Always a McBride (8 page)

The answer evaded him all night, frustrating the hell out of him. By the time the sound of Phoebe's alarm floated softly down the hall to him the next morning before dawn, he knew he had to put some space between himself and the lady, and damn soon, before he did something stupid—like kiss her again.

So he quietly dressed, then waited in his room for the arrival of the rental car, which was being delivered by nine that morning. He had some reading to keep him busy, some case work he'd brought with him to work on in the privacy of his own room. Concentrating, however, turned out to be a heck of a lot harder than he'd anticipated. Downstairs, Phoebe started breakfast, and soon the enticing scent of fresh-baked muffins drifted up the stairs. Without even closing his eyes, he could picture her moving quietly about the old-fashioned kitchen. She would be humming softly to herself, and she'd look as fresh as the summer morning. And after the way he'd kissed her last night, she could be dressed in a suit of armor and he'd still have a hard time not reaching for her.

Swearing softly, he realized he wasn't going to be able to wait for the delivery of the rental car before he got out of there. Not when she was so damn tempting.
His face etched in grim lines, he grabbed his cell phone and quickly punched in the number of the rental car agency in Colorado Springs and requested that the car be delivered to Ed's Diner instead of the bed and breakfast. A few minutes later, he quietly made his way downstairs and let himself out the front door.

In the kitchen, Phoebe had unconsciously been listening for his step on the stairs for an hour or longer, wondering all the while what she was going to say to him when they came face-to-face. She needn't have worried. Just as she pulled the muffins from the oven, she heard the front door shut. Surprised, she frowned. She'd known Taylor's rental car was being delivered that morning and that he would, no doubt, be out most of the day doing research on his book. After all, that's what he was there for. But what if his plans had changed after last night? With the delivery of his rental car, he would no longer be afoot. He didn't have to stay in Liberty Hill. He could go wherever his research took him.

She shouldn't have cared. She would be losing a guest, but that was the nature of the hospitality industry. People changed their plans all the time. There would be other guests, and with time, she'd forget all about him. It was probably for the best.

Yeah, right,
a voice drawled in her head.
So why do you suddenly feel as if you're going to cry?

She told herself she wasn't. She was fine. But even as she assured herself she didn't care what Taylor Bishop did, she checked to make sure nothing on the stove was in danger of burning, then hurried upstairs to his room.

It wasn't locked, and with a twist of her wrist, she pushed it open and took in the contents of the room in
a single glance. The room was neat as a pin—he'd even made the bed—and for a moment, it looked empty. Then she spied his suitcase in the corner. When her heart started beating crazily in her chest, she didn't know if she was relieved or not that he was still there.

E
d's Diner was packed with the lunch crowd, and there wasn't a spare seat in the place. Seated at the counter, the keys to his rental car in his pocket, Taylor finished the hamburger and fries he'd ordered, and could find no complaint with the food. In fact, for diner fare, it was damn good. After he'd left Phoebe's earlier that morning, he'd stopped there for breakfast, and it had been equally good. It couldn't, however, compare to what Phoebe whipped up in her grandmother's kitchen.

Just that easily, she slipped back into his thoughts, and he swore softly. After the rental car had been dropped off at the diner and he'd paid for his breakfast, he'd driven for hours, trying to get her out of his head. She hadn't made it easy for him. Hours after he'd kissed her, he'd still been able to feel the softness of her in his arms and taste her kiss. And that had only frustrated him more. He couldn't remember the last woman who had dominated his thoughts so easily.

Disgusted with himself, he considered finding another place to stay. Under the circumstances, it was the logical thing to do. Myrtle Henderson's house might be a huge, sprawling Victorian, but he and Phoebe were living there alone together and it had begun to feel damn small. He couldn't take a breath without breathing in her scent. Everywhere he turned in the house, he was aware of her. He'd never experienced anything like it in his life. He could even smell her on the damn sheets! It had to stop!

He'd go to Colorado Springs, he decided. He'd feel more like himself in a city. And now that he had the rental car, he didn't have to stay in Liberty Hill. He could commute back and forth, and use the driving time to concentrate on his reason for being there in the first place—the McBrides. Whenever Phoebe was anywhere within touching distance, he tended to forget that.

He didn't know how she'd gotten under his skin so easily. It wasn't as if she was flirting with him or seeking him out. In fact, he got the distinct impression that she wasn't any happier about this attraction between them than he was. So what the hell was the matter with him? He shouldn't have given her a second thought. Instead, she was all he could think of.

That would change as soon as he got a room in Colorado Springs, he assured himself confidently. He'd be able to sleep nights without her being right down the hall, distracting him just by breathing. Maybe then he could focus on the McBrides and how he was going to expose Gus to them for the bastard he was.

