Give Him the Slip (43 page)

If she'd scored a hit, he didn't react. "Wow. Looks like a
jungle in here. You taking all those flowers home?"

The fact he hadn't sent her flowers when just about everyone else
in town had hung in the room like skunk spray. "No. I'm giving them to the
nurses, except for the daisies from your father and the basket of roses from
Liam."

She followed his gaze to the white wicker basket and its two dozen
stems of beautiful yellow roses. His lips thinned. Didn't like that, hmm? Good.
"Liam visited me yesterday. It was really nice to see him. We had a nice
talk and I do believe he's a changed man. We've decided to be friends. I
understand you and he have spoken?"

Temper fired in Luke's eyes, and when he opened his mouth, Maddie
thought she'd finally pushed him far enough. She sat up a little straighter,
more than ready for this confrontation, but then a nurse pushed a wheelchair
into her room and spoiled the moment. Luke grabbed her suitcase. "I'll
head on down and bring the car up to the entrance. I borrowed your father's
Lexus. Thought it'd be easier for you to get in and out of than my truck."

"What about your Maserati?" the nurse piped up.
"That is the neatest car in town."

He flashed her his friendly smile. "It's not in town anymore,
I'm afraid. I sold it."

"No!" said the nurse. "Why would you do that?"

Luke shrugged. "Didn't need it anymore."

"He's good about getting rid of the things he doesn't
need," Maddie added as the nurse walked away.

That one did score a hit, judging by his flinch.

On the short drive to the house Blade had rented, Maddie waited
for Luke to speak. He turned up the music instead. She drummed her fingers on
her knee. He whistled beneath his breath.

She bit the inside of her mouth to keep from crying. How had they
come to this? She'd truly thought he cared. How could she have been so wrong?

He never said he loved you, Maddie.

Luke Callahan never lied.

He pulled into the driveway of a pretty two-story colonial.
"Is that my father? The man in a golf shirt? With a five iron in his
hand?"

"He's taking to this new lifestyle." Luke switched off
the engine as her father finished his practice swing, then waved. "I think
Blade would rather have been an actor than a singer."

Knucklehead came bounding out around the side of the house barking
a welcome, and Maddie was glad to see for herself that the dog had recovered
from his ordeal.

"Welcome home, luv," Blade said, grasping her hands and
giving her a thorough once-over. "You look marvelous. Your bed is all
ready, and the cook has been at it all day making your favorites. Shepherd's
pie and fish and chips. Cream custard. Strawberries and lemon curd."

Maddie smiled, knowing they were her father's favorites, but he'd
honestly believed they were hers. "That sounds wonderful."

"Your friend Kathy is bringing pecan pie. She made one the
other day and it was so good it made my eyes roll back in my head. I told her
I'd sing 'September Loving' for her if she'd bring another one."

"I'm sure that thrilled her to death."

"I admit I'm enjoying this anonymity, but it's nice having
one person in town who knows who I am."

"Especially a fan like Kathy." Maddie went up on her
tiptoes and pressed a kiss to her father's cheek. She still couldn't get over
how smooth it was.

"So, she's not married?" Blade asked, throwing his arm
around Maddie's shoulder and escorting her toward the front door.

Luke followed them inside and set her suitcase on the floor. He
made a second trip to bring the flowers inside. Setting them on the entry hall
table, he stuck his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels.
"Well," he said, "I, um, I guess I'll be going."

Maddie braced herself and turned. "Away from here or away
from town?"

He looked away, hardened his jaw. "I'm leaving Brazos
Bend."

Even though she knew better, she hesitated, waiting for an
invitation to join him. When the moment stretched on in silence, she nodded.
"I'll walk you out."

"No. That's all right. You need to rest."

"I'll. Walk. You. Out."

Luke gritted his teeth, then nodded once.

Magnolia trees shaded the front walk, their blossoms perfuming the
air as Maddie and Luke walked side by side toward Luke's truck parked at the
curb. She wanted to touch him. She wanted to throw her arms around him, to have
him hold her in return. It took the last vestiges of her control not to throw
herself at him.

Spying a bench beneath the tree off to the right, she made a
detour and took a seat, saying, "Five minutes, Callahan. I think you owe
me that."

Again one of those short, sharp nods.

Knucklehead nuzzled up beside her and she made a show of petting
and scratching him, telling him good-bye, that she'd miss him, that he was the
very best of dogs. Luke watched for a moment, then turned away.

Words bubbled up on Maddie's tongue, questions and accusations and
even that declaration neither one of them had ever said. Yet, only a single
word escaped. "Why?"

"Because I have to."

Peeved, she repeated, "Why?"

Finally, he looked at her. "I've thought about it a lot. You
were right before, Red. Brazos Bend is where you need to be. You love it here,
and Brazos Bend loves you. It's home and hearth and the promise of family. I
can't give you that. It isn't in me to give that to anyone. All I have to offer
is a boat and Buffett tunes by sunset. It's not enough. You deserve more. You
certainly deserve better than me."

Better than him? He saved her life. He was her knight in shining
armor. Her hero.

Her love.

She closed her eyes. She loved him. From the bottom of her heart,
with every fiber of her being. "Luke, I—"

He touched her for the first time in a week by putting his finger
against her lips, saying, "Shush, now. Don't. Don't make this any harder.
It isn't good for your lungs to get all worked up. It's okay. This is the best
thing for both of us, Red. I need to take some time and figure out what I want
to do with my life. I'm obviously not cut out for law enforcement any longer. I
have to apologize for letting Randolph get off that shot. I should have figured
that old bastard was involved somehow. You paid for my mistake and I'll regret
that for the rest of my life."

