Country Heaven (18 page)

Tory Simmons’ Simmering Family Cookbook

Chapter 10

T
ory was stirring scrambled eggs with a red spatula when Rye strolled into the kitchen. He’d gone for a run. His T–shirt was covered in sweat spots and his hair looked like he’d taken a shower. And he looked freaking sexy.

“Christ, it’s muggy out. Going to be bitchin’ hot today.” He pulled a bottle of water from the refrigerator and swigged the entire contents.

Tory turned back to the eggs, not wanting the zip of attraction that shot through her. She’d tossed and turned all night, her body still warm and flushed after their rendezvous in the kitchen. Today she was plain grumpy.

A black–and–white dog padded into the kitchen and headed straight for Rye. Her spatula clattered onto the counter, and she pressed herself against the cabinet, her heart rate spiking. The dog barked at her, revealing sharp teeth when it opened its mouth.

“Where’d that dog come from?” she rasped.

“It’s my Daddy’s hunting dog, Buster,” he said, petting the animal. “Our property manager, Mr. Pullins, takes care of him and the horses. Buster here kept me company on my run. Makes me miss my own dogs, but I know my pal J.P. is taking great care of them like he always does when I’m on tour.”

“Rye, could you please take the dog outside?” she whispered, her old fears making her hands sweat.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “What’s the matter?”

“I’m afraid of dogs.” She pressed her hand to her chest when it became hard to breathe.

Rye studied her for a moment. “Something happened, didn’t it?”

Her lips trembled as the memories rode in like an unwelcome guest. “My parents swerved to avoid hitting a German shepherd once.” She could still feel the cold glass of the window as she crashed into it. Hear her mother cry out in alarm.

Rye grabbed the dog by the collar when it tried to approach her. “What else?”

She gulped in air. “A tire blew. My dad lost control of the car. We hit a tree.”

“That must have been scary,” he said. “Keep going.”

She couldn’t take her gaze off the dog. Her ears were ringing, and sweat broke out on her temples. “My parents died on impact. The car didn’t have airbags.”

“Oh God, Tory. I’m so sorry.”

Her arms wrapped around her middle. For some reason, hearing him say the words meant more because it wasn’t perfunctory. “The dog didn’t go away. He came up to the car and started barking. Wouldn’t stop. I thought he was trying to hurt me. The police officer who found us later told me he was trying to help. They’re smart, he said, and the dog knew people were injured inside the car. Still, I couldn’t get out of my seatbelt for almost thirty minutes, I was later told, and the whole while I just heard him barking.”

Her hands had clawed at the belt until they were bleeding, and she’d screamed until she was hoarse. That was when she’d started crying, having realized her mom and dad couldn’t help her, would never be able to help her again. “Finally a car stopped, and an older man helped me out and then called the police. But even then the dog wouldn’t stop barking, and the man had to set me down and chase him off.”

Rye’s hand tightened around the dog’s collar. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am. Let me take him out, and I’ll be right back.”

She jumped when the dog let loose another bark. “It was a long time ago.” And she’d tried to work on her fear of dogs with one of the school’s counselors, but it hadn’t abated. While she knew it wasn’t rational, it didn’t matter. The old fear was always there, simmering beneath the surface.

He gave her one last look before turning to leave, and the look in his eyes made her feel like crying. She took slow, deep breaths and turned to stir the eggs.

His tennis shoes squeaked on the floor a few minutes later, and then his hands settled gently on her shoulders. He turned her around and brought her to his chest. Giving in, she nuzzled her face against his sweaty T–shirt. When he kissed her temple, she wanted nothing more than to curl into him and let him help her forget.

“My poor Tory,” he murmured.

The dam of her tears threatened to break, so she pulled back. “You’d best hit the shower. Breakfast will be ready in a few.”

Fortunately, he gave her space, only stopping to trace her cheek with one fingertip before leaving the room. She moved to the stove and turned the now overcooked eggs. When she dumped them on a plate, she leaned against the counter and watched the steam rise. Reining in her emotions was like pulling in a canoe during a storm, but after a few minutes, she managed to shove them into the box where she always stored them.

Tory made Rye a plate and decided to take a walk before he came out, wanting some air. When she opened the door, she scanned the yard for Buster. No sign of him. She tiptoed outside, only resuming her normal pace after she made her way past Rye’s truck.