She's your ticket to the McBrides,
an irritating voice in his head reminded him.
They wouldn't have been nearly as quick to accept you if it hadn't been for
Phoebe's introduction. And don't forget, every invitation that they have extended to you has included Phoebe. How many more times do you think they're going to ask you to their house if you cancel your stay at their friend's bed and breakfast?

The answer to that was quick and irritating. None.

He had no choice but to accept the inevitable. Like it or not, he wasn't going to get very far with the McBrides without Phoebe. From what he had seen of his brothers and sisters, they were a loyal bunch and protective of friends and family. He was an outsider and someone they barely knew. If his leaving cost Phoebe money or in any way inconvenienced her, he doubted that the McBrides would extend another invitation to him, let alone let him get close enough to Sara to tell her the truth about her deceased husband and the man she no doubt thought had been faithful to her his entire life. The family would continue to think Gus was some kind of saint, and they'd never know the truth…all because Phoebe could, just by walking through his air space, make him forget his common sense.

It wasn't going to happen, he thought grimly. He'd resented his father for as long as he could remember, and he'd promised himself on his mother's grave that Gus McBride was going to pay for not being there for her. Gus might be out of his reach, but he would still see that his mother was avenged by telling the McBrides the truth about Gus. He didn't doubt that they would be hurt when they realized just how they'd been duped all these years, but their hurt couldn't compare to the lifetime of loneliness and poverty his mother had suffered because she'd made the mistake of giving her heart to
Gus. Let them all walk in her shoes, and then they'd talk about hurt.

“I was going to ask if I could join you,” a familiar male voice drawled in amusement, “but now I'm not so sure. You look like you could take somebody's head off if they looked at you wrong, and I'm kind of fond of mine.”

Jerking back to his surroundings, Taylor looked up with a scowl to find Joe McBride standing by the empty chair next to him, grinning down at him as if they'd known each other all their lives. Later, he knew that was going to bother him—how could the McBrides be so damn friendly when they didn't know a thing about him?—but all he said was, “Don't worry, your head's safe. It's somebody else's I'd like to take off. Pull up a chair. What are you doing in town at this time of day?”

“Buying some barbed wire,” Joe replied as he pulled out the chair across the table from Taylor and sank into it. “Some idiot drove through the fence down the road from Merry's office, and I've spent all morning rounding up cattle. It's time for a break. I've been thinking about Ed's chicken-fried steak all morning.”

The waitress appeared at their table then and didn't bother to hand him a menu. “The usual, Joe?” At his nod, she glanced and Taylor and smiled. “Sure I can't tempt you with a piece of chocolate pie? Ed's famous for it.”

“You won't regret it,” Joe told him with a grin. “I don't care what kind of fancy desserts you've eaten in California, you've never had anything like Ed's chocolate pie. If you don't believe me, ask Angel. She's got all her friends in Hollywood hooked on it.”

Taylor didn't care two cents about dessert, but he
wasn't about to pass up an opportunity to get to know Joe better and grill him about their father. Later, when Joe found out who he really was and why he was there, he would, no doubt, hate his guts for using him, but Taylor told himself he didn't care. His mother's feelings were the only ones he was concerned with, and even though he could no longer do anything to help her, he was holding the McBrides accountable for the years of loneliness and hardship his mother had suffered because of Gus.

“Okay,” he said, giving in. “It looks like I'm outnumbered. I'll have the pie.”

“Good choice,” she replied, giving him a wink. “I'll be right back with your order.”

When she took his empty plate with her, Joe commented, “I guess I don't have to ask how the food is at Myrtle's. From the time she was old enough to stand at the stove, Phoebe was always damn good in the kitchen. She should have gone to cooking school after she graduated from high school—she can do more with a handful of ingredients than anyone I know.”

“So why didn't she?”

“Because for as long as I can remember, her father groomed her to take over his business. She was an only child, and there was no one else to leave it to. She could have sold it when he died, of course, but she was grieving and I think she felt guilty. And that's a damn shame. Life's too short to do something you hate.”

Surprised, Taylor said, “I thought she worked for her grandmother. I didn't realize she had a real job.”

“You'd better not let her hear you say that,” he said with a laugh.

He didn't have to tell Taylor twice. Phoebe might
look like a flower child from the 60s, but from what he'd seen, she took her responsibilities seriously at her grandmother's place and worked hard to make sure it was a success. He didn't doubt that she worked just as hard or harder to make sure her father's business was successful.

“What kind of business is it?”

“Vending machines,” he replied with a grimace. “The money's good, but it sounds boring as hell. She has to collect the money every day, then count it and deposit it in the bank because she can't trust anyone else with that much cash.”

“So she's tied to the business all the time?”

Joe nodded grimly. “Pretty much. I think she has a cousin or someone who comes in for her when she's sick or on vacation, but according to Myrtle, she handles it completely on her own most of the time. Personally, I don't know how she stands it. If you knew Phoebe, you'd know that's just not her. I'm not saying she can't do it—she obviously can—but she'll never enjoy it. She likes people—taking care of them, making them feel comfortable, cooking for them. I just can't see her counting change at her kitchen table every night like a miser hoarding his money.”

