Her Heart for the Asking (Book 1 - TEXAS HEARTS) (11 page)

"Yes, it does," she said quietly, her mouth
suddenly bone-dry.  She wanted to lean into his touch, kiss
his palm.  Instead, she just enjoyed the new feelings his
touch evoked.

He smiled, slow and sexy, and her heart did
a flip. 

"I guess I got a little carried away. 
You have mud on your face.  In your hair," he
whispered. 

He tipped her hat off her head with his
other hand and tossed it to the floorboards.  All the while,
he kept his hand on her cheek, brushing the gritty wet dirt.

"I'm making it worse."

Shaking her head slightly, she said, "No,
you're not."

"I shouldn't be touching you this way."

He started to pull his hand away, but Mandy
held it in place against her cheek.

His eyes were dark and filled with
longing.  "Mandy, I want to kiss you."

"Then kiss me," she whispered back.

She let herself go with the flow.  She
met him half way, draping her arms around his shoulders. 
There was no room for indecision.  She wanted Beau and by the
way his mouth savagely came over hers, the way he dug his fingers
into her matted hair until it tumbled down to her shoulders, and
cradled her body against his, he wanted her too.

She opened up to him, not sure she'd ever be
able to get enough of what he had to give.  Not sure if
there'd ever be enough hours in a day or days in a lifetime to know
all there was to know about Beau Gentry.

She wanted to be with him.  Much as
she'd hated it, she'd been drawn to Beau like a magnet ever since
she'd stepped foot off that plane.  It felt amazingly good to
feel and admit it to herself after all this time.  It was
better to feel it and be there in his arms.

The charging rain against the roof of the
truck just barely drowned out her soft moan and the rampant beating
of her heart.  Mandy clung to Beau, to his rain sodden
clothes, feeling his hard body against hers, feeling the strength
of his arms as he pulled her against his chest, setting her soul on
fire. 

It wouldn't last forever.  She knew
that.  But for this moment she'd make it last, savor every bit
of Beau's kiss for as long as she could.

The sound of a horn blaring in the distance
slowly cut through the charge of the rain.  Beau pulled away
from her and looked into her eyes.  She knew that look. 
It had haunted her endlessly with its memory.  But before she
could kiss Beau again, the noise in the distance grew louder until
it was impossible to ignore.

"What are they doing up here?"  Beau
released Mandy, grabbing his boots and quickly slipping into
them.

It could only mean one thing, but Mandy
wasn't ready to face it.  Fighting her fear, she quickly threw
open the door and stepped out into the rain.

Mitch's truck stopped about a hundred yards
away.  He ran through the mud-bogged road until he was half
way to Beau's truck.

"I'm glad I caught up with you."

"What is it?" Beau asked.

Mitch could hardly catch his breath. 
He didn't have to utter a word for Mandy to know what he was about
to say.  His face said it all.

"It's Hank.  He's collapsed."

# # #

Chapter Eight

For the first time that day, Beau questioned
taking Mandy away from the ranch.  Oh, Lord, if anything
happened to Hank while they were gone.  He'd never forgive
himself.

"We're never going to get the truck through
this mud without some help," Beau said.

"I have a winch if you get stuck, but it'll
take too long.  Leave the truck and drive back with me."

They quickly walked the distance to Mitch's
pickup and climbed inside.  Mandy sat in the middle between
him and Mitch, forced into tight quarters, but already Beau felt
the difference between them.  She was snug up against him,
leaning against his body.  Beau had to admit he liked this
change of heart, and hoped it wasn't just out of fear for what
might be with Hank.

She needed comfort to keep her fear at bay
and he was going to give it to her.  Wrapping his arm around
her shoulder, he pulled her to him so she was resting against his
side.  He realized immediately that he needed her comfort as
much as she needed his.

As Mitch's truck bounced back down the road
toward the ranch, Mandy's eyes drifted up to meet his.  It
nearly broke his heart.  She seemed...shattered.

He did the only thing he could.  He
bent his head and pressed his lips against her forehead.  "You
talk to him," Beau said softly.  "He'll listen to you. 
You're the only one he'll listen to."

Mandy nodded her head weakly. 

