A Real Cowboy Never Says No (3 page)

She stole a glance at him as he watched the gathering congregation. He started to take his cowboy hat off, then he saw AJ's dad glaring at him. He immediately dropped his hand, leaving the hat in place as he shot a silent, unrelenting stare at AJ's dad. Her heart softened with the realization that Chase had gone against his instincts and left the hat on in a silent statement of solidarity with AJ, and his enduring battle to survive his controlling, abusive father. The hat would infuriate Alan, and it would make AJ's presence real at his funeral.

It was perfect, and she wanted to cheer at Chase's willingness to stand up for AJ in this church full of Alan's minions. His white shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, showing a gold chain against his tanned skin. He was rough and untamed, the antithesis of everyone in the church. It was weird to feel so comfortable with a complete stranger, but they weren't really strangers. AJ had connected them, and she knew that Chase was the only other person in the world that AJ had truly cared about. AJ's faith in Chase meant she could trust that he was a good guy.

He bent his head slightly toward her, but didn't look at her. "Is that Thurston? AJ's brother?"

She looked toward the front to where Alan and Thurston were talking with the minister. "Yes. They pulled him out of rehab to attend the service."

Chase laughed softly. "Alan must be angry as hell that AJ died before the old man could force him into the family business. Thurston will ruin the company if he ever takes over."

"I know." She shared his amusement. "AJ would appreciate that."

Chase glanced over at her, still smiling. Her heart skipped a beat at how handsome he was. She hadn't noticed a man for a very long time. The last thing she'd have expected was to be attracted to Chase Stockton, but she definitely was. It was a little unnerving, but her reaction also gave her hope that the part of her that was a woman was still alive inside her, and someday, she might even come back to life.

Chase leaned back against the pew, shifting his legs. The movement made his arm brush against her shoulder, and she stiffened, not sure whether she should pull away. A part of her didn't want to retreat, but the feel of his shoulder against hers was so distracting she couldn't focus on anything else. She pretended to cough, and used the movement as a way to reposition herself without making it look like she'd done it on purpose.

"Well, that's one thing that AJ can die knowing he did right," he said, apparently not noticing her strategic shift.

She raised her eyebrows. "What's that?"

"He never had kids that his father could get his claws into. Remember what AJ used to say? He'd never bring a child into this world so that Alan could destroy it. Alan's stuck without a decent heir, and his business is going to die because of it. Can you imagine if AJ had left behind a kid?" He whistled softly. "His widow would have had no chance of keeping the kid safe from Alan."

Mira felt the blood drain from her face, and she instinctively clutched her belly.

Chase's eyes sharpened, and his gaze shot to her hand, and then back to her face.

She froze, her heart pounding, as she frantically tried to think of a casual response.

Nothing came to her. Her mind was utterly blank.

"AJ lived in Boston," Chase said slowly, as if measuring every word. "Not here."

She nodded, her mouth bone dry as she forced herself to take her hand off her stomach. "Right."

"He never came home to visit," Chase continued with a casualness she didn't believe. "He despised everything in this place, except for you."

She managed a smile. "Yeah, I know."

Silence, but he didn't take his penetrating gaze off her. "Did you ever go there?" he finally asked. "Visit him in Boston? Recently, perhaps?"

"No," she said quickly. "My mom's been an invalid for the last eight years, as I'm sure you know. I was her caretaker until she died a few weeks ago. I couldn't ever leave town. She needed constant care." Her voice broke unexpectedly at the thought of her mother, and she turned away, clenching her hands in her lap. "The service is starting," she said, her voice snappier than she intended.

She focused intently on the minister, her lips pressed tightly together as she fought not to cry.

"Two funerals in a month? I didn't know your mom had died." Chase's voice was soft now, as were his eyes. "I'm so sorry, Mira. I know how much she meant to you."

She glared at him. "Don't be nice, unless you like it when a woman bursts into tears and sobs uncontrollably all over your crisp white shirt," she hissed.

