Promise Broken (The Callahan Series) (13 page)

“How did you know?”

“He loved her.”

“Yes, he did. And he convinced her to marry him. So here I am. The first of five children; all of whom have the same father except me.”

Phyl’s heart ached. How long had it taken him to accept his paternity? How long to realize that regardless of that, he was every inch a Callahan? Or had he?

“Duncan Callahan was a dad to you, wasn’t he?”

“The best.”

She shrugged, knowing instinctively this man wouldn’t appreciate any show of emotion. “Then you’re a Callahan.”

“You sound like the rest of the family.”

“It’s true. Your dad loved you. You grew up to be like him, not like your biological father. He was a good example for his children, and I’ll bet anything he showed no partiality. Am I right?”

Donovan nodded.

“So what’s the problem?”

“Not a problem, exactly. I found out about this only recently. I left the ranch—to find him. That’s when Mom hired you. I wanted to beat the crap out of him. Only he died before I had the chance.”

No wonder Donovan had looked so lost during his first weeks back at the ranch. A hint of that pain still clouded his eyes.

“That bothers you?”

“It does. I wanted him to pay for hurting my mother.”

“I’ll bet anything Nellie would tell you that all the pain she went through was worth it to have you in her life.”

Without warning, Donovan reached for her and pulled her close. For a moment she was stunned. This wasn’t what she’d intended. But it felt so good—so right—she didn’t want to move. “Donovan?”

He held her tighter. She sighed. Leaned into him. This was a forever moment. She didn’t want to break it—didn’t want to bring a halt to these wonderful feelings. Feelings she’d never had. Not with her parents, Victor, or anyone else.

When Donovan’s lips brushed hers, something electric shot through her. Had she ever felt this before—this urge to never let go—to stay here forever? She sighed softly, knowing this moment was special. And even though she may never have another like it again, she was going to enjoy this one.

He kissed her.

Her heart kicked into an irregular beat and let sensations like she’d never felt before float through her.

When the kiss went deeper—when she couldn’t think anymore—when her bones were so limp she couldn’t move, she surrendered.

Magic. It was a glorious magical place she didn’t want to leave.

If her life weren’t so uncertain she’d grab this man and never let go.

Maybe she could even let herself go and believe her life was nice and normal.

But Donovan didn’t know her story. Until he did, she couldn’t do this.

Her body trembling, she pulled away.

“I’m not sorry about that.” Clearing his throat, he continued. “I guess you’ve come to realize that unlike the other Callahans, I have a temper,” he confessed.

She looked at him. “Temper isn’t a bad thing if you know how to handle it.” Could he hear the slight tremor in her voice?

“I didn’t handle it very well when I thought Cal was hurting you.”

She waited, unsure where he was headed with this.

“I don’t like losing control. The consequences are not always pretty.”

“I know how you must feel. Part of you is pure Callahan, but you can’t ignore the part that’s not.”

“Exactly.”

“Get used to it. Everyone is different. Your brothers and sister aren’t that much alike, you know.”

“They are. Every one of them is more outgoing. Look at them. I could never do what they’ve chosen to do with their lives. I’m the one who’s different.”

“Not that different. And if there’s something you dislike about yourself, change it.”

“You sound a lot like Mom.”

At that, she smiled. “Mothers tend to think somewhat alike.”

He pulled her to him, kissed her again. Phyl’s head whirled. If only…

She pulled away. “Not now.”

“Can’t we just talk? Didn’t you have something to discuss?”

“I did…I do. But it’ll have to wait.”

When she forced herself back to reality, she realized how day had turned into night here amongst the rocks.

Was it that late?

Thunder made her jump up. Stumble. Unsure of her footing and of what had just happened.

“I have to get back. We have to.”

She jumped on Skye and whirled toward the break in the rocks.

As she broke through them, she saw the ominous clouds, and wondered if West Texas storms always came up this quickly.

She urged Skye even faster.

Chapter Eleven

As she spurred Skye into a gallop, Phyl wondered what in the world had come over her. Did those rocks hold some kind of magical power? She’d never ached for a man. Ever. But in Donovan’s arms, she’d been a throbbing bundle of want. That guard she kept around herself had disintegrated, leaving her exposed. Why did she let it happen? Where was her sane, logical mind set on keeping herself and her son out of danger?

