The Other Brooks Boy (Texas Wildfire Series) (5 page)

"Wait. I
need a hug before you go. I don't think I've ever been separated from you for
two whole weeks. I'm going to miss you," Cara said. She reached to hug her
son, who sort of hugged her back. Greg wanted to kick his ass for his surly
attitude. But there would be time for that later. Right now, he needed to deal
with his own mess with Cara.

"All right,
go on now. I'll be there in a few minutes," he told Ryan.

They watched him
go, but as soon as the door closed Cara turned to him with a stricken look on
her face. "Oh, Greg ... I feel so bad about what happened Saturday
night."

He felt
blindsided by that. "About what?" he asked gingerly.

She looked
positively repentant and shot a look at the door to make certain her son was
truly out of hearing range. "About kissing you. I have no earthly idea
what came over me ... what caused me to do that. I'd blame it on the wine, but
you know I wouldn't drive under the influence and put my kids in danger of
becoming true orphans. There's no way I was drunk. But I didn't mean to do
that. It was just the night I guess. You'd been so sweet to me. And no man's
paid me any attention in forever. And you carried me across that parking lot.
And you looked so sexy in that tux. I guess I lost my mind for a minute there.
I'm so sorry." It had all spilled out of her in nearly one breath. And she
was wringing her hands, actually
wringing her hands
with anxiety.

Then a new
thought dawned.
She thought that she'd kissed him.
Wow.

"Well,
aren't you going to say anything?" She looked so worried.

He reached out
to comfort her, taking both her arms in his hands. "Cara ... hang on a
minute."

He tried to sift
through all that she'd said, but she'd said it so fast he couldn't process it.
At least not while she was standing there waiting on him to say something
intelligent. He drew a deep breath.

"Wow.
Okay." He dropped his hands from her arms and wiped his sweaty palms on
his jeans, then stuffed his hands in his back pockets. He couldn't remember the
last time he felt this nervous, but it had been a hell of a long time ago, that
much he knew. "Okay, so I was dreading coming over here today to tell you
I was sorry for kissing
you
." He let that dangle there for a minute
for her consideration.

Sure enough. It
flummoxed her. "Oh," she said, then blinked a couple of times and
looked away.

"Yeah."
It was all he could think of to say.

She grimaced.
"Well, this is awkward."

"Oh,
yeah," he said, nodding. The silence stretched for longer than was
comfortable. Okay, time for him to man up. "Listen, Cara ... it was me. I
knew you were going to kiss my cheek. You always kiss me on the cheek. But all
that same stuff applied to me, too. I'm not gonna lie. You looked like a
million bucks and felt so good in my arms when I carried you. It was too much
temptation."

She shoved her
own hands in her back pockets, too, and nodded.

"And we've
both been lonely for a while now," he said.

"You got
that right."

"We lost
our heads for a minute, okay? No big deal."

She nodded
again. "Right. I agree, Greg." One hand came up to ride her chest
near the notch in her neck and she let her dammed up breath out in a long sigh.
"Wow. I'm glad that's behind us."

"Is it then?"
he asked, wanting to be sure. Wanting to make things right between them.

She waved a hand
dismissively. "Oh, sure. I'm fine," she said. "Are you
fine?" she asked, almost an afterthought.

"Yeah. I'm
good," he said, then gave her one of those awkward sideways,
shoulder-to-shoulder hugs. No way he was going to feel those breasts shoved up
against his chest again anytime soon.

"Good,"
she said. And he could tell she was relieved. "Thank you for taking Ryan.
That's a long trip you saved me."

"No sweat.
I need to see what O.U. has up their athletic sleeve anyway. Won't hurt to
scout things out while I'm up there. And I'm stopping back by Fort Worth
tomorrow to see my old college bud, Rand Hamilton. Haven't seen him in like
three years.  It's all good."

"Oh,
wow...I remember Rand. I didn't know you guys even talked anymore.  I'm
glad you're stopping by to see him."

"Yeah,
it'll be good to reconnect." He moved toward the door and put his
sunglasses back on. "Talk to you when I get home, okay?"

"Sure.
Y'all be careful." She hugged herself with both arms, and he felt like a
heel again because he should have been able to do that. She probably needed a
good hug as she was sending both her kids off for summer activities.

"Hey, and
don't forget you owe me a class reunion. It's next weekend."

He looked at her
over his aviators and frowned. "How could I forget? It's our fortieth
birthday. Remember?"

"Yes, I
remember. Just wanted to make sure you did, too."