His eyes widened in the moderate terror she'd expected, and he closed his mouth, cutting off his next question.

She folded her arms across her chest, her eyes blurring as she tried to listen to a bunch of strangers talk dispassionately about her best friend, and as she tried not to notice that Chase was intently watching
her
, and not paying any attention to the service at all.

Chase had absolutely intended to leave town once the church service was over.

There had been no chance he was going to go to the highbrow after-funeral gala and socialize with the bastards who had driven AJ out of town.
No chance.
He had no time for people who were superficial, drank too much, and cared about nothing but themselves and their own agendas.

And yet, there he was, leaning moodily against one of the white pillars, watching Mira circulate through the lavishly decorated ballroom. Her chin was held high, and her curls were bouncing. She was animated and charming in her conversations with people, but he wasn't buying it.

Whenever she had a moment to breathe, her shoulders slumped, and her face became lined with exhaustion and grief. She'd kept careful track of Alan, and had made sure not to run into him.

Chase had been watching the old man as well, and he knew that Alan was not going to let Mira leave without cornering her. He'd been watching her with dangerous hostility all night, a predator stalking his prey, waiting for the chance to isolate her.

Mira excused herself from her latest conversation, and started working her way toward the restroom. As Chase watched, she put her hand on her stomach.

That was the twenty-seventh time she'd done it in the last ninety minutes.

Shit.

He suddenly realized that Alan was striding across the floor toward her, his face determined. Chase jumped forward, almost sprinting through the crowd to get to Mira before Alan did.

They arrived at the same moment, but Alan didn't notice Chase's approach. He grabbed Mira's upper arm and jerked her to him. "I know my son came to town for your mother's funeral, and I know he stayed at your place. Two days later, he changed his will to give all his money to charity." He jerked her closer, ignoring her yelp of pain. "If I find out that you convinced him to change his will, I promise you will suffer—"

"Hey." Chase stepped between them, using his body to force the older man back. "Let go of her."

Alan stared at him, and his fingers tightened around Mira's arm. "Who the hell are you?"

Chase's hand balled into a fist instinctively. "Let her go," he repeated, his voice lethally soft. All the lessons he'd learned about violence from his piece-of-shit dad came rushing back, and his knuckles tingled, anticipating the impact before he even moved to strike.

The old man glared at him. For a long moment, they simply stared at each other, and then Alan's eyes widened, apparently seeing in Chase's eyes exactly the kind of no-good, bastard genes that ran through him.

With a low swear, Alan released Mira, shoving her back hard enough to make her stumble.

Chase caught her before she could fall, pulling her against him as she rubbed her upper arm. He could feel her trembling against him, and it made more anger roll through him. "Mira Cabot is under my protection," he said, an unspoken threat lacing his words. "Remember that."

Alan gave him a thin smile. "I own this town, cowboy. You remember that." He shot another vicious glare at Mira, and then spun on his heel. A woman draped in diamonds accosted him, and he graced her with a smile charming enough to win over the most bitter of old women.

"Bastard," Chase muttered.

"Thanks," Mira said, leaning into him for a brief moment.

He nodded, not taking his gaze off Alan, daring the old man to come back. "No problem. Glad I was here."

"Me, too." She paused, drawing his attention to her. There were circles beneath her eyes, and she looked exhausted.

He frowned. "Are you okay?"

"Fine. I just need to get out of here." She managed a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Thanks again. It was good to meet you. Have a good flight back to Wyoming." Dismissing him, Mira ducked past him, no longer heading for the bathroom, but for the exit. She was walking fast, not even noticing the people who tried to engage her in conversation.

Chase hesitated. He could let her go. He could allow her to walk out the door, and she wouldn't be his problem. He didn't trust women. Ever. He couldn't afford to take on her problems. He had rules that he hadn't strayed from for fifteen years. He'd made a promise, and he couldn't risk being derailed from it. Following Mira out that door was the wrong choice on every damn level... except for the fact that she was in trouble, she was AJ's best friend, and he owed AJ his life.

