Cowboy to the Rescue. Stella BagwellЧитать онлайн книгу.
with him.”
Despite her calm demeanor, Christina could see that the woman was upset by her son’s reluctant attitude.
Rising from her chair, Christina moved close enough to lay a reassuring hand on the matriarch’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, Geraldine. I’m sure your son is a reasonable person. He’ll eventually understand that you and your whole family deserve to know the real truth of Paul’s situation at the time of his death.”
Smiling wanly, Geraldine nodded. “I’d better go have a talk with him. I want him to be sociable when he comes to the supper table. You might not believe it, but Lex is actually a very charming guy.”
Oh, I believe it all right, Christina thought dryly. But he was clearly a strong-minded guy, too, and she wondered what it was going to take for Geraldine to draw him around to her way of thinking.
Patting Geraldine’s shoulder, she said, “If you don’t mind, I wish you’d let me talk to him. I think I know what he needs to hear, and it might be easier coming from an outsider instead of a relative.”
With a grateful smile, Geraldine gestured toward the front door of the house, and Christina took off with a hurried stride. She wanted to find Mr. Cowboy before he had a chance to etch his mindset in stone.
Inside the house, Christina headed straight to the kitchen, and even before she pushed through the swinging doors, she could hear his voice echoing off the low-beamed ceiling.
“—she’s doing! It’s a hell of a thing to see the mother I’ve always admired so wrapped up in a man that she can’t see how she’s upsetting the rest of the family! I—”
Not wanting to be an eavesdropper, Christina took a deep breath and pushed on into the room. Lex immediately heard the sound of her footsteps and whirled away from the tall, black-haired woman working at a huge gas range.
Surprised, he stepped toward her. “Are you looking for something?” he asked.
Giving him her best smile, Christina walked over to him. “Yes, I’m looking for you.”
For one brief moment a sheepish look crossed his face, telling Christina that in spite of his quick exit from the porch, the man apparently possessed enough innate manners to be embarrassed at the way he’d behaved.
“I’m sorry I left the porch so abruptly, Christina, but I’m—not in the mood to discuss this thing about Dad right now.”
Still smiling, she shrugged. “I think we should. Otherwise, none of us will enjoy our meal.” She glanced over his shoulder at the woman standing at the range. Before she’d arrived at the Sandbur, Geraldine had told her a bit about Hattie, known to most everyone as simply Cook, including the fact that she was seventy-two and had worked on the ranch for nearly fifty years. Clearly, she was a part of the family, too, so Christina didn’t see any reason not to speak freely in front of her. “And from the smell of this room, I can’t wait to sample Cook’s dishes.”
Picking up on Christina’s comment, Cook said, “This young lady has some common sense, Lex. Not like those tarts you associate yourself with. You’d better listen to this one.”
Tossing Cook an annoyed glare, Lex reached for Christina’s arm. “All right. Come along and we’ll step out back.”
On the opposite wall of the kitchen, they passed through a paned glass door and onto a large patio covered with an arbor of honeysuckle vines. The scent from the blossoms was heavenly, but Christina could hardly pause to enjoy it. After several long steps, Lex turned to face her.
“Okay, say what you feel you need to, and let’s get this over with.”
Refusing to allow his bluntness to get to her, she put on her most composed face.
“First of all, I’ve known your mother for only three weeks. But after the first conversation I had with her, it was obvious to me that she loved her late husband very much—that they had a very special relationship. If it took me only a few minutes to recognize that, I wonder why you can’t see it after—” Her brows arched inquisitively. “What? Thirty-five years?”
“Good guess. But my age has nothing to do with this.” Glancing away from her, he paused, then spoke again. “Listen, I’m not doubting my mother’s love for my father. But now—well, I’m having a hell of a problem with these motives of hers. Especially the part about Wolfe Maddson.” He planted a stare directly on her face. “The cause of my father’s death should have nothing to do with their relationship, and I resent that she thinks it does.”
The man wasn’t annoyed, she realized; he was hurting. He believed his mother was betraying him and his father’s memory. And Christina wasn’t altogether sure that he was wrong. If she were in his shoes, she couldn’t say she would be behaving any differently. But her job was not to judge, but to follow the wishes of her client.
“Look,” she tried to reason, “it’s important to your mother to have the truth—whatever that truth might be.”
He moved closer and the scent of the masculine cologne clinging to his clothes mingled with the honeysuckle above their heads. She wondered if it was scientifically possible for scents to make a person drunk. What else could be making her feel so light-headed?
“Sure,” he said wearily. “It’s easy for you to stand there and make a pitch for Mom’s plans. It’s just business to you—you have no idea what it’s like to lose someone as we did.”
Christina kept reminding herself to keep this man’s words impersonal. He couldn’t possibly know that his comments were evoking tragic memories, whirling her back twelve long years ago, when she’d sat staring out a dark window, wondering why her little brother had not yet arrived home. At that time he’d been eighteen, and she’d wanted to believe he was at a party and enjoying it too much to leave his friends.
“So the truth of the matter isn’t important to you?” she asked in an oddly hoarse voice.
She could feel his eyes traveling over her face.
“If you’re going to give me the old truth-will-set-me-free speech, then please don’t waste your time,” he said, with faint sarcasm. “I know what the truth is.”
“Well, I don’t,” she muttered, then turned on shaky legs and headed back toward the house.
Behind her, Lex stared at her retreating figure. Seeing her so upset had brought him up short. He’d never meant to hurt her and he desperately needed to make her understand that. