Texas Brides: The Rancher and the Runaway Bride & The Bluest Eyes in Texas: The Rancher & The Runaway Bride. Joan JohnstonЧитать онлайн книгу.
feel it, too?”
“I think he might still love her.”
“I’m sure he does.”
“Then why did you bring Velma here tonight?”
“I would think that’s obvious.”
“Not to me.”
“I enjoy her company.”
“Oh.”
He grinned. “And I knew Buck would be here with you.”
He sent her into a series of spins that prevented her from making any kind of retort. By the time she was in his arms again the song was over and he was ushering her back toward their table, where Buck and Velma were sitting across from each other arguing vociferously.
“Buck?” Tate didn’t want to interrupt, but she wasn’t sure whether she should leave him alone with Velma, either.
“Let’s get out of here,” Buck said, jumping up and turning his back on Velma. “Good night, Adam. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
As Buck hurried Tate away, she heard Velma say, “I’d like to go home now, Adam. If that’s all right with you?”
Tate wasn’t sure where Buck was taking her when he burned rubber on the asphalt parking lot. It was a safe guess from the dark look on his face that he had no romantic intentions toward her.
“Want to talk about it?” she asked at last.
Buck glanced quickly at her, then turned his eyes back to the road. “I don’t want to bother you with my problems.”
“I’m a good listener.”
He sighed and said, “Velma and I were high school sweethearts. We married as soon as we graduated. Pretty soon Velma began to think she had missed something. She had an affair.”
Tate bit her lip to keep from saying something judgmental. She was glad she had when Buck continued.
“I found out about it and confronted her. She asked for a divorce, and I gave it to her.”
“Why?”
“Pride. Foolish damn pride!”
“And you regret it now?”
“My life’s been running kind of muddy without her.”
“So why don’t you do something about it?” Tate asked.
“It’s no use. She says that I deserve better. She doesn’t believe I can ever forgive or forget what she did.”
“Can you?”
The cowboy’s eyes were bleak in the light from the dash. “I think so.”
“But you’re not sure?”
A muscle worked in his jaw. “If I were, I’d have her back home and under me faster than chain lightning with a link snapped!”
Tate had thought they were driving without direction, yet she realized suddenly that they had arrived back at the front door of Adam’s house. She saw Adam’s truck parked there. So, he was home. And there was a light on in the living room.
She let herself out of the truck, but Buck met her on the front porch. He put an arm around her waist and walked her away from the light.
“May I kiss you good-night, Tate?”
Tate drew a breath and held it. This was so exactly like the scene she had played out the night she had left home that it was eerie. Only there were no brothers here to protect her from the big, bad wolf.
“Of course you can kiss me good-night,” she said at last.
Buck took his time, and Tate was aware of the sweetness of his kiss. And the reluctance in it. When he lifted his head their eyes met, and they smiled at each other.
“No go, huh?” he said.
Tate shook her head. “I like you an awful lot, Buck. I hope we can be friends.”
“I’d like that,” the cowboy said.
He leaned down and kissed her again. Both of them knew how much—and how little—it meant.
However, it was not so clear to the man watching them through a slit in the living room curtains.
Chapter 5
IT HAD TAKEN EVERY OUNCE of willpower Adam possessed to keep from stalking out onto the front porch and putting his fist in Buck Magnesson’s nose. It wasn’t just the thought of his sister Melanie that kept him from doing it. There were things he couldn’t offer Tate that Buck could.
But he wasn’t a saint or a eunuch. If Tate persisted in tempting him, he wasn’t noble enough to refuse her. He was determined to keep his hunger leashed at least until he was certain Tate knew what she wouldn’t be getting if she got involved with him. She was too young to give up her dreams. And there was no way he could fulfill them.
Before Adam had time to examine his feelings further, the front door opened. Tate stepped inside to find him sitting in one of the large Mediterranean chairs before the blackened fireplace, nursing a half-empty glass of whiskey.
“Hello,” she said. “I didn’t expect to see you again tonight.”
“I was waiting up for you.”
Tate immediately bristled. “Look, I don’t need a caretaker.” She wanted a lover. But not just that. A man who loved her, as she was beginning to fear she loved him.
“Old habits die hard.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I used to wait up for my sister Melanie.”
“You have a sister? Why haven’t I met her?”
“She died ten years ago.”
“I’m so sorry.”
Adam had drunk just enough whiskey to want to tell her the rest of it. “Melanie ran away from home when she was seventeen. She was picked up by a stranger while hitchhiking. He raped her, and then he stabbed her to death.”
“That must have been awful for you!” Tate wanted to put her arms around Adam to comfort him, but his body language posted obvious No Trespassing signs.
She used sitting on the couch as an excuse to cross closer to him, slipped off her boots and pulled her feet up under her. She folded her arms under her breasts to give herself the comfort he wouldn’t accept.
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