True-Blue Cowboy Christmas (23 page)

“I'll stay at the Shaw house. I have a key, and I don't want you and Kate waking up to let me in.”

“I wouldn't mind.”

“I know.” Something about her voice was off. Distracted, he supposed. “The Shaws will be easier. I have some stuff there, and…it would just make more sense. I wish it would make more sense to come to you, I do.”

“You really don't have to worry. I'm probably being paranoid.”

“Yeah. Of course. Um, I'm so sorry… I have to go…”

“Yeah, no, I totally understand. Hey, I…” No. He wasn't going to tell her over the phone while she was at her job. There were better ways to do it. “Be careful, huh?”

“I will. I'll, um, text you. I don't want you to worry.”

“I can call Caleb, have him pick you up if you don't want to drive alone.”

“No, it's okay. If I'm worried, I…I'll see if Rose can drop me off. If not, I'll get Dan or… It'll be fine. You just stay put and keep Kate safe.”

“All right.”

“Thack…” She blew out a breath. “I have to go, but…um…I just wanted you to know…” Someone shouted something that sounded like her name. “I love you,” she said, almost in a whisper, almost inaudibly.

But he heard it. He'd absolutely heard it. “I love you too,” he replied, clutching his phone a little tighter, clutching his handle on this whole thing a little tighter.

He had the sneaking suspicion she'd ended the call before she'd heard his response.

Summer hated lying. She was terrible at it. Her mother had been the one to tell her that, time and time again. Why couldn't she pretend better? Why couldn't she fool people? Just smile and tell them everything was
wonderful
?

Well, she was fooling people now, better than she ever had. She'd keep doing it to the best of her ability, because she was going to save the people she loved from the woman who had given birth to her.

It would be so easy to be willfully obtuse and ignore the signs—ignore the slight messing with her stuff, the platform, the fact Thack had had a
woman
come to his door with a vibe that worried him.

But ignoring it all put everyone she loved in a vague kind of danger. Mom could be unstable, and Summer had no doubt that if Mel and Caleb came across her, or knew she was here, it would hurt them badly.

They each had a complex relationship with their images of Mom, thanks to the way she'd abandoned them, and Summer had never known how to broach that or fix it. The reality was just as grim as their feelings, if not more.

It would hurt them. Mom could hurt them. Just by existing, really.

Summer had no doubt that Caleb and Mel would step between her and hurt. Even when Mel hadn't been sure about Summer, there had been moments when she'd stepped up and acted like an older sister, like a protector.

Now it was Summer's turn. It was her fault Mom was here, so she would make sure to fix this without Mel or Caleb ever being the wiser.

Summer killed the lights of her car as she crested the hill that led to her caravan. She didn't want to chance Thack seeing headlights through the trees and knowing she'd ignored his warning. Besides, the moon was bright and she knew the way.

Because she
knew
the woman wandering around the Lane property
had
to be her mother. There were no other explanations left. Summer was the only one who could face her, who could fix this.

Her heart pounding so hard it felt as though her whole body vibrated, Summer stopped the car and pulled the keys out of the ignition. Everything was silent and dark and eerie, but she would not be brought down by fear.

Her legs might shake, her breath might come in shallow puffs, but as she crossed the yard and walked to her caravan, she was determined to be strong. Determined to do what needed to be done.

She wouldn't let Mom make her a pawn again. She would face Mom, and she would fight, no matter the consequences. But most importantly, she would not let her mother level a threat at the people she loved. Summer might have to leave behind the world she'd built, the world she loved, but at least everyone else would be safe. All that love would be safe if she could be strong and draw Mom away.

Summer smelled the invasion before she saw it. It was Mom's heavy-handed, cloying perfume, and it was amazing how that scent could throw her back years. Summer trembled, but
she
was the reason Mom was this close to the Shaws.

Which meant she had to be brave. She had to take on those lessons in courage and strength she'd learned watching Mel and Delia the past year.

“Hello, Mother,” Summer offered into the dark of her caravan.

“Hello, darling daughter.” The battery-operated lamp clicked on. “Not surprised to find me here?”

“I think I got your messages loud and clear.”

Mom was blond now. She didn't look any older. Aside from the different hair and the trendy clothing, she looked exactly the same. A pettiness that Summer never felt except with her mother bubbled up and out. “Dating a plastic surgeon?”