He gave her the
thumbs up and headed out the door.

 He walked
to the truck with a head full of new knowledge, but there was little time to
process any of it. He had Ryan's ass to kick all the way to Norman,
figuratively, of course, but kicking it, nonetheless. The boy clearly needed
some remedial education in how one spoke to one's mother. Greg wasn't putting
up with that crap for another minute.

But Ryan was no
fool. He'd wedged himself in the corner of the truck cab and was either
feigning sleep or truly a teenager through and through. They could sleep any
time, any place, Greg figured.

So he had some
quiet windshield time to think about what had happened with Cara. Not just the
discussion either. He thought about that kiss. The revelation that she thought
she had kissed him was a complete game changer. And it took him by unholy
surprise.

He had to think
about this for a while, try to wrap his mind around exactly what happened last
Saturday. She'd been flirty all night. No doubt about it. Whispering in his ear
when she first came in  ... telling him how good he looked in his tux. And
looking pretty much like a single woman out there on the dance floor with some
hip hop moves that showed her assets at their best. And twirling that leg
around for him to see her pedicure while he'd carried her. Yeah, flirty stuff.
But he'd taken it pretty much all under the brother-in-law clause. She knew
damn good and well he was safe territory. She always had flirted with him.
Since ... well, hell, since high school, he figured. They'd been in the same
class, while Jason was already attending U.T. classes, and she'd treated Greg
the same way then. Flirting and teasing with him because she knew he wouldn't
do a damn thing with it. He was as safe as home plate in a home run.

Until now.

What was he to
do with the knowledge that she thought she'd kissed him? Did it mean that she'd
wanted to kiss him? That she'd been attracted to him? Really attracted? And if
so, what the hell were they going to do about a
mutual
attraction?
Because he was done denying that he was attracted to Cara. There was no denying
it. He didn't understand how you could be a part of someone's life in one
capacity for twenty years and suddenly find yourself looking at them
differently one day. But there it was. Right in his face.

He wanted her.

Greg called her
on Sunday afternoon when he got home from Fort Worth, and they had a perfectly
normal conversation. It felt totally normal. Well, except for the part when
she'd seen his name on her phone and got a belly full of butterflies. That was
definitely not normal. Otherwise, it seemed normal. Ryan had made it to camp
fine. He might have been missing a little of his butt. Greg assured her they
had had some serious discussion about authority and respect, and that he
expected a change in Ryan from now on.

That was a
relief. She was tired of being a single parent. Not that Greg was Ryan's
parent, of course, but it did feel good that someone had her back on this
issue.

Maddie left for
New York on Wednesday after so much drama about what to take and what to leave
home. Cara had been ready to pull her hair out by the time she put her on the
plane. Maybe fighting with her children was God's way of allowing her to let
them go for a few weeks. They all needed a break from one another, she'd about
decided. She'd held them so fearfully close after Jason's death until they
probably felt a little smothered. And she needed the time, too.

She was in that
sweet spot of summer. No private dance lessons to teach this month, and cheer
day camp was still a couple of weeks away. Nothing to do that she didn't want
to. Yeah, she could get used to this.

Her Aunt
Francesca called on Wednesday and they had a great visit, talking for well over
an hour.  Her mother's much younger sister was dear to Cara, only ten
years older than she, but lived in California, and Cara saw far too little of
her these days.  Francesca had been a teen in Cara's childhood, a
glamorous, gorgeous, ultra-cool female to admire and emulate when her own
mother had been distant and elusive.  Summers spent with her grandparents
and Francesca in California were among Cara's most cherished memories.

"Have you
spoken with your mother recently?" Francesca asked in that subtle tone she
employed so well. It seemed innocent enough, but Cara knew it hid what was
going on in Francesca's mind. And there was always plenty going on in Fran's
mind.

Cara rolled her
eyes, happy Francesca wasn't technologically savvy enough to want to actually
see her while they talked on the phone.  "No, Fran.  I
haven't."  It was a well-worn path for the two of them.  Every
time they spoke, Fran asked Cara about her mother, grieving the estrangement
between Cara and Carlotta.  And while Cara might not call her relationship
with her mother "estranged", it was certainly not comfortable.

There was a
moment of silence on the other end of the line, and Cara could only imagine
that Fran was rolling her own eyes or making some other despairing gesture,
always so dramatic.  She sighed finally. "Well, all right. I won't
revisit that haggard refrain.  But do think about calling her now and
again, darling. I know she would love to speak with you."

