but he couldn’t bring himself to say something like that. They barely knew each other. He had no business missing her.
He frowned and she glanced away. She looked so damn vulnerable, so lost.
Like a dove with damaged wings.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
Her gaze shot back to his. “For what?”
“For being an ass.” Why did women always make men explain themselves? Why wasn’t “I’m sorry” ever taken at face value? “For getting ticked off about your business association with Archy.”
“You’re not angry because he recommended me for a job. You’re angry because I like him.”
Hawk frowned again. He couldn’t stand the thought of Archy influencing her life. It just gave him one more reason to hate the man.
Frustrated, he fantasized about kicking the porch rail and splintering the wood, but he held his temper. He wouldn’t let Archy rule his emotions.
“We should spend more time together, Jenny.”
Her eyes grew wide. “We should?”
“Yeah. If you’re still willing, I want to be friends.”
“I’m still willing.”
“Good.” When he sat beside her, the swing creaked. She smiled shyly at him, and he inhaled her fragrance.
“It is you,” he said.
“What’s me?”