“Just excellent genes, darling. You'll thank me eventually.” Mom looked her up and down. “If you ever get over this ridiculous flower-child hippie nonsense.”

“Why are you here? You said you'd never come back to Montana.”

“I did?” Mom tilted her head, pretended to ponder it. “Hmm. You must have heard me wrong. I've missed my home like a…like a missing limb. I grew up here. The mountains are a part of me. I've longed for the way the world goes gold on a summer evening.”

Summer could almost believe it. If she hadn't been away for so long, if she hadn't discovered what real love was, she might have believed it. Mom was a convincing actress. But her mother had been warped when it came to love a long time ago. Something had twisted inside her so that she could only see herself, her needs, her wants, and everyone else was simply standing in her way.

Summer had people to protect now, people she would keep from being bulldozed by Mom's self-obsession, which meant she couldn't fall into the trap of feeling sorry for her. She couldn't take time to try to get Mom to see the light, to change. Summer could only try to get her away from this place.

Even if Summer herself had to leave everything she'd come to love. It would be a noble sacrifice. She had to believe that.

“Are you here for me?”

“No. Though you'll do for now.”

Summer wouldn't show her mother the ice that skittered through her limbs. Mom would eat all of that up—Summer's nerves, her fear—and use it against her, so Summer stayed as ambivalent as her poor acting skills allowed. “What does that mean?”

“Your man has quite the cattle operation. Do you know how much it's worth?”

She could deny having a man. She could deny Thack's existence, but that would only give Mom more ammunition. “No.”

“Hmm. Well, we can work on that. I've done research though, since you left, since Richard—the son of a bitch—left.” The anger that flashed out was smoothed away almost immediately. “Your older sister has done
quite
well for herself. I think the Sharpes have millions.”

“You will stay away from Mel.”

Mom pressed a hand to her heart. “You wound me, Daughter. I've found out I have a granddaughter. I need to meet her.”

It took everything Summer had ever learned growing up under her mother's thumb to keep from exploding in outrage. It took every ounce of control, every unit of brainpower to keep from yelling, threatening.

Mom would not touch Lissa. Not on Summer's own life.

“What will it take to get you away from here?” She could try to outmanipulate Mom, but she knew better. Her best bet was to be as straightforward as possible. She would do everything she could to get her mother away, and then she could worry about how to find a way back.

“I want my family.”

“You want your family's money.”

Mom shrugged. “I've become accustomed to a certain kind of lifestyle. The kind of lifestyle my darling son-in-law could offer me.” Mom looked her up and down. “Possibly your man too.”

Mom was digging around, trying to find a sore spot. She was succeeding, but Summer thought she was doing a reasonable job of not showing it completely.

“I imagine you'll have better luck with a former professional athlete,” Summer forced herself to say. “I'll even help you.”

“Oh, they didn't welcome you with open arms?”

Summer swallowed the need to defend them, the need to tell her mother just what the Shaws had done for her. She had to fight Mom with Mom's own tactics, and maybe even apply a little bit of the truth against Mom's lies. “Funny, they didn't even know I existed.”

“Is that what they said?”

She would not let Mom make her doubt them. She had seen Caleb's face, and Mel's. They hadn't known. Her father might have, but her brother and sister hadn't. Mom would not force her way in and make a rift there.

“If we do this my way, I can get Dan to give you the money you need. But you have to do what I say.”

Mom's mouth slowly curved. “Aren't you Ms. Calls the Shots these days. Maybe I taught you something after all.”

Summer's stomach roiled, but she did her best to look disinterested. Dan would do anything to keep Mel and Lissa safe, anything to keep them from this hurt. There were so many ways Mom could hurt people. “They won't give it to you if I don't help you.”

“Why would you help me? You ran away from me. You ran from the life you could have given both of us. The life you were supposed to give me.” Mom rose from her seat on the bench, and Summer felt like a little girl again, shrinking away from that gleam in her mother's eye.

She hadn't always been afraid of her mother, but there had been times—when things were bad, when they were running out of money or men, when Mom had looked at her like that or loaded that ever-present handgun—that Summer had known true fear.

“You were supposed to be the key,” Mom said, her eyes narrowing. Because nothing could ever be Mom's own fault.

Summer raised her chin, trying to meet Mom's gaze without letting the shudders rack her body. “I still can be, if you let me lead this one.” Lead Mom far away, hopefully with a little help from Dan.

