The Other Brooks Boy (Texas Wildfire Series) (12 page)

"You're
splitting hairs, Cara," he said, his expression flat and angry.

Cara gathered
her purse and gifts and, without another word to Greg, followed Barbara into
the kitchen. "I'm sorry to end the evening like this, Barbara. Thank you
for a lovely birthday dinner," she said.

Barbara turned
to face her, studying her closely. "I'm sorry, too. Are you okay?"

She wobbled her
head indecisively. "I don't know. I'm sure it will pass. But dinner was
delicious, and you are so sweet to have made such a fuss. I love you," she
said, pressing her cheek to Barbara's.

Barbara's cool
hand came up to hold Cara's opposite cheek. "I love you, too, darling. Be
careful going home."

Greg watched her
walk out the door without so much as a glance his way. It felt like every other
walk out end to a relationship he'd ever experienced and it made his gut churn.
Was it as simple as all that? Just a few words of a spat and she walks out on
him?

Barbara came
into the den, wiping her wet hands on a cup towel and eyeing him cautiously.

"Care to
fill me in on what that was about?"

"Not
particularly," he answered.

"Well, for
goodness sake, Greg, what am I to make of that? You two put an abrupt and
rather rude end to the party, and you don't feel you owe me some explanation,
at least?" she asked, perturbed with his reticence.

"I'm sorry
it put a damper on the party. And I appreciate you going to the trouble and
all," he said, but that was all he felt he could offer at the moment.

Barbara wasn't
going down without a fight. "Have you two had some sort of disagreement
before tonight?"

He pushed to his
feet, restless and caged. "No, Mom. Just let it go. It'll work out."

She moved into
his line of vision, forcing him to look at her. "I hope so, Greg. This
family means everything to me. And we're all Cara has with her family being so
far way. I couldn't stand it if you and Cara found you couldn't be civil to one
another. For whatever reason. Please don't destroy what we have," she
said, and her voice quivered.

It pushed him
over the edge. "I'm sorry, Mom." He kissed her cheek. "Don't
worry, okay?" She nodded, but worry still rimmed her eyes. He picked up
his helmet and left.

He rode in the
deepening darkness, weaving his way aimlessly through the hilly neighborhoods
of west Austin. What the hell was he supposed to do now? Buckle under and keep
this thing under wraps in spite of how beneath her that made him feel? What was
her total reluctance to revealing their relationship? Was she ashamed of it?
Deep down afraid of how she would be regarded for taking up with her dead
husband's brother?

Greg rarely
analyzed things so deeply. It was what it was. It either worked or it didn't.
He didn't usually worry much about what someone else thought of how he lived
his life, practiced his religion or did his job. He did what he felt was right
... what he'd been reared to
know
was right, and that was good enough
for him. If Cara was going to be hung up on what others thought about them
being together, it might put an end to this thing before it got started good.

Trouble was, it
felt pretty deeply rooted in him already. The thought of ending it with Cara
made his insides roll over and left him feeling utterly empty.

He rode for a
while, no destination in mind, but wanting no part of going home to an empty
home, an empty bed.

He felt his
phone vibrate in his back pocket, and pulled over at the next stop sign to read
the text message.

If your anger has subsided,
we need to talk
.

He couldn't say
that his anger was gone, but the text resurrected some hope in him. Close
enough.  He typed an answer.

Your place or mine?

In seconds she
responded.

 
Mine. The kids
called. Both are spending the night out.

He shoved the
phone back in his pocket and headed that way.

She was waiting
for him on the porch in a round puddle of yellow light, feet bare, hair a mess,
nose a red bulb in the middle of her splotchy, tear-stained face, and she'd
never looked so beautiful to him. The sadness in her eyes threw sand on what
remained of his anger, and he drew her into his arms and held her tight. Her
hands gathered fistfuls of his shirt at his back as she buried her face in his
chest, and Greg felt her shoulders shaking as she gave into the tide of emotion
that had clearly had her in its grip since they parted. He realized, with no
small measure of guilt, that it actually made him feel better to see her so
grieved by their spat. Maybe she was in deeper than he'd thought. Maybe she was
even in as deep as he was. He soothed her and herded her into the house and
closed the door behind them.

"Hey ...
Sunshine," he said, reaching for her chin.

