Taking the Bull by the Horns (8 page)

"We're fine. Does that mean you'll leave now?"

"Why do you hate me so much?"

"I don't hate you. I don't feel anything for you. You are nothing to me.” Liar, liar, liar. She didn't hate her mother, that was true. But seeing her raised all kinds of hope, hope she hadn't let herself experience in four years. And in two years before that. And five years before that. She took a deep breath. “How long are you staying this time?"

"As long as you'll have me."

Lavender buried the hope those words raised. Hope that she could visit Taylor in Alpine, hope that she could move forward with her life, give some of her responsibilities back over to her mother.

She set the glass down on the counter. “Well. The sheets on your bed haven't been changed in awhile, but otherwise the room is ready. Church is at nine.” Lavender crossed the room to kiss her grandmother's cheek, nodded to her mother, and headed up the stairs.

Lavender dropped into the pew at church the next morning. Eleanor's sudden appearance had one benefit. She commandeered the gossip that would have focused on Lavender and her behavior at the Blue Bug last night. She had no illusions her actions would remain secret from Gertrude, but she was grateful for the reprieve.

Eleanor made her way to the seat beside her and Lavender struggled to balance her emotions. The little girl in her was excited to see her mother, more a fun relative than parent. Another part of her also held a childlike hope that her mother would step in, take over her own responsibilities, freeing Lavender.

For what? To chase Taylor to Alpine? She wouldn't do that, even if she could.

Who was she kidding? They'd had one night, that was it. No telling if he ever wanted to see her again, if he even wanted her to come to Alpine.

Still lost in her own thoughts after the service, Lavender wandered out of church with vague greetings to her neighbors and the minister. Her focus sharpened on a white horse trailer hitched to a battered blue Ford pick-up. And the long, lean cowboy with his arms folded over his chest, leaning against the fender. Her heart kicked hard, but she schooled her steps, excusing herself from her mother and grandmother to cross the lot toward him.

He'd had his gaze on her since she walked out of the church but he only straightened when she was a car length away. She wanted to throw herself against him but was too aware of her family no doubt watching. His eyes flicked behind her, confirming her suspicions.

"I thought you'd be on the road already,” she said, stopping a few feet away, close enough to smell him but not close enough to be tempted to touch.

"I thought you might want to say goodbye to Angelina.” He inclined his head toward the far side of the trailer, away from the curious eyes of the congregation.

"Yes, I would,” she murmured, her pulse picking up as she followed him.

Once they were out of sight, he spun and caught her in a fluid move, scooping his hand under her hair and covering her mouth with his. Only a moment passed before she overcame her surprise and parted her lips, sliding her palms across his shoulders, pressing against him, wanting the feel of him against her.

"I wanted to say goodbye,” he said, easing back just enough to look into her eyes, his fingers still threading through her hair.

She tilted her head and smiled. “You said goodbye last night."

"That was last night."

"How did you know where to find me?"

"I checked each of the churches until I saw your car.” He inclined his head toward her Toyota.

Surprise and pleasure bubbled up in her. She hadn't even realized he knew her car. They'd only known each other three days.

"Who's that with Gertrude?"

She followed his gaze between the truck and the trailer to where Eleanor stood on the steps, in the same clothes she'd been wearing last night. Lavender hadn't even seen her bring in any luggage, but then, Lavender had other things on her mind.

"My mother showed up last night."

He raised his eyebrows. “Not good news?"

She sighed. “That remains to be seen. Usually, no."

He stroked his fingers down her cheek and kissed her again, slowly, regretfully. “I've got to go."

She squeezed his shoulders, not wanting to release him. “It's harder to say goodbye today than it was last night."

Something flickered in his eyes and she instantly wished she hadn't said anything.

"I'll be back in three weeks,” he said, releasing her and backing toward the cab of his truck. She folded her arms in front of her and watched as he drove off with a wave out the driver's side window.

And then he was gone and she was left to face the congregation, all lined on the sidewalk, watching.

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"You did get in late last night,” Gertrude chided when the three women filed into the house after a silent ride from church.

