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“The lemons I smell.”
“It’s another one of those body mists,” she responded, rocking the swing a little, her voice as shy as her smile. “I bought the variety pack.”
Suddenly Hawk got a craving for lemon meringue pie. Well, hell, he thought, maybe he wanted more than friendship. Maybe he wanted to explore the man-woman thing happening between them and see how good it felt to kiss her.
Silent, they both watched Muddy toss a new toy around Jenny’s yard. At some point the dog had followed Hawk onto her property.
“He plays fetch,” Hawk said. “But he’s not consistent. Sometimes he’d rather eat the ball.”
She laughed, but the silence that followed became awkward. That man-woman thing was creeping in, and he sensed it made Jenny uncomfortable.
She was attracted to him, but she didn’t want to be, at least not in a physical sense, he thought. But why?
“So you’re originally from Utah?” he asked, realizing he knew little about her.
“Yes. Salt Lake City.”
“Do you still have family there?” he asked.
“No.”
“How old are you?”
“Thirty. How old are you?”
“Thirty-three,” he responded, realizing getting Jenny to talk about herself wasn’t easy.
Well, one of them had to open up, he thought. “Do you still want to hear my side of the story?” he asked.
She turned to face him. “You mean about Archy and you and your mother?”
He nodded.
“Yes, I’d like that very much. I saw your mother’s picture. She was very beautiful.”
So are you, he wanted to say, still itching to touch her hair, to brush her bangs out of her eyes.
To kiss her.
When she blinked those stunning blue eyes, he cleared his throat.
“My mom worked at the Lone Star Country Club. That’s how she met Archy. She was a riding instructor. Of course, Archy didn’t need to learn to ride, but he was around the stables quite a bit.” Hawk paused, then explained further. “The Wainwrights and the Carsons used to own the horses at the club. And I suppose they still do. Have you met the Carsons?”
“Most of them. They’re the other family who established the club. I’ve heard there’s a feud between the Carsons and the Wainwrights.”
“Yeah, it’s been going on since 1927 or so.” And Hawk had been tempted to join the feud, to ally himself with the Carsons, to work on their ranch just to spite Archy. But he’d stayed away from both wealthy families. “Anyway, Archy and my mom had an affair. She knew he was married, but she’d been young and naive, just impressionable enough to believe he would leave his wife. Of course, he never had any intention of ending his marriage. When my mom told him she was pregnant, he refused to acknowledge that the child she carried was his.”
“What did Rain Dancer do?”
For a second Hawk only stared. He wasn’t aware that Jenny knew his mother’s name. “She left town and went to live with my grandmother in Oklahoma. We’re Chiricahua Apache. Most of the Chiricahua live on a reservation in New Mexico, but there is still a small number residing in the vicinity of Apache, Oklahoma.”
“So were you raised in Oklahoma? Did you come back to Mission Creek on your own?”
“No. My grandmother died when I was five, and Mom decided to return to Texas to introduce me to my father, to make another attempt to get Archy to acknowledge me.”
“She could have filed a paternity suit.”
“Yeah, she could have. But she was too proud to do that. Besides, this wasn’t about money. It was about honor. And love.”
Jenny smoothed a strand of her hair. She watched Hawk with a gentle expression, with compassion in her eyes. “Do you remember meeting Archy for the first time?”
“Yeah.” Hawk recalled it vividly. “He looked at me for the longest time. And for a moment I thought he was going to smile or ask me a question. Or shake my hand. But instead, he turned to my mom and said, ‘He’s not mine. Anyone can see that he’s not mine.”’
“I’m sorry,” she said.
Hawk blew out a tight breath. “When Archy walked away, my mother said, ‘He knows you’re his, and someday he’ll come forward and give you his heart.’ I wanted so badly to believe that.”
Muddy leaped up the porch steps and skidded onto the wood. Jenny leaned down to pick him up. As she resumed her seat, his dirty feet made marks on her clean white dress.