"No, Luke. Please, just listen—"

"I think what I need to do is take some time to decide what
interests me," he interrupted, his eyes not meeting hers. He was obviously
anxious to escape. "You're lucky, you know? You've found a place that fits
you, found an occupation that suits. I think I'll take your example and see if
I can't find the same for myself."

Pride came to Maddie's rescue. "More than anything, I want
you to be happy, Luke Callahan. Whatever it takes. Now, since you foolishly
felt you had to apologize—"

"Maddie," he protested.

"I need to thank you for saving my life. You were my hero
when I needed one, Luke, and for that I'll always"— she swallowed the
words "love you" and finished—"be grateful."

He looked down at the ground, rubbed the back of his neck. She saw
his chest expand as he drew a deep breath. "Good-bye, Maddie
Kincaid."

Tears pooled in her eyes, but determination prevented them from
spilling. "Good-bye, Luke Callahan."

He leaned down, captured her lips in a swift, hard kiss, then
walked away.

Maddie didn't watch the truck pull away or follow its path down
the street. She stared blindly at a pair of mockingbirds pecking at seed in the
grass spilled from a bird feeder and tried not to bawl like a baby. He left. He
really left. Just drove off into the sunset like a cowboy in a bad B movie.

Good Lord, she'd done it to herself again. She'd given her heart
to someone who didn't want it, and he'd handed it back to her in pieces. A
million of them. A billion aching, painful pieces. Maddie couldn't see how
she'd ever put it back together again.

She heard a screen door bang behind her, then footsteps on the
porch. Brooks Brothers Blade took a seat beside her and put his arm around her.
After a moment of silence, he began to hum the Beatles tune "Hey
Jude."

Maddie managed a watery smile and rested her head on her daddy's
shoulder.

In the local archives section of the Rosenberg Library in
Galveston, Luke took one last note about the island in the 1890s, then set down
his pen and called it a day. He rose from the hard wooden chair where he'd
spent most of his day, put his hands to his lower back, and stretched. It felt
good. He felt good. He'd accomplished a lot of work today.

Work, he'd found, provided a good distraction from the hollow
feeling in his heart.

Luke stuck his notebook and supplies into his backpack, then
returned his books to the stacks. He paused to flirt with the librarian before
leaving the building. "You mind if I bring in my La-Z-Boy with me next
time, Mrs. Wilmington?" he asked, snatching a peppermint from her candy
jar. "Sure would be more comfortable than those oak torture devices you
have in here."

A spry seventy-eight, Mrs. Wilmington grabbed a folded newspaper
and whacked him on his thieving hand. "Only if you bring a recliner for me
while you're at it. Unlike yourself, I'm all bone in the bottom. I can use some
padding."

"Mrs. Wilmington! Have you been checking out my butt?"
he asked with a wink.

"People-watching is one of the great joys of my job."

Laughing, Luke leaned over the desk and kissed her cheek.
"You better stay out of trouble while I'm gone, Mrs. W. You're my best
girl here in Galveston. I don't want any young hard-butt carting you off while
I'm away."

"So your research is done? You're leaving town?"

"I think I have everything I need," he replied.
Everything the library can provide, anyway. "I'm going to take the
Miss
Behavin' II
south and winter in Mexico. See if I can't get the first draft
of the book done. Want to run off to Cozumel with me?"

The librarian's eyes twinkled. "You wish. I'd be too much for
you to handle, too much of a distraction for you, boy. You'd never get your
book done, and that won't do. I'm anxious to read it. I love a good pirate
book, and your family connection to Jean Laffite gives the story an added elan."

"He was a character, all right."

"Which makes you the perfect person to write this story. If
you'd been born a few hundred years earlier, I could see you hanging with ol'
Jean and his brother on the island. So, you go to Mexico and write your book,
Callahan. You can dedicate it to me."

"I might just do that, sweetheart. I might just do
that."

Luke slung his backpack over one shoulder as he left the library.
The first cold front of the season had moved in while he'd been indoors, and he
hunched his shoulders against the chilling north wind as he walked toward the
bay. It was definitely time to head south. He needed warm sunshine to battle
the coldness that had plagued his soul during the months since leaving Brazos
Bend and Maddie Kincaid.

He missed her. Missed the joy in her laugh, the spark in her
temper. The natural sensuality she oozed with every breath. He recalled the
last time they'd made love the night of the fire and the pagan-goddess look of
her as she rode him to completion. So beautiful. So sexy. So—

"Hell." His prick had gone as hard as a tire iron. Damn,
but he needed to get laid. He hadn't been able to bring himself to date since
saying
adi
ó
s
to Red. Maybe for old times' sake he should visit
one of the whorehouses on the border on his way down south, no matter that the
idea left him cold.

Truth was, he couldn't imagine being with anyone but Maddie.

It had been a long, lonely few months since he saluted Brazos Bend
in his rearview mirror. He'd been at loose ends at first. Spent his days
getting the boat in tip-top shape and his nights playing pool in the sleaziest
honky-tonk in southwestern Louisiana. Some nights he drank to forget her. Other
nights he drank because he couldn't forget her.

The time wasn't wasted, because while he swabbed the decks and polished
the brass and recovered from bad-beer hangovers, he did what he'd told Maddie
he'd do. He'd found a place that fitted him and an occupation that suited.

He'd moved his boat to Galveston and begun research for a thriller
idea he'd played with for years based on the old McBride-family tales his
mother had liked to tell. His had a treasure-hunt plot with an unlucky hero,
lots of adventure, a murder or two, some drug-runner villains, and a
happy-ending romance with a hot, redheaded heroine.

Maybe the hero didn't have such bad luck after all.

Maybe happy endings didn't happen in real life, but he was writing
fiction, wasn't he? Fiction didn't always have to imitate life. The hero didn't
have to end up lonely and alone.