One Mother Wanted. Jeanne AllanЧитать онлайн книгу.
Instead he brushed her cheek with the back of his hand. “I won’t kiss you again until you want to kiss me.” The words he’d meant as compliance with her wishes echoed arrogantly.
Quick anger flashed in her eyes before they narrowed with cunning. “It’s a deal. We won’t kiss again until I want to kiss you.” Taking his silence for agreement, Allie reached for the car door handle.
“Who’s here, Daddy?”
Hannah’s voice came from the direction of the house. Zane didn’t take his eyes off Allie. “Allie Lassiter. The lady you met at the wedding.”
“I wanna see Allie.”
“I have to leave.”
Zane held on to the door. “You can stay long enough to say hello to Hannah.”
“I’m not interested in saying hello to your daughter.”
Her cold, brittle voice cut like ground glass in his gut. He’d done this to her. Nothing he could do or say would ever change that fact. Or reach the depths of his regret. She’d agreed to help the filly. She would come to his ranch. He could see her. Talk to her. That would have to be enough.
Hannah skipped to his side. “Hi, Allie. How come you’re here?”
“To see the paint,” Allie answered curtly.
Zane smiled down at his ragamuffin of a daughter. She looked as bad as Allie in her dirty jeans and shirt. She’d lost another button. He’d be glad when she learned to do her own mending. Little needles and his big hands didn’t go together.
“Isn’t she beautiful? Daddy said she has to go to school. He said you’re a teacher.”
“I used to be. I don’t teach anymore.”
Red curls bobbed as Hannah nodded her head vigorously and pointed to the filly. “Daddy said you’re gonna teach her. He promised.”
Hannah had a habit of taking every word he said as a kind of pronouncement from on high. Zane smiled wryly at Allie.
She glared back. “Your father’s good at making promises. He’s not very good at keeping them.” Jamming her key into the ignition, Allie added in a tight voice, “I won’t be back.”
He couldn’t believe it. Damn it, she’d been a teacher. She ought to know how kids interpreted things. She did know. Hannah’s remarks had given her the excuse she wanted
Zane wanted to throw back his head and howl in despair. Frustration and pain boiled up from deep inside him. Slamming her car door shut, Zane braced his hands on the rolled-down window and stuck his face close to hers.
“Does this make you feel better, Alberta? I betrayed you so you’re refusing to help a blameless filly and rejecting a little girl who’s reaching out to you for friendship. Do you think sinking to my level will make you feel better? I’ve got news for you, honey. Life down here in the slime pits is dark and dirty and rank. and you’ll hate yourself from the moment you wake up in the morning until you work yourself into an exhausted sleep at night. And every time you look in a mirror, you’ll loathe the person looking back at you.”
“My, don’t we feel sorry for ourselves? Why don’t you have a beer and forget your troubles? It worked for you before.”
Her words slashed painfully deep. Zane dropped his hands and stepped back. Allie’s car roared into life and tore out of the ranch yard. The dust swirling around his boots smothered the false crumbs of hope he’d secretly nourished.
A car honked behind her. Allie checked her rearview mirror as an unfamiliar car flashed around her. Her eyes darted back to the mirror and her own image. She looked no different. The same blue eyes, shaggy blond hair, chopped-off chin, ordinary nose. Only the mouth seemed different. As if it didn’t belong to her. Because she didn’t want to lay claim to a mouth that could say such horrible, hurtful words. The ugly taunt replayed itself endlessly in her mind.
Hateful words. Said in a reasonable, quiet tone of voice, which made them all the more hateful. “Proud of yourself, Alberta Lassiter?” she mocked her twin in the mirror. Worse was the shameful knowledge Zane had been right. She’d refused to help the filly because she didn’t have the power to hurt Zane the way he’d hurt her.
Allie pulled over to the side of the road and parked. She’d always thought of herself as a good person. Condemning others for callous and uncaring behavior, she’d set herself up as a paragon of goodness and mercy. Prided herself on her compassion.
Closing her eyes, she leaned back against the headrest. She was a fraud, her behavior a total sham, her heart as black as three of the filly’s legs.
She wanted to blame Zane Peters for pulling her down. “The slime pits,” he’d said. “Dark and dirty and rank.” He’d put himself there.
He couldn’t put her there. Only she could.
Starting the engine, Allie retraced her route.
The paint filly had joined a small herd in a nearby pasture. Zane stood by the corral watching the horses. His daughter sat on the top rail, leaning back against her father’s chest. Allie forced her legs to carry her across the yard.
Zane didn’t turn as Allie leaned on the corral beside him.
The child peeked around her father, then curled tighter into Zane. Her thumb sought her mouth.
“I apologize for what I said.” For all Zane’s response, Allie could have spoken a foreign language. “And I’m sorry I said it in front of your daughter.”
Moments passed before Zane spoke. “I haven’t had a drop of any kind of alcohol since that night.”
“That’s good.” Allie drew on a rail with her finger. She knew he meant the night he’d impregnated Kim Taylor.
The sun took its warmth below the mountain peaks. Zane straightened, and lifting his daughter from the railing, settled her on his shoulders. “Thanks for coming back. I know how difficult it was for you to apologize, and I appreciate it.” He turned toward the house.
Allie rubbed her palms along the seams of her jeans. He wasn’t making this easy for her. “You don’t need to put the filly in the round pen tomorrow. I’ll bring her in.”
Zane didn’t slow his pace. “All right.”
“All right? That’s all you have to say?” she shouted after him.
He stopped. “What did you expect me to say?” he asked without turning.
“You could act a little surprised that I’m coming.”
“I’m not surprised. I knew you’d come tomorrow.”
She couldn’t let it go. “I suppose you knew I’d come back tonight, too.”
At that he turned. “Alberta, sometimes I think I know you better than I know myself.”
“You don’t know me at all. If you did, you’d know I hate to be called Alberta.”
“I know you hate it.” Sliding one hand up and down his daughter’s denim-clad leg, Zane gave Allie a slow smile. “And, yes, Alberta, I knew you’d be back.”
He took his daughter into the house leaving Allie standing there. She hated him. Hated his teasing, his smile, his little girl who wasn’t hers. Hated his wide shoulders and lean hips. Hated that a mere flexing of facial muscles could jolt a person’s stomach and speed up her heart.
Once that slow smile would have sent Allie rushing into Zane’s open arms. Older and wiser, she knew the difference between love and shallow physical attraction. Besides, Zane no longer had open arms. His daughter filled his arms.
Her face had told Zane how close he’d come to ruining everything. His only excuse was giddy, overwhelming relief.