"The phone
works both ways, dear Fran. If Carlotta wanted to speak to me, she'd
call," Cara said plainly.

"Well
enough.  Don't let's quibble.  I'm calling today to tell you that Ren
is coming to Texas soon," Francesca said. Ren was Francesca's younger son,
probably in his mid to late twenties, if Cara remembered correctly. He'd
actually been the ring bearer in Cara's wedding, she recalled, thinking how
adorable he'd been back then. Something of a hellion in the past few years, Ren
had been saved from the brink of self-destruction, Cara knew, by his angelic
charm and good looks and his father Taddy's extraordinarily deep pockets. Taddy
Maggio was a very wealthy man, by anyone's standards. 

"Really?"
Cara asked. "I'm surprised he'd leave that Hollywood party scene for love
or money. What's he coming for?"

Fran sighed
deeply. "Perdition primarily. Taddy has lost all patience with Ren for his
spending and wild ways. He's sending him to work off his penance in some
terrible, obscure place in Texas ... some distribution center Taddy owns not
too far from you, I don't believe."

"Where is
it?" Cara asked.

"Somewhere
around Blanco, I believe, wherever that is. Oh, I don't know exactly, but it's
just bound to be a hell hole. Taddy swears this is the last straw for my boy.
He's absolutely unbending about it this time," Fran said, obviously upset
with the thought of her son being sent so far away.

"Well, he's
more than welcome to come stay for a while. I'll do whatever I can to help, of
course," Cara assured her. 

"Thank you,
darling. You have no idea how worried I am about Ren.  He's so wonderful,
Cara, in so many ways, but he's simply got to grow up now, or his father is
going to be done with him.  He swears it. And I believe it this time. My
heart is just broken, Cara," Fran said, her distress evident.

"Well, have
him call me when he's coming. I'm happy to help in any way. I'd love to see
Ren."

"And just
wait until you do, Cara. He's simply the most beautiful of my children, though
I will call you a liar if you ever tell that I've confessed such," Fran
told her in her usual melodramatic fashion.

Cara laughed,
enjoying Fran, even with all the drama. It was always a joy to visit with
Francesca.  Later that afternoon, Cara thought for about half a second of
calling her mother, then thought better of it. It would only dredge up old
hurts and issues.  She just wasn't in the mood for that this week.
Besides, she was on vacation. She didn't
have
to do anything she didn't
want.

She curled up on
the couch and read a good book Thursday afternoon after having given her hair a
good conditioning with avocado and shea butter.  She'd showered it all out
and blown her hair dry, but opted for a no makeup day, and was barely dozing on
the sofa when she heard the sounds of a motorcycle out front. Did Greg still
have that big Harley he used to ride sometimes? It was fuzzy, her memory about
it in her half-wakeful state.

"Cara?"
he called from the back door, waking her from her half-dozing state with a
start. She sat bolt upright on the sofa and turned to find him standing in the
back doorway. "Oh, sorry," he said. "I figured you'd be in the
pool this afternoon. I went around through the gate looking for you. Are you
napping?"

She slumped back
over into the pillows. "I was," she said, her voice muffled by the
upholstery.

He walked over
and tickled the bottom of one bare foot making her whole leg jump. "Well,
get up. It's a perfect day for barbeque and a sunset ride in the Hill
Country."

She rolled over,
her face half hidden in pillows, but looked him over with one eye, thankful she
hadn't put two eyes to the task. He freakin'
oozed
sex appeal. In
spades. Oh, Lord. That was all she could think of at the moment. He wore faded
blue jeans with holes in both knees, an ancient denim shirt with the sleeves
ripped out of it, and a red bandana tied around his head to keep his hair out
of his eyes. Aviator sun glasses and sturdy black boots completed the
devastating ensemble. And here she lay in tired yoga pants, a tank top, not one
smear of makeup on her face, and no bra. Just great.

"Give me
five minutes?" she asked, still half hiding in the loose pillows of her
sofa.

"You have
three, and the Hog's rollin'. Hustle, girl. We're burnin' daylight."

She rolled to
her feet and ran to her bathroom and did the flight of the bumble bee,
stripping off clothes and standing in her closet wondering what to wear
instead. A bra. A bra was good. She'd start there. She slipped that on and
stood there considering her options. Jeans for sure. But what shirt?

"Two
minutes," he shouted from the other end of the house.

"Hang!
On!"
she yelled back.
Good grief. Give a girl a minute here.