Taylor couldn't either. As a lawyer, he worked with hard-nosed businessmen all the time, and their main goal in life was to do whatever they had to to make more money. They were cutthroat and ruthless and they would work sixty hours a week or more if they had to to increase their coffers. If Phoebe had to run with that pack to keep her business going, she'd get eaten alive.

“From what I've seen, she doesn't seem to care two cents about money,” Taylor said. “The first time I saw
her, I would have sworn she'd stepped out of some kind of time machine or something. It was during the middle of the storm on Tuesday night, and the lights were out. She opened the door to her grandmother's house holding a candle and I thought I'd stepped back into another century. It was weird, but she looked right at home. Has she always been like that?”

Joe grinned. “Always. That's why she loved spending the summers with Myrtle when she was a kid. The house was always filled with antiques, so she'd pretend she lived in the 1800s. Every night, she and Myrtle would cook dinner on the old wood stove on the back porch, then eat dinner by the light of an oil lamp. She loved it.”

Taylor couldn't blame her for that. It sounded like she'd had a magical childhood. “No wonder she volunteered to help her grandmother out. The two of them must be very close.”

“They are,” Joe replied. “Myrtle's great—she always has been. She taught Phoebe how to can peaches, and every summer, the two of them get together with my mother and sisters and make the best peach preserves you ever tasted. If she ever decides to sell her dad's business, she can operate a bed and breakfast with one hand behind her back. Hell, she even knows how to make soap!”

His eyes alight at the memory, Joe laughed. “Poor Phoebe. She got the recipe out of an old book of Myrtle's and tried making it in the backyard. Talk about a mess! You could smell it all over town, and trust me, it didn't smell anything like Irish Spring! We teased her about it for years!”

“She must have improved her recipe,” Taylor replied
with a crooked smile. “There's some soap in the bathroom across the hall from my room that smells like rainwater.”

“That's sounds like something she'd come up with. She always was a romantic.” Eyeing him quizzically, Joe frowned slightly. “But you're not, are you? So what
are
you still doing at Myrtle's? I know you had car trouble and temporarily needed a place to stay, but the Best Western in Colorado Springs seems more your speed. I was born and raised here and wouldn't want to live anywhere else, but a man like you must be bored stiff. There's not much to do around here during the day, let alone at night. The mayor rolls in the sidewalks at seven.”

Taylor froze at his words.
A man like you.
What kind of man did he think he was? Had he guessed that he wasn't who he claimed to be? He couldn't have, Taylor assured himself. He'd done nothing to give himself away. Joe was just curious, not suspicious.

Still, he felt like the word
liar
was tattooed on his forehead. His tone was casual, however, when he said, “Actually, I like the change of pace. It's quiet, and the research I need to do is here.”

“I'm glad you brought that up,” Joe said promptly. “What are you doing today?”

Avoiding Phoebe, Taylor thought, but he wasn't stupid enough to admit that. Instead, he lied, “Doing research at the library. Why?”

“I'm thought you might like to ride with me out to Leonard Cooper's ranch east of town. He's a crusty old goat, but I think you'll like him. He's a local history buff, and his great-great-grandfather was one of the original settlers of the area. He can probably give you
a lot of information for your book while I check out a bull he's got for sale.”

When Joe had volunteered last night to introduce him to the other ranchers in the area, Taylor hadn't really thought the offer was anything more than lip service. After all, the McBrides didn't know him—in spite of their kindness last night when he was their guest, people didn't go out of their way for strangers. Or at least the people he knew didn't.

So maybe you're hanging around the wrong people. You wanted to meet your family. This is who they are.

He didn't want to believe the voice in his head—he'd hated his brothers and sisters too long without even knowing for sure that they existed—but there was no doubting Joe's sincerity. His plan was working better than he'd ever imagined, he thought, stunned. In less than two days, he'd not only met his brothers and sisters, he'd got them to drop their guard and invite him into their lives. All he had to do now was wait for Sara to return, and then he was going to hit them all with the truth about Gus.

At the very least, he should have felt satisfaction. Instead, he found he didn't like himself very much at the moment.

“So, you want to go or not? I'm going, anyway, but I thought you might want to ride along. If you're busy, it's no big deal. Leonard's not going anywhere. You can meet him another time.”

“No!” he said quickly. “I can work at the library anytime. Let's go.”

 

Leonard Cooper
was
a character. And if Taylor had really been writing a book, he would have definitely
included the old man in it. He was a wealth of information—not only about his own family, but about the McBrides. The two families had been neighbors for well over a century, and Leonard was only too happy to tell him all about Gus and his parents, the grandparents Taylor knew nothing about.