Lavender rubbed a hand over her stomach as if that would relieve the tension tightening it. “You didn't notice this last night?” She was determined to remain casual about this as she walked to the fridge for eggs and sausage.

"I didn't realize you'd been making a fool of yourself with a rodeo cowboy."

Lavender bent over to retrieve the cast iron skillet from the cabinet beneath the stove, struggling to find words to defend herself. Heck, why should she have to defend herself? “Why shouldn't I have some fun?"

"Having fun is one thing, but making yourself an idiot over a man is something else.” Gertrude gave her daughter a pointed look, which Eleanor ignored as she spooned coffee into the filter. “Has he promised he'll be back?"

This time, Lavender glanced at her mother. “I know better than to believe those promises."

"It's different with a man, when sex is involved,” Gertrude said in the most matter-of-fact tone Lavender had ever heard her use.

Lavender's face heated. She did not want to discuss sex with her mother and grandmother. She never had in the past and didn't want to start now, with the memory of Taylor's touch so fresh.

"Do you want breakfast or not?” Lavender clanged the pan against the burners. “I have a right to a life, to not being lonely, okay? I deserve to be held, to be touched, to feel beautiful and wanted. And if I never see him again, if he never comes back, I have how he made me feel last night."

Gertrude sat at the table, her jaw set. “You've already been hurt so much."

"No one has that power anymore.” But even as she said it to the two women who stared at her, she knew it wasn't true. Taylor had already breached her defenses.

Taylor pulled his truck up in the circular drive in front of his ranch house, shut off the ignition and just sat.

He'd never had a hard time leaving an event, never spent an entire drive thinking about the woman he left behind.

What was different about Lavender?

Her acceptance of him, for one thing. After her initial reluctance to get to know him, she hadn't cared that he was a rodeo rider, didn't know about his former life, just accepted him for who he was.

That made it easy to be with her, to tease her, to coax out that pretty smile, that fun personality that seemed to be buried under all those layers of loneliness.

He looked through the dirty windshield at the mountains edging his ranch, framing his dream house.

His empty dream house. God, he knew what loneliness was.

He pulled the door handle and shoved his shoulder against the truck door. It creaked open and his housekeeper appeared on the wraparound porch, wiping her hands on her jeans, glancing at the truck in alarm. He didn't usually park this truck up here, usually left it at the stables with the trailer, but he had been too weary to walk up from the stables.

"Mr. Creighton? Are you all right? We were getting worried. Are you hungry? Dinner will be in a couple of hours, but if you need—"

He held up a hand to stop the flow of words and hefted his bag onto his shoulder. “I'll just get a sandwich or something later, Mrs. Bennigan. Don't go to any trouble."

Her lips tightened in disapproval, reminding him of Gertrude. “It's what you pay me for.” She reached for his duffle.

He relinquished it reluctantly. What would she think of the shirt Lavender had shredded? She'd probably throw it away and think he was a man-whore. At the last minute, he closed his hand around the strap.

"There's a few things I need out of here."

"I'll bring them to you."

"I'll just toss the clothes in the hamper.” He shifted the duffle back onto his shoulder.

"Mr. Creighton? Is something wrong? Are you feeling all right?"

"I'm good.” But he stopped and looked over what passed for a front lawn. “Do you think roses would grow out here?"

"I figured it out!” Jerri burst into Lavender's classroom after the morning announcements, waving a magazine.

Lavender looked up, startled, from tying Bethany's shoe. “What?” She straightened, her focus on the magazine.

"I knew I'd seen your cowboy somewhere.” Jerri jabbed a finger at the picture.

Lavender took the teen magazine. And there, in the middle of five young men known as Crushin', Taylor Craig smiled up at her, with a very white, very fake smile.

"He was in a boy band!” Jerri blurted, as if Lavender couldn't see the page in front of her. “I'd seen an interview not too long ago on one of those entertainment shows, you know, and they were talking about how Crushin’ was going to get back together and they showed Taylor's picture and said he couldn't be reached. He's the only hold-out, I think. They're even going back on tour, can you believe it?"