Nothing had changed. The killers were still out there. Magic rocks or not, she couldn’t afford the luxury of letting down her guard.

With anyone. Including Donovan. Yet here she was, wanting a man who could send her into danger, in more ways than one. Her body flushed hot all over.

Regret thundered through her.

Whatever her feelings—whatever Donovan’s, when she told him the truth, when it became clear that she had lied by omission, he would send her away.

No man had turned her head since Victor. The only thing she should be thinking about was keeping Mark safe.

A streak of lightning in the northern sky made her hurry even faster. Yes, they had to get to the cattle and move them, but her anxiety wasn’t about the cattle, but about Mark. Was she being paranoid now because of what just happened? Or was it more? Despite her never-ending fear of being found, she felt an urgency that wasn’t normal.

She didn’t go to the barn, but rode straight to the back door. The sky had grown ominous. Suddenly, she was afraid. Not of the storm. But a fear for their safety. One that went deeper than the usual anxiety she felt every minute of every day. This was more intense, more immediate.

Why now?

She’d felt safe here from that first day. Anxious, yes, but safe. Now, the feeling that she should take Mark and run was strong enough to unsettle her. There was no plausible reason to be so skittish. Mark had been alone with Nellie for days now while they tended cattle. But Phyl couldn’t tamp down the feeling that they should be anywhere but here.

Nellie was in the living area.

“Mark was tired so I put him to bed. I hope that was all right.”

To hide her relief, Phyl leaned against the doorjamb. “Of course it is. I had no idea it was so late.” It was just her imagination. Everything was as peaceful as always.

Nellie looked at the clock. “It’s not really that late. Just seems that way.”

“There was no sign of a storm today, nothing but blue skies. Now we’re going to have to move the cattle in the rain.” She went over, kissed Nellie on the cheek. “Thanks for taking such good care of Mark.”

“My pleasure.” Nellie smiled.

“I’ll peek in on him for only a minute. We really need to hurry.”

“Be careful,” Nellie said.

“We will.”

But she hadn’t been careful. She’d fallen for Donovan Callahan.

She went upstairs and opened the door to her room. Mark was sleeping peacefully, his car lying beside him as it did every night.

She gave him a kiss on his forehead.

A clap of thunder made her jump, but her son slept peacefully. He was probably exhausted. She doubted she’d sleep as peacefully that night.

The pending storm, no matter how intense, couldn’t compete with the storm in her heart.

As the thought filtered through her head, she heard Donovan’s footsteps on the stairs.

“We’d better hurry,” he said from the doorway.

“I’m ready,” she replied, as he stepped aside to let her descend the staircase first.

Though they needed rain, the storm couldn’t have come at a worse time. They had planned to wait until the next day to herd the cattle to the corral by the barn to make it easier for them to take to auction. But tomorrow would be too late. They could spend hours tonight and tomorrow hunting for strays spooked by thunder and lightning. If that happened, they’d miss the auction.

Lightning lit up the northern sky as they rode off.

“Do you have a poncho?” he called out.

Phyl pointed to her saddlebag and opened the flap. “We should have realized this was on the way,” Phyl yelled. She pulled out the slicker and pushed her arms into it. As she tightened her legs around Skye’s girth, the mare broke into a run.

“We’re not going to make it,” Donovan yelled next to her.

“We should have put them up today. We came in too early,” she yelled back.

She was probably right, but after the scare she’d given him, Donovan didn’t want to keep her in the heat too long. Plus, he’d wanted that talk.

Cal would have been a big help now. Guilt sat heavily on Donovan’s shoulders. What had made him the way he was—quick to unleash his temper, slow to calm it down?

In his heart, he knew. And he didn’t like it.

A clap of thunder came on the heels of jagged lightning. A downpour followed. In seconds, they were drenched, their ponchos useless against the deluge.

Then came the wind.

By the time they reached the herd, there was no way to be heard over the din. With hand signals, they explained their intentions. Bent over the saddle, Phyl made a loop around the herd, yelling and whooping for them to go in the right direction.