She snuggled
into his chest more deeply and refused to budge, though her crying began to
ease some.

He gave up
trying to get her to look at him and simply sought to soothe her with long
strokes up and down her back, soft kisses pressed to the top of her head.
"I'm sorry, babe. So sorry I hurt your feelings tonight," he said.
And Lord knew he was. He could hardly stand to see her like this and know it
was because of things he'd said to her.

"Me,
too," she said and sniffed. "I said that ugly thing about you not
being an authority on parenting," she said, hiccupping and stuttering through
it all until he could hardly understand her. "And you've b-been more of a
parent to my children than their father was for the last two years of his
l-life." She barked a harsh sob into his shirt front, then sniffed again
and raised her head to look at him with utter misery in her expression.
"That was so ugly and uncalled for. I'm so sorry I said that."

"Shh, Cara
... babe, stop. Just stop this. We both said things we shouldn't have. Let's
put it all behind us. It's going to be all right, love," he said. And he
actually thought it might.

She nodded and
pushed her unruly mop of hair back from her face, then moved to the sofa where
a half-empty box of tissues sat on a cushion surrounded by the contents of the
other half, all wadded into tight little balls of misery. She blew her nose,
then gathered up the evidence and took it to the garbage in the kitchen.

Greg sat down on
the sofa and watched her, wondering about the depth of feeling he had for her.
 Beth had cried so often during their marriage until he'd grown almost
immune to it. But Cara's tears, those great messy,
gulpy
sobs had nearly torn his heart out. And to think he'd caused them made it even
worse. What an ass he was.

Cara joined him
on the sofa, sitting Indian style sideways, her knees pressing into the side of
his thigh. She dragged his hand to her lap and laced their fingers together,
then raised it to her lips and kissed his knuckles sweetly. "You're a good
man, Gregory Brooks. You're honest and real and loyal and stand up. You're the
whole enchilada. And I'm so blessed to have you in my life," she said, but
her eyes were still full of sadness, and he felt his gut take flight, afraid to
hear what she might say next.

"Oh, come
on now," he said, stalling really, not wanting her to say they had to stop
seeing one another, or that the rules were going to change somehow. He didn't
want it to be anything less than what they'd had. More is what he really
wanted, but her expression didn't give him a lot of confidence she would be
offering that. Not at all. "It's not necessary for you to grease my skids,
Cara. This spat--" he raised their joined hands to lift her chin so she
might look him in the eye, " ... and that's all it is ... just a spat ...
is no big deal. Don't make it into something more than it is, babe."

She dropped her
gaze back to their joined hands in her lap, but she nodded.

"It
probably has as much to do with sexual frustration as anything else. I could
hardly keep my hands off you tonight," he said.

"I know.
When you came in wearing these jeans I about melted. You know they're my very
favorite," she said, cutting her eyes at him as if he should be ashamed.
It relaxed him a tiny bit.

"What?
These old things?" he said, a grin playing with the corners of his mouth,
though he tried to deny it.

She ran a hand
along the inside of his thigh. "Yes, these old things. They hug your
thighs and butt like I want to. I thought about luring you into Barbara's
powder room for a quickie but lost my nerve," she admitted.

Just the thought
of knocking one off in secret while everyone ate birthday cake gave him wood.
He reached to drag her into his lap. "We could pretend in your powder
room." He leaned her back in his arms, her head resting on the arm of the
sofa, her hip nestled into his lap. He raised his brows, questioning.

She reached up
and laid her palm against his cheek, obviously not feeling adventurous or
playful.

"Just kiss
me, Greg."

He needed no
coercion, but she led him with her palms on either side of his face, pulling
him to meet her sweet mouth. It was soft and gentle, a healing kiss, tender and
warm and sorry, and it went through him like a freshly honed saber in a skilled
hand, carving his heart to mince. His breath hitched in his chest, and he
wanted to drown in her goodness, her sweet, loving, unfettered light and
cheerfulness. He wanted to saturate himself with the honest-to-goodness good
that was Cara Brooks. She deserved so much more than Jason had given her. More
than life had given her. And he wanted to be the man who made up for it. Acknowledging
that in his mind made his heart actually hurt in his chest with a bittersweet
pang he'd never felt before. It should have scared the crap out of him, but it
didn't. It felt too damned right to scare him.