Lavender lowered herself slowly to the edge of one of the tables, oblivious to the children, only staring at the fake Taylor smile. Taylor Creighton was the name he went by then. He'd liked romantic dinners on the beach, mint chocolate chip ice cream and girls who had the natural look.

Naturally. She dragged her hand through her hair.

Taylor Creighton was in Crushin'. Well. That explained his sense of rhythm.

The noise level in her class brought her out of her shock, and she called them together for a math lesson, trying to put the picture out of her head.

But as soon as the class went out for PE, she hunkered down in front of her computer and started Googling.

Many of the sites were blocked by her district's filtering system, but she was able to discover that Taylor Creighton was twenty-seven now, twenty when he'd been in the boy band, so baby-faced, so slender. And wow, had he made bad fashion choices. Yeesh.

How had he gone from singing songs like “Love Me ‘Til the End of Time” and “Goin’ Crazy Tonight"—obnoxious earworms, both of them—to wrestling steers in a small town rodeo?

And why was he working...?

Of course, he wasn't working on a ranch. He didn't sleep in a bunkhouse, despite that battered truck and old RV. Her heart sank inexplicably when she realized her fantasy had only been, well, a fantasy. Instead of working on a ranch, no doubt he owned it.

Everything she thought she knew about him was wrong. She couldn't even say he'd lied to her because he hadn't told her anything. He'd neatly deflected any conversation that headed that way.

When they had talked.

She closed out the window and sat back on her rolling chair. Gertrude was right in more ways than she knew. Lavender had been a complete idiot over Taylor Creighton.

When she went home, though, she couldn't stay away from the computer, looking up old videos—the boy could dance—buying a couple of downloaded songs and trying to pick out his voice, that same low voice even at his young age.

She even found a couple of videos of interviews. His mannerisms were so different, so big and effusive. If not for the glint in his eyes, she wouldn't have believed Jerri.

The band broke up six years ago and Lavender couldn't find any information on Taylor Creighton after that, until speculation ran rampant the past few months, everything from whether he'd died in some horrible manner to wondering if he'd become a woman. Definitely not that.

She Googled Taylor Craig, and the first thing she could find on him was last year. What had happened in the intervening years?

She searched for more lurid information—scandals, gossip, anything that would explain why the band broke up. But any information was buried.

Why this discovery hurt, she couldn't say. Clearly he didn't want anyone to make the connection or he wouldn't have changed his name. It wasn't personal.

But nothing about this relationship was personal, was it?

She shut off the computer, climbed into bed and cried herself to sleep.

She busied herself with end of school activities—field day, field trips, kindergarten graduation. She didn't go back to the rodeo or the Blue Bug, but she did continue dance lessons with Roxie. She couldn't believe she'd tried to dance with a member of Crushin'.

She didn't think of Taylor more than a dozen times a day.

She was back in her life. This was where she belonged, not in a romance, in a relationship, in a cowboy's bed.

But summer loomed. Empty. Scary. Lonely.

Eleanor hadn't taken off yet, and finding her at the breakfast table was less of a surprise every morning. Lavender had to guard herself against complacency, because she knew that the moment she weakened and let her mother back into her heart—bam. As it was, Eleanor worked at becoming a part in their lives, wanting to run Gertrude on errands, but Lavender blocked her as often as possible. She saw her grandmother softening toward Eleanor and worried that Gertrude would be the one hurt this time.

At least Eleanor had let Roxie fix those awful gray roots and even out the ends of her hair, though Eleanor protested the loss of the length. Gertrude bought her new sandals and blouses that didn't display her large breasts quite so much. Lavender's grandmother even paid to tune up the station wagon that would take Eleanor out of their lives again.

Every day Lavender came home expecting to find Eleanor gone and Gertrude crying.

Her heart lurched the last Friday before school was out when she pulled into the driveway to find the station wagon gone. She left her purse in the car and bolted into the house. Panic tightened her chest when she could find neither Gertrude nor Eleanor. She thundered up the stairs to Eleanor's room.