“Well, you do surprise me, Summer. Pleasantly this time. I'm interested to see what you can do. I'd come to believe I hadn't instilled anything of importance in you, but this gives me hope.”

Mom gracefully sat back down on the bench. “You have twenty-four hours to show me some results.” Mom tapped a long, French-manicured nail on the table. “Don't disappoint me, Summer. You know how I get when I'm disappointed.”

Summer swallowed. Yes, she knew. Locked in her room, without dinner. Forced to endure more of whatever she'd failed at. Public recitations of her many failings. Having to hear the things Mom had to do with men because Summer had failed.

You failed me, Summer. Why can't you do anything right? You're supposed to help us. You failed.

Only Summer wasn't a child anymore. Mom couldn't send her to her room or force her to do anything. She couldn't use that guilt against her because Summer had finally seen it for what it really was.

Manipulation. And more, the fact Summer wasn't a
daughter
to Mom. Or even a person. Summer had only been a
ticket
. A
thing
to use to get what her mother wanted.

Summer was so much more here—more than an object to be used—so she wouldn't allow Mom to do that to the people she loved. There would be no threats, no manipulations. Summer would save them from that.

“I do wonder about this granddaughter of mine,” Mom said conversationally. “From what I could scrounge up online about the wedding, my older daughter looks as much like me as you do.” She fussed with her hair. “Or did, when I was a brunette. What's the little girl like? Her father's quite the—”

“She's a baby,” Summer snapped, disgusted that she could see where Mom's mind was going. “You won't touch her.” She realized her mistake too late.

Mom had found her vulnerable spot.

“Then make sure you get me what I want, what I need, and what I deserve, because if you don't…” She let it trail off, patting the purse strapped across her shoulder.

For years, Summer had thought she could change her mother, thought something horrible had happened to Mom to make her this way, so calculating, so cold, so conscienceless. Summer had tried to unravel the reasoning and find the motivation.

But it remained locked away, held somewhere deep under her mother's pathological need to take from people. Summer's love had never been enough to change that, and she'd given up trying. To save herself, she'd given up being the
ticket
. She'd just wanted to be Summer.

She'd felt guilty about that for a long time, but with her mother threatening Lissa, threatening the Shaws' happiness, Summer didn't give much of a damn about what had brought her mother to this point.

She only knew she had to stop her.

“If you promise to stay put, I can have this whole thing set in motion by tomorrow.” Summer hoped. She hoped with all of her might.

“That eager to be rid of me?”

“You don't want to be here.” She wouldn't allow her mother to ruin Christmas for everyone.

Mom gave a little shrug as though she didn't care, but Summer knew a few of Mom's quirks that could work in her favor. Her distaste for closed-in spaces like the caravan was one of them. The bitter hatred she had for the state she'd been born in was another.

As far as Mom was concerned, Montana had cursed her, and her life had begun once she'd left. She'd once broken up with a gravy-train kind of man simply because he had property in Montana.

Her being here reeked of desperation, and Summer would use that. “If you want this to work, you have to stay here. No one can know you're in town.”

“Or I could tell them I'm here and ready to be one big, happy family,” Mom said, studying her nails. “Just in time for Christmas. A miracle, really.”

“And stay in Montana until they believe it?”

Mom's hand dropped and her chin came up. “All right. Twenty-four hours, Summer. Then I start going after what I want myself, and you know it'll get messy.”

Yes, Summer had no doubt about that, but she could do a lot in twenty-four hours—including saying good-bye.

* * *

Thack couldn't sleep after Al left, saying they hadn't found any evidence of a broken-down car or a woman creeping around his property. Thack had checked on Kate at least once every ten minutes and then given up. He was going to be up all night.

Now, if only Summer would text him. He glanced at his phone for the umpteenth time. He wasn't really sure what time she got done at the bar, or how long it would take her to be picked up and driven to the Sharpes' or the Shaws'.

Why hadn't she wanted to come here?

He plopped onto the couch, frustrated with himself, with Summer, with the whole damn world for being so infuriatingly hard to predict and control.

When a knock sounded at the door, he didn't even jump. He wasn't sure anything tonight could shock him. Still, he took the rifle he'd gotten out of his gun safe after he'd called the police and placed it out of sight but within easy reach of the actual door frame.