It seemed to take forever to reach the ranch
house.  The sun was sinking below the trees when Mitch's truck
finally pulled out front.  Knowing the doctors would take
measures to operate, Hank insisted on staying home instead of going
to the hospital at Corrine's pleas.  The paramedics stabilized
him as best they could while Corrine had called his doctor. 
He was just stepping off the porch when they climbed out of the
truck.

"He's comfortable," Corrine said.  It
had taken its toll on her, Beau could tell.  In the time
they'd been gone she looked as if she'd aged ten years.

"I want to see him," Mandy said on a
sob.

"He needs to rest," Dr. Cookman said. 
"Don't upset him.  Right now his heart is like a
timebomb.  Just let him rest and I'll check on him in the
morning."  He turned to Corrine and reaching out, he squeezed
her hand.  "You have my direct number.  You call me if
you need to.  I don't care what time it is."

"I will.  Thank you so much Rich."

His heart is like a timebomb.

Beau's ears were still ringing with Dr.
Cookman's words when he left Hank's room later that evening. 
If Mandy couldn't convince Hank to have the surgery, he was going
to lose his friend, a good man who had been like a father to
him.

And Mandy would lose so much more.

* * *

The house had grown quiet now that all the
hands were back at the bunkhouse.

"Let me help you with the dishes, Aunt
Corrine," Mandy said.  She needed something to do, something
to keep her busy.  But she suspected her aunt needed it
more. 

She came up from behind and wrapped her arms
around her aunt and felt her shoulders shudder.  After a few
moments, Corrine sobbed, "When I was lying in bed with him earlier
I thought, 'Lord, how many more times am I going to be able to have
him here in my arms like this?'  I thought we were going to
lose him today for sure."

"I know.  I should have been here."

"No, you can't stop your life just because
he's being so stubborn.  None of us can."

"I wish..."

"What, doll?"

She slumped down into a kitchen chair and
mindlessly twirled an empty glass between her fingers.  "I
should have come more often."

"Oh, don't go there again.  You have a
life of your own.  No one expects you to give it up."

Mandy chuckled wryly.  "I wish my
mother would say that."

Her aunt looked down at the soapsuds and
stilled.  "I didn't want to call your mother and tell her
about Hank.  In fact, he asked me not to.  Was quite
cross with me for doing it."

Mandy closed her eyes and shook her
head.  "He's such a..."  She paused, searching for the
right word.  Then looking up at her aunt, they both said in
tandem, "cowboy." 

"I'm glad you made that call. 
Otherwise, I may have never known until it was too late.  For
that I'm sorry.  Some niece I turned out to be."

"You're wonderful for him.  We both
love you so very much."

"Can I ask you something personal?"

"Anything."

"How come you and Uncle Hank never had
children?  You'd both make wonderful parents."

Corrine didn't answer right away and
immediately Mandy wondered if it were too painful a subject for her
aunt.  Her hands stilled in the dishwater.

"I would have loved to have had a child with
Hank," she said quietly.  "It wasn't in God's plan, I
guess."

"You could have adopted.  I can just
see Hank and a string of young cowboys out in the barnyard. 
He was always so great with me, always encouraged me and made me
feel like I could do anything.  You'd make a terrific mother,
too.  I remember so many nights when I first came to the
Double T I'd cry myself to sleep and you always stayed by my
side.  You and Hank are like a second set of parents to
me."

Corrine was quiet and Mandy was afraid she'd
hurt her aunt’s feelings.  But then she turned and smiled at
Mandy, her eyes filled with tears.

"We didn't need to adopt a child.  We
were blessed with you." 

Mandy swallowed the lump in her
throat.  She was well loved by the people in her life. 
How many people could say that?  And yet, she thought back to
what Beau had asked her over again about being happy.  Was
she?

"And you both were happy?"

"We have each other.  You could drive
yourself crazy with what-would-have-beens if you let it get to
you.  But yes, I've always been happy.  And I think up
until lately Hank's been happy, too."

Mandy pushed herself out of her chair. 
"I don't doubt it.  If Uncle Hank doesn't care about himself,
he can't be happy about what this is doing to everyone else."