They had to get them to the corral by the old homestead. Fast. They’d be safe there. Not out of the weather, but at least enclosed.

Donovan started around the opposite way. Phyl knew what she was doing. How long had she worked on a ranch? Where was it? Why was she here instead of the ranch she’d obviously left?

Thunder clapped as loud as a thousand drums, drowning out his questions and startling the cows. Cattle hated loud noises. Every streak of lightning, every clap of thunder scattered the herd. At this rate, they’d be here this time tomorrow.

In the meantime, they’d lose some valuable livestock that would take hours to find.

Donovan spurred Stormy forward. Waving his Stetson, he yelled and pleaded, trying to get the cattle to move in the right direction.

A lull in the fireworks helped. Donovan and Phyl pushed them closer to their destination.

Every so often, Phyl would leave the herd and head off. Soon she’d be back herding a couple of strays ahead of her. How she saw them, Donovan didn’t know. But she had instincts that were proving invaluable.

Whooping louder, he waved the cattle forward. Another thirty minutes and they’d be there.

Wishful thinking.

Ten minutes later, the sky opened up once more and the cattle had to be coaxed or bullied back into the herd.

Instead of thirty minutes, it took another hour to get them to the homestead and into the corral.

“We did it!” Phyl shouted over the pelting rain.

“Go inside. We’ll dry out, give the storm time to let up before we head back,” he said, making one last circuit of the cattle. They weren’t happy. Or content. They jostled each other, stomped their feet. With every lightning flash—with every earth-rocking crash of thunder, they threatened to run.

Donovan grimaced. There was nowhere to run. They were safe. Tomorrow, with Phyl’s help, they’d bring them to the corral by the barn. The following day, take them to auction.

He guided Stormy into the lean-to behind the house, climbed wearily from the saddle. Skye stood there, her head down. At least they were out of the weather.

Exactly where he wanted to be.

Giving one more glance at the restless cattle, Donovan stomped onto the porch and into the old farmhouse.

Phyl hadn’t wasted a minute. A fire crackled in the fireplace, several candles were lit and on the mantel. Water pooled at her feet. Her hair hung in wet strands down her back. Her clothes clung to her body like a second skin. He let his eyes feast.

Every curve made his mouth water, his blood heat.

“Are there any more candles?” she asked.

He chuckled. “Don’t you think this is enough?”

When Phyl looked over at him, Donovan saw the golden flecks in her eyes—the alarm. The rancher in her knew the danger. But he was looking at the woman. He liked everything he saw. Her dedication to her son and her job—her love of ranch life—her beauty and the way she stirred him.

Most of the women he’d dated over the years liked the ranch—as a nice place to visit. Not one wanted to live so isolated, they’d told him. Those he’d dated in college thought the town backward with nothing to do and nowhere to go.

Phyl seemed content here, equally happy in a saddle or helping Mom around the house.

It hadn’t been his intention to kiss her. But how could he not?

The unexpected surge of feelings that had swamped him at the touch of her lips had startled him. If she’d been willing, he would have made love to her right there on the rock. Thank God, one of them had been paying attention.

Her response brought a smile. The memory of how she’d leaned into him, given herself over to the kiss sent a flash of desire to his groin.

He’d never felt this way about a woman before. One kiss and he was lost in another world.

Thunder clapped. She jumped.

“How many do you think we lost?” she asked.

“Not lost,” he said, his voice hoarse. “We’ll find them tomorrow.”

She moved closer to the fire, away from him.

Two long strides took him to the bedroom. “You’ll get sick if you stay wet.” He came back, offered her a soft quilt. When she shook her head, he went to her, draped the quilt over her shoulders and handed her a towel. “Dry off and wrap yourself in this.”

“And you?” she asked as she tried to dry her hair.

He retrieved another quilt and wrapped himself in it. “I’ll be fine,” he said, wiping his face and hair with a second towel he’d collected. After taking off his boots and wet socks, he put his feet close to the fire. It felt good. Anything other than wet felt great. The only thing better would be Phyl in his arms.