The humidity and heat were suffocating. Sweat broke out on her upper lip and between her breasts. Swatting away mosquitoes the size of small birds, she walked to the gravel road that led from the house. Unlike Kansas, the shade from the trees didn’t make the heat any more palatable. Firming her shoulders, Tory scanned her surroundings, grateful for the distraction. The land was beautiful and lush, and there were about a thousand different shades of green. Ferns thrived in the natural hothouse, and moss grew around the bases of the trees and dripped from their bark. Branches towered over her, thick with leaves, blocking out the sun.

She hadn’t gone halfway down the road before realizing she’d need to shower when she returned. How did people function in this heat? Or before air conditioning? She remembered how Southern women constantly fainted in old movies, falling over in their hoop skirts and lace. As she trudged through the suffocating veil of moist air, she formed a new understanding of that phenomenon. Wearing a corset out in this heat could be an Olympic sport. Tory could barely breathe, and she wasn’t even cinched up.

She turned onto the main road. A shiny white BMW SUV slowed as it approached. Tory stepped to the side, eyeing it with caution. When she recognized Tammy through the windshield, she prayed she would pass and leave her in peace.

As the car came to a halt, Tory realized her luck hadn’t been so great lately.

***

Tammy forced her mouth to relax when she saw Tory power walking on Kraven Hill Road. What in the world! She hit the button to roll her window down. “Tory, what are you doing on the road? Someone could have hit you.”

The woman visibly shuddered before striding forward. “I was taking a walk.”

A walk? The woman seemed nice, but despite being educated, she didn’t have a lick of sense. It was sweltering out, and even if it hadn’t been, no one
walked
on the road. It just wasn’t done. Perhaps she hadn’t realized, since she was as out of place in Meade as a Kansas blizzard.

“Well, you shouldn’t be out here. People don’t walk on the road around here.” Except vagrants, but she didn’t add that.

Tory lifted her hand above her eyes as the sun emerged from behind a cloud. From the rear view mirror, Tammy saw Annabelle wave from the backseat. Rory simply stared.

“Rye went running this morning. Where did he go?” she asked.

Tammy tapped her fingers on the steering wheel. “Knowing Rye, he probably ran on the road, but he’s always done what you shouldn’t do. You’d do better not to take after him.”

Her words weren’t very nice, but she couldn’t help it. Having him back here was downright discomfiting, and Mama had been in a mood all morning because of it.

Tory reached down and re–tied one of her shoes. “Would you be able to give me a ride back to the guest house? It’s a lot hotter out here than I expected.” She fanned herself.

“I’ll have to drop you off after I leave the kids at the big house.”

“That’s fine.” Tory came around to the passenger side.

“Hi guys. What are you up to today?” Tory asked the kids after putting on her seatbelt.

Guys? That’s right. People in the Midwest used that term for everyone. Tammy tried not to frown. Eyes flicking to the rear view mirror, she saw Annabelle lean across Rory to better see Tory, but he gave her a gentle push back into her seat. He wasn’t fond of anyone getting too close. It worried her. Did all boys push people away or just hers?

Annabelle bounced up and down. “Mama has a meeting, so we’re going to stay at Grandmama’s house today.”

“That sounds nice,” Tory replied.

Even Tammy could hear the insincerity. No doubt Rye had filled this woman’s mind with all sorts of bad stories about Mama. Tammy knew she was difficult, but she was still her mama. That meant something.

When they arrived at the house, Annabelle grabbed Tory’s hand, ever the open–hearted child.

“Mama, can Miss Tory stay for a while and play with me?”

Tammy picked up her Coach purse and shut the door. “No, Annabelle. I’m sure Ms. Simmons has things she needs to do for your Uncle Rye.” Hopefully Annabelle would understand Miss Tory was too informal, but she was still learning manners.

Tory swung Annabelle’s hand in hers, making an arc. “Actually, I don’t have a thing to do. I’d love to stay and play. I bet you have some pretty dolls.”

Her daughter grinned. “Yes, I do. We can have a tea party. My dolls love them.”

“Well, we’ll have to fix something nice for them.”

She wasn’t sure why, but Tammy pulled on Annabelle’s other hand. “Honey, you shouldn’t bother Ms. Simmons.”