Content to be in her arms, the pup quit squirming and calmed down, settling into her lap. Hawk envied him the luxury, the warmth, the soft feminine touch.
“I can’t believe Archy did that to you,” she said, continuing their conversation. “He seems kinder than that.”
“I guess that’s what my mom thought, too.” But Archy had that effect on women, a charm they couldn’t seem to resist. Hawk knew better. “The one bright spot was that Archy’s wife left him when she found out about me. He didn’t get away with being a liar and a cheat. Of course, he blamed me for the destruction of his marriage, and so did his other children. Walking around with the Wainwright name isn’t easy, but I won’t give it up. My mom wanted me to have that name. In her eyes, it legitimized my birth.”
For a moment he thought about Archy’s recent challenge regarding his name. There was no point in mentioning that to Jenny, he supposed. He didn’t intend to hear from his dad again. “The Wainwrights are rich and powerful, so that makes people curious about me, too. But I’ve learned to deal with the gossip, with people like Mrs. Pritchett.”
Jenny stroked the dog. “Mrs. Pritchett said some awful things about you and your mother. The next time I see her, I’m going to tell her that she has no business spreading vicious rumors.”
“Thanks, but she won’t listen. She’s already formed an opinion of you now, too.” And that meant Jenny would become part of his world. “Being my friend isn’t going to be easy,” he said. “People will wonder about you. They might even make up stories about us. They’ll think I’m corrupting you.”
“I know,” she responded quietly.
Yes, he thought, she knew. But knowing might not be enough. If their relationship stirred up too much gossip, Jenny’s reputation could suffer.
Hawk hoped and prayed that he was worth the risk.
Four
A week later Jenny spent the morning at the Lone Star Country Club stables, wandering around the facility, hoping to feel some sort of connection to Hawk’s deceased mother. It seemed like an odd thing to do, but Jenny couldn’t help herself. She was curious about Rain Dancer, curious about the woman who’d given birth to Archy Wainwright’s illegitimate son.
Caught up in the moment, Jenny studied the breezeway barn, the fenced arena and the paths leading to South Texas riding trails. Spring bloomed in the air, carrying the scent of hay, horses and flowers.
Money bloomed in the air, too. The aura of wealth.
And Jenny stood in the center of it all, wondering about a woman who had worked there thirty-four years ago.
She couldn’t condone Rain Dancer’s affair with a married man, but she could picture her, young and naive, caught up in a world not her own.
Had she been in love with Archy? Had he simply swept her off her feet?
Maybe it had been the other way around. Maybe Rain Dancer had knocked Archy off his feet. Maybe the beautiful Apache had been everything his wife wasn’t.
Archy’s wife could have been staid and cold—the overly proper, calculating socialite. Then again, she could have been kind and loyal, someone her husband had treated like a doormat.
Either way, Archy Wainwright was becoming less and less of a hero in Jenny’s eyes. What he’d done to Hawk proved that he—
“Are you planning on riding today?” a masculine voice asked from behind her.
Jarred from her thoughts, Jenny turned to face the intruder.
“Archy?” For a moment she wondered if he was a figment of her imagination, an unwelcome apparition she’d conjured out of thin air.
He stood tall and broad, his gaze fixed steadily on her. The brim of his hat shaded his face, but his eyes crinkled warmly at the corners.
He looked fatherly somehow. Big and protective.
He moved closer, and she cursed her emotions. She wanted to hate him, to blame him for hurting Hawk, yet somehow she knew the older man cared about her.
It made no sense. How could he treat her like a daughter and turn his back on his son?
“I’m not riding today,” Jenny said finally. “I’m just touring the stables.” Searching for a connection to Rain Dancer, she added silently. Trying to satisfy her curiosity about Archy’s clandestine lover.
Was it a coincidence or a strange twist of fate that he’d shown up this morning?
“Have you toured the barn?” he asked.