Shit. He had only one choice, didn't he?

Swearing, he jammed his hand into his pocket for his car keys, and followed her out the door.

Twenty minutes later, Mira slammed her car door shut, the sound reverberating in the dark night. She kicked off her high heels, and then broke into a run, her bare feet sinking into the damp grass. She didn't slow down until she got to the edge of the river.

The water was rushing, churning violently after the recent rainstorm. The familiar sound wrapped around her like a blanket, easing the tightness gripping her so ruthlessly. She slowed to a jog and then finally stopped beneath the huge willow tree on the edge of the river.

Her initials were carved into the trunk just below AJ's, and she traced her fingers over them, remembering how many times they'd hid by the river when his father was looking for them. The old pieces of wood they'd used for a ladder were still there, crookedly nailed to the tree trunk. AJ had been three years older than she, so she'd climbed that tree by herself many times after he left for college. It had always made her feel closer to him, despite the fact he was gone. Maybe it would work today as well.

She grabbed one of them, testing it. The wood was cracked and rotting a bit, but it seemed strong enough. Besides, what was the worst that could happen? That she'd fall a few feet to the muddy ground? Not exactly a mind-numbing tragedy.

Almost hoping for the distraction of a fall, she quickly pulled herself up the ladder they'd built for themselves so long ago.

A few seconds later, she was perched in the crook of the tree, her knees pulled to her chest. She took a deep breath, letting the damp air fill her lungs. She hadn't come here in so long, but suddenly, tonight, she'd had to return. She looked up into the starry sky, barely visible through the thick branches. How many nights had she sat in that tree, making wishes about a future that had never unfolded to match her dreams? "AJ," she whispered. "I don't know what to do. This was really bad timing for you to die, you know that, don't you?"

Of course he didn't answer. It was just a lonely, empty silence.

Headlights swept across the riverbank, and she glanced over her shoulder as a black pickup truck swung in beside her battered sedan. Stiffening, she sat up, watching as the driver's door opened. The broad-shouldered silhouette that emerged from the car was immediately recognizable, and it wasn't simply because of the cowboy hat. There was a lithe grace and rugged strength that emanated from Chase, as if he were a man who could barely contain his true self long enough to survive in polite society for an evening.

She nestled deeper into the crook of the tree as he scanned the area, then grimaced as he stepped into the grass and headed right for her. She watched with growing dread as he walked straight to the tree, and peered up at her. "Got space up there?"

His deep voice rumbled through her just as it had at the church. There was something so warm in his voice. It seemed to wrap around her like a blanket, at the same time it rolled through her belly like a searing kiss designed to make her insides burn. "Not really," she said. Between the shadows and the brim of his hat, she couldn't really see his face. "I'm not feeling sociable right now."

"Yeah, me either. I hate crowds of superficial bastards. They always make me cranky."

To her surprise, she found herself laughing, despite her cranky mood. "Okay, fine, you can come up, but I can't promise I'll be good company."

"No problem. I'm rarely good company myself." He swung up the ladder with the practiced ease of a man who was used to a physical life. He settled in beside her in the crevice that had always had plenty of room for her and AJ. Now, however, it felt cramped and tiny. Chase's shoulder was against hers, and there wasn't enough space for her to move away.

Then he leaned back against the tree trunk, adjusting so they weren't touching. Although she was grateful for the space, at the same time, a part of her wanted to inch just close enough to him to feel the heat of his body against hers, penetrating the cold that seemed to be buried so deeply inside her.

Chase clasped his hands behind his head and propped his feet up on another branch. He tipped his hat over his eyes, as if he were stretching out in a hammock for a nap instead of invading her personal space in a tree fifteen feet in the air.

He said nothing, and after a few moments, she began to relax. The night sounds returned to her. She listened to the roar of the river, the chirp of birds, and the rustling of the leaves in the tree. With Chase beside her, the moment felt complete. This place had been meant for two people, and she was used to a comforting male presence beside her.