She finally
grabbed something and slipped it over her head, did a swish of bronzer on her
nose and cheeks, then quickly brushed on some mascara and a little lip gloss.
It would have to do. She grabbed a band for her hair and pushed her feet into
her favorite flip flops and was ready to go right as she heard him yell,
"Your time is up, Caroline. Let's get this show on the road."

She rounded the
corner of the den and found him lazing with his boots on her coffee table, his
hands folded across his lean middle, and his eyes closed, aviators riding the
bandana atop his head.

"What are
you waitin' on now, Gregory?" she asked from the front door.

He sat up,
surprised to find himself behind, and followed her out the door with a chuckle.

They rode and
rode, up and down the winding backwoods roads around Lake Travis, and it was,
indeed the perfect day for a sunset ride. The sky looked like a painting, with
layers of pink and orange and purple clouds cutting through the burnt orange
globe setting on the western horizon.

He stopped along
a ridge and they enjoyed the view for a minute or two. "See? That's how
you know God's a Longhorn fan. Check out the color of that sunset," he said.
Cara thought he might have something there, wowed by the beauty of it spreading
out over the Texas Hill Country.

They stopped at
a tiny roadside trailer to buy barbeque from a grizzled, white headed man who
wielded a butcher knife with murderous expertise and made some of the best
smoked beef brisket Cara had ever tasted, and they washed it all down with cold
beer at a scarred picnic table under a mesquite tree.

It felt kinda
like a date, except that they'd hardly talked while riding, the helmet he'd
insisted she wear making communication difficult. Very little had been
exchanged beyond him pointing at some distant vista and her nodding.

But her senses
were doing more than their fair share of communicating with Cara. Loud and
clear. They noted the way his jeans hugged his muscled thighs. He couldn't wear
anyone else's jeans and have them look like that. It came from the very fibers
of the lucky fabric memorizing the shape of his butt and thighs and taking on
those characteristics after so many
wearings
. These
jeans had history. And that shirt with the sleeves missing, flapping in the
breeze, the frayed-edge threads blowing back in the wind to tickle her neck as
she leaned in close, and the scent of him engulfing her in the wind tunnel
effect from his collar. It was about to drive her insane. How did he always
smell so good? No matter what, he always smelled like some sexy men's cologne
model. Not that she'd ever actually gotten close enough to smell a cologne
model. She did have a rather good imagination, after all. He smelled just as
good, she was certain.

They'd finished
dinner, and it began to get dark. "You ready?" he asked, handing her
the helmet.

Ready for what?
she wanted to
ask him, but figured that might sound a little pushy. But after holding on to
his waist all afternoon and feeling the pull of his muscles as they leaned into
one turn after another, her mind was going places it shouldn't. Even his arms
were sexy, she decided. Tanned and defined with sinew and muscles all cut up in
his forearms and deltoids. Lord, she was in a bad way. And that wasn't good.

"I'm
ready," she said, and knew there were hardly ever truer words spoken.

In a while, they
pulled into her driveway and he killed the bike and allowed her to get off
before him. She was actually a little saddle sore, she noted, and very hot from
the combination of Texas road heat and the warmth coming off the big bike.

"Want a
beer before you hit the road? I've restocked the outside fridge."

"Sounds
great," he said, and followed her through the gate and around to the
backyard.

She dug them out
a couple of cold ones and walked over to the pool. "I don't know about
you, but I'm hot as Hades. I'm going to dip my feet in the pool."

"Oh, hell
yeah. Great idea." He unlaced his boots and removed them, then his socks,
and he rolled up his jeans a few times before sitting down beside her on the
edge of the pool. She was already waving her feet around in the glorious
coolness of the water, but he sank his in as well, and she watched as a look of
pure bliss crossed his face. Sexy again. Oh, God, she needed to stop.
Everything about him made her think about sex. What the hell had happened to
her?

But he wasn't
cutting her any slack at all. He leaned back and stretched out those muscled
thighs, dipping his feet in and out of the water.  And all the while he
made groaning noises that made her think about sex again.

"Okay, you
have to stop with the moaning and groaning. My neighbors are going to wonder
what's going on over here in the dark."
Seriously
.

He chuckled and
dropped his feet back into the water, then took a draw off his beer. "My
feet get hot in those boots. This feels so good after that long ride. Sorry if
I'm tainting your reputation with the neighbors."

She felt a shade
guilty for blaming it on the neighbors. "Oh, I doubt they're really paying
any attention. Besides, we planted those trees and shrubs for plenty of privacy
out here. You can't see the pool from any of the neighboring houses."

He leveled her
with a solid look, straight up interested. "Good to know."