“No, not yet.”
“Then allow me to be your guide. I’m familiar with the stock.”
He placed his hand on her shoulder. His touch was firm yet gentle. She thought about Hawk’s mother and Archy’s scorned wife, wondering if they had screamed and clawed at each other the way wounded women often did.
Jenny couldn’t imagine fighting over a man, but she knew how it felt to have someone break her heart.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“Just a little preoccupied.” What would he say if she told him what was on her mind?
He gave her shoulder a paternal squeeze and led her to the barn, alive with sights and sounds. Grooms went about their daily routines, and horses whinnied, as if chatting with their equine neighbors.
Archy gestured to a flashy bay. “If you decide to ride, I recommend a Wainwright mount.”
“As opposed to a Carson mount?” Jenny asked, knowing he was teasing about the notorious feud.
He laughed. “Why, of course.” His laughter faded, and he made a serious face. “Did you know that the Wainwrights and the Carsons have an heir? My oldest daughter married one of the Carson boys, and they just had a baby.”
Which, Jenny assumed, added even more fuel to the feud. Archy’s eyes held plenty of emotion.
“Congratulations,” she said, realizing Hawk was an uncle, as well. The Wainwrights might not accept him, but he was still their blood.
He grunted. “My new grandson is a fine boy, but I don’t know how in hell I’m supposed to share him with Ford Carson.”
“Very carefully,” she suggested, thinking about the baby she’d lost.
He turned to look at her. “You’re a nice girl, Jenny. Too nice, I suspect.”
She frowned at him. “What does that mean?”
“It means I’m worried about you.” He shifted his stance, his boots scuffing the ground. “Have you heard the rumors, the things people are starting to say? It’s a bunch of crap, I’m sure, but that doesn’t mean being talked about hurts any less.”
Because her palms turned clammy, she rubbed them on her jeans. “What rumors?”
“They say you’re having some wild, crazy affair.” Archy’s brow furrowed. “I don’t think it’s necessary to mention your alleged partner’s name. We both know who he is. And we both know he has a seedy reputation. He could ruin a nice girl like you.”
“He’s a good person,” Jenny defended. “He’s my friend.” And this conversation was making her uncomfortable. Needing a breath of fresh air, she headed for the door, passing a row of box stalls on her way out.
Archy followed, and they stood beneath the vast Texas sky, a warm breeze stirring between them.
“You have no right to warn me about him,” she said.
“So the gossip doesn’t bother you?”
“Of course it bothers me.” It made her stomach roil; she didn’t want to be the subject of lewd speculation. “But I’m not doing anything wrong. And Hawk,” she added, using the name Archy was avoiding, “isn’t taking advantage of me.”
The older man held up his hand. “Then I’ll back off. But I swear to you, little lady, if he hurts you, I’ll come gunning for him.”
Jenny didn’t respond, but apparently Archy didn’t expect her to. He walked away without another word, which told her she was trapped between the father and the son, between two men who hated each other.
Hawk checked his watch, wondering if Jenny would come outside tonight. Meeting on his porch while Muddy played on the lawn had become their neighborly routine.
And now he was worried that she wouldn’t show.
Muddy raced around the grass, darting in and out of the shrubs. He still wasn’t the most well-behaved critter, but he had a personality that made him more human than dog.
The pup barked, and Hawk came to his feet. That was Muddy’s “Hi, Mom” greeting, which meant Jenny had decided to join them, after all.
Hawk crossed the lawn, then stopped when he saw her.
Her hair was pinned up in a messy style, her feet were bare, and her dress caught the rays of the setting sun. She looked at one with the elements, like a rose blooming right before his eyes. For an instant Hawk thought he could see her spirit, the beauty that lived inside her.
And then the image was gone, burned away by the frown in her eyes.
He moved closer. “Evening, Jenny.”
“Hawk.” She sighed, and he knew her distress involved him.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