He broke the
kiss, but leaned his forehead against hers. "Aw, babe ... let's don't
fight anymore. I can't stand to see you hurt like that," he said.

"What are
we going to do then? How do we resolve this issue? You saw how angry and
resentful Ryan was at the mere thought that I might be seeing someone,"
she said, and the misery was still there in her voice.

"We go on
like we've been doing for the past few weeks. It's not perfect, but I promise
not to rag you about telling the kids." He shrugged then, and she watched
him for a long time without saying anything. He was making all the concession,
his male ego told him from somewhere in the back of his mind, but he didn't
care. All that mattered was that he could still be with Cara. His ego was big
enough to handle the other.

She got to her
feet and reached for his hand, then led him to her bedroom, and his ego decided
it was worth the concession.

It set the pace
for the weeks to come. They talked on the phone daily, at least, some days more
frequently, but only managed to actually see one another about once a week. And
that was often with kids in tow, so sex was in constant short supply between
them. They'd even resorted to phone sex a time or two, but both found it sorely
lacking. Once they'd stolen a quickie in Cara's laundry room, and had barely
missed getting caught by Maddie who came home from dance early. It seemed to
solidify the fear in Cara's mind that if they continued to sneak around, they
were eventually going to get caught. It was only a matter of time.

And it made her
just shy of crazy.

Actually the
whole relationship with Greg was making her crazy, she'd decided. She thought
about him constantly, wanted to share everything with him. Happenings at the
studio, Ryan's struggle in History class, and the funny noise coming from the
pool pump lately were all things she wanted to share with him. She wanted to
laugh with him over something funny Etta had said, or see the pride in his eyes
about some accomplishment Maddie had attained. Cara wanted to hear about his
day and his travel plans for the coming week and the new recruit they were
courting for his superhuman ability to sink a three pointer every single time.
She wanted to share everyday life with him. Every day.

And about the time
loneliness and sexual frustration got the best of her, something would happen
to push her right back into her resolve to keep it all a secret from the world.

She had just
hung up with Greg one night when Ryan knocked at her bedroom door.

"Mom?"
he called through the door.

"Come
in," she answered.

"Hey, I
need new running shoes. Mine are too small," he told her.

"No
doubt," she said, looking down at his long, skinny feet. "You look
like you're walking around on skis lately."

He shot her a wry
look, then stretched out crossways near the foot of her bed, long manly-looking
legs hanging off a good ten inches. "You been on the phone?" he
asked.

She nodded, but
sent him a dark look. "You really can hear me in your room, can't
you?"

"Yeah,
kinda," he said, and shrugged. "I really can't tell what you're
saying. And I don't try to eavesdrop or anything. I can just hear your muffled
voice and know you're talking on the phone."

"Good to
know," she said, relieved to have him confirm it again.

He studied her
for a moment. "So I guess you're talking to someone anyway." It
wasn't a question exactly.

She nodded.

"Are you
dating?" he asked, his brows drawing together, though she could tell he
was trying to be cool about it all.

"How would
you feel if I was?" She tried to be cool herself, keeping it light and
hypothetical.

"I wouldn't
like it, I don't think," he said. The frown deepened.

"Why
not?"

He snorted a
little and looked appalled at her inability to see the obvious. "Because
you're my mom." He might as well have rolled his eyes and added,
"Duh," to the statement.

"And that
takes me out of the dating scene?" she asked.

He rolled to his
back and started tossing a throw pillow from her bed up toward the ceiling.
"I don't know." He tossed it a couple of times more. "Do you
want to date anyone? I mean, Dad's been gone for not even two years," he
said, making it plain he didn't think it sufficient time for her to have
finished grieving.

She watched him
for a time as he continued to toss the pillow rather than look at her directly.
He had turned Jason into some sort of an idol in the past couple of years.
Being younger than Maddie, Ryan hadn't seemed to have noticed the faults in his
father that his sibling had. As far as Ryan was concerned, there was no one who
could fill his dad's shoes. Not even as a man in Cara's life.

"Ryan, I'm
always going to love your father for the happy years we had together and for
the very fact that he gave me you and Maddie. But I want to know that you'll be
okay with it when I do decide I want to start seeing people again."