“It’s no bother, really, and please call me Tory. Let’s go inside, Annabelle. You can show me your dolls.”

So Tory was ignoring her request? “My children are expected to use their manners when addressing adults.”

The pause was slight, but telling. “Of course. How about Miss Tory? I feel ancient when I’m called Miss Simmons.”

Tammy still thought it was too informal, but she nodded.

“Why don’t you come along with us, Rory?” Tory asked.

He shook his head. “Boys don’t have tea parties.”

Tammy reached out a hand out to caress his cheek, but he darted away, his eyes wide and watchful.

God, his fear of being touched kept her up at night. Had Sterling done something to him when she wasn’t around? Acid poured into her stomach.

“Well, come and find us if you change your mind, Rory,” Tory said.

The revving engine of a fast approaching car sounded behind them, and they all turned to look as Rye’s truck sped toward the house. He slammed the door when he got out, making her jump in her heels. Did he have to be so forceful?

He strode over to Tory. “Where were you? I couldn’t find you when I came for breakfast. You were pretty upset before.”

Now, wasn’t this interesting? Tammy cocked her ear to hear the answer.

“I went for a walk.”

He put his hands on his hips. “In this heat?”

Well, he clearly hadn’t lost all sense. “And on the main road.”

“You were walking on the main road?” he asked her.

“Why is that such a problem?” the woman asked, her voice exasperated.

“Honey, we don’t walk on the main road here. You could get hit.”

“Isn’t that where you went running this morning?”

Rye tapped his boot in place. “Hell, no. Sorry, Tammy. Kids.”

Tammy shot him a look and then caught Tory’s smirk. So, she’d been caught in an exaggeration about Rye. She waited to see if the woman would say anything.

“Well, I like to walk, so if there’s somewhere better…”

Tammy let out a breath in relief. The last thing she felt like doing was hashing things out with her brother.

“There’s a path in the woods. I’ll show you later, but tell me when you’re leaving next time. I was…worried.”

“I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.” Her face softened as she said it. Curiouser and curiouser.

Rye hooked his thumbs in his belt. “Did you walk all the way here?”

“No, Tammy was kind enough to give me a ride, and Annabelle and I are going to have a tea party now.”

Tammy glanced at her watch. “I’m going to be late. You two be good for Grandmama. Annabelle, don’t be a bother to Miss Simmons.”

Annabelle sashayed, swirling her yellow dress. “I won’t, Mama.”

“Then come and give me some sugar.” She leaned over so her daughter could kiss her cheek. “Go inside now. I’ll be back after lunch.” Taking Tory’s hand in her own, her girl scampered off toward the house.

Rye put his hands on his hips. “Nice to see ya, sis.”

She made her mouth move, but it probably didn’t look much like a smile. His infernal words didn’t deserve one.

“I’ll see you later, Rory. You be a good boy.”

He didn’t turn toward her, but Rye did and met her eyes. Was that sadness in his face? He glanced away before she could tell. Once inside the car, Tammy checked her lipstick in the mirror. Her reflection looked a little sad too, so she reapplied some blush. She drove off with a tight throat.

Rory hadn’t moved.

Neither had Rye.

***

Rye looked up at the sky and sighed. Tammy wasn’t his mama, but she sure reminded him of her, just like she always had. Daddy wasn’t the only one he had to make peace with, and the way they grated on each other, he wondered if peace was even possible with Mini–Mama.

Rory was still standing there, too, and while his nephew was cute, he had no idea how to interact with the boy.

“What are you waiting for, son?”

The boy’s face scrunched up. “You weren’t nice to my mama.”

Rye chuckled at his honesty. “No, son, but she wasn’t particularly nice to me either. We’ve been fighting like cats since we were your age. You best treat Annabelle better. It’s no fun growing up that way.”

Without another word, Rory turned and walked to the house. After retrieving his hat, Rye followed. He slapped the Stetson against his thigh. The desire to flee was strong. He wanted nothing more than to get into the truck and haul ass, but he wanted to see his daddy. He froze when he stepped inside.

“Mama.”

Her face was as hard as the diamond studs in her ears. “You can put that hat on the hat rack, Rye. Your daddy knows you’re here, and he’s asked to see you.” She lowered her head, looking down her nose at him.