Her aunt's shoulders slumped.  "He has
his reasons, not that I agree with him.  But they are his
own."

"Why don't you tell me what they are?"

Corrine turned to her, unshed tears still
clinging to her eyelids.  "You need to ask him that yourself,
doll.  Only he can tell you."

Mandy picked up a dishtowel and started
wiping one of the dishes her aunt set to dry in the wrack. 
Her aunt quickly stilled her hand.

"Please leave them.  I need some busy
work to do and if I don't have any to keep me occupied, I'll go
crazy.  As it is, I'll probably be tearing at this house until
morning sun."

"Okay," Mandy said, understanding. 
"I'm going to check on Uncle Hank before I turn in."

She kissed her Aunt's cheek and left the
kitchen, listening to her heart beating and the loud thrum of blood
rushing through her veins.  As she crossed the living room to
the stairway, she paused and angled back to the fireplace mantle
where the pictures of her and Uncle Hank and Aunt Corrine were
carefully placed. 

Walking over to the mantel, she chose the
picture of her sitting on her uncle's lap when they visited his
mother on the reservation.  The day she'd met Alice's daughter
Sara.  There was something about that picture that had given
her pause when she'd seen it the other day.  If she looked at
it quick enough...

We didn't need to adopt.  We were
blessed with you.

With trembling hands, she took the picture
from the mantel and stared at it again.  Then she climbed the
stairs to the second floor.  When she reached Hank's bedroom,
she knocked lightly on the door.

"Are you up for company?" she asked when she
poked her head in.

"Always for you," Hank said, lifting his arm
up in invitation for her to join him on the bed.  He was
sitting up, his face ghostly white and his breathing better now
that he'd had a little rest.  The doctor said it would get
better as long as he didn't overdo it.

"I need you, you big ninny," she said, tears
blurring her vision.  She settled into his arms, resting her
head on his broad shoulders like she used to when she was a young
girl.  He enfolded her in his arms and gave her a
squeeze.  He always gave her the hugs she craved, always made
her feel accepted, gave his approval willingly, endlessly. 
She had the feeling she could do no wrong in her uncle's eyes.

"You don't need me, darlin'.  You're
all grown up and taking the world by the ears and making them
listen to you now.  You've got your momma brains."

Her eyes fell to the photo in her
hand.  And my grandmother's eyes.  She gazed up at Hank
and saw the first time with the eyes of a woman what she would
never see-- could never see--as a child.

She swallowed hard before daring to speak,
felt her bottom lip tremble.  But it was too important to
ignore.  "How come you never told me you're my real father?"
she asked, her voice low and thick with emotion.

She took a deep breath and waited with
trepidation for his reply.

Hank's arm tightened just a fraction around
her and his body tensed.  His eyes suddenly filled with
moisture and she saw what looked to her like regret. 
"How..."

Her voice was shaky when she spoke and she
fought mightily to keep it steady.  "I guess it's always been
there.  Mom and Dad fighting endlessly, always just before I
came to Texas.  You and Aunt Corrine were supposed to be such
good family friends except you and my parents never spend any time
together, only when it has to do with me.  All the clues were
there when I was growing up, except if you aren't looking for
something, you won't find it.  And if you don't want to see
it, you'll just push any evidence of it aside."

She paused, swallowing hard after the words
rushed out of her mouth.  He hadn't denied it.  It could
only mean one thing.  She fought to keep from bursting out
into tears and making what was already difficult for both of them
even harder.

"I'm all grown up, Uncle Hank.  I can
read things differently and I can handle what I may not have been
able to accept when I was seven."  She smiled, handing him the
picture she'd brought to the room.  "I have my grandmother's
eyes."

His eyebrows knitted. 

"Remember that first day we met at my
recital?"

"How could I ever forget?"

"You told me your name was Hank Promise and
I told you my name was Promise, too.  Mandy Promise
Morgan.  You smiled and said I had my grandmother's
eyes.  The only other person who ever said that to me was
mom.  When I was a kid, I didn't think anything of it. 
Why would I?  But Mom's mother had big hazel-green eyes, just
like hers.  And Dad's eyes are blue and...he was
adopted.  Did you know that?"