He rolled off
the bed in a smooth move and fired the pillow back to the head of her bed
football style, like a Hail Mary pass from the fifty yard line.
"Fine," he said, and turned to go. "Let's talk again then."

So much for
that. She sighed and fell back against the pillows, resigned to wearing her
virtual widow's weeds a while longer.

***

Autumn had
proven petulant and dreary with strings of overcast days and cool temperatures,
something of a rarity in Texas, but wholly befitting her mood, Cara decided.
The tiptoeing, secret-keeping sneaking around to be with Greg was wearing on
her until she had taken to fantasizing about how to tell the kids. Then reality
would slap her around and she'd chicken out. Greg remained true to his promise
though, and never once pressured her to tell them. She knew, however, that the
stipulations she put on their relationship were hard for him to live with. They
were hard for her, too.

They were less than
a month into the school year, and already Cara was bored with the routine of
what to pack the kids for lunch and the ever present search for ways to make
dance class fresh and exciting for her students.

"You should
do this," Etta said decisively, slapping a colorful brochure on the desk
in front of Cara.

"What is
it?" Cara asked, picking it up to examine it.

"It's that
highfalutin Southern States Dance Syndicate thing they do ever year down in
Florida. I remember you sayin' you wished you could go last year," Etta
told her. She sifted through the rest of the mail, dropping most in the garbage
can and tossing what was important onto her own desk.

Cara remembered
seeing the brochure last year, a few months after Jason's death, and wishing to
go. But the kids were in no shape to have been left by her at that point in
their grieving.

"Yes, I
remember looking at this last year. They have some interesting workshops
listed. It might be worth the money. It's pretty reasonable. Wonder what a
flight to Miami costs these days?"

"It don't
matter, baby. You goin'," Etta said in that distracted way that meant she
wasn't wasting any thought or effort for debate. Her mind was made up.

"What if I
don't want to go?" Cara asked, knowing the fight was virtually futile when
Etta got a bee in her bonnet about something.

Etta, big bossy
thing that she was, shot her a
I mean business
look. "Oh, you wanna
go. A few days in South Beach ... no kids ... nice hotel?" She snorted.
"You wanna go."

And she did,
damn it. But Etta shouldn't be making that kind of decision without considering
all the details. "I may not be able to afford it, Etta," Cara argued,
feeling childish for doing so, but doing it all the same. "And what would
I do with my kids? And who would teach my beginner's ballet class on that
Friday?"

Etta turned to
face her fully then, eyebrows raised authoritatively, lips pursed, hands on her
ample hips. "You ain't payin' for one thing, baby. Enrollment is up eight
percent this fall, and we can afford to send you, no problem. It's a business
expense, so it's a write off."

"Oh,"
Cara said, put in her place.

"Mmm-huh.
That's what I thought," Etta said and turned back to her desk.

"That still
doesn't take care of my kids." Cara was ready to go online and sign up,
but wasn't ready to throw in the towel with Etta all full of smug.

"You know
good and
well
Miss
Barbara'd
love to come take care of those
grands
. And if she's
runnin
' off to Houston to see her hottie, then I'll do it.
And Maddie can teach your Friday class." She pitched the last piece of
junk mail in the garbage and nodded decisively at Cara.

And that seemed
to be that. Cara shrugged. "Well, all right then. I'll go."

"See if you
can't manage to get in some horizontal exercise while you there, baby. You been
so grouchy lately I can't hardly stand your behind," Etta said all
nonchalant.

"Grouchy?"
she asked, affronted. "Me?"

"Yes, you,
Miss
I Ain't Seein' Nobody
."

Cara narrowed
her eyes at Etta. "Girl, you're like a dog with a bone. I swear."

Etta knew. Or at
least, she
thought
she knew that Cara and Greg were seeing one another
on the sly. And it ate her lunch that Cara wouldn't admit to it and give her
all the juicy details.

"I ain't
askin' you nothin'. I'm just sayin' that,
should
you go, maybe
Mr.
Nobody
might just happen to have some business ... like some college sports
business in South Beach at that same time, real convenient like, you
know?" She managed to look slightly injured about the shut out, but still
smug.

Cara shook her
head. "You have a very vivid imagination, my friend."

"Oh, baby
... you have no idea," Etta said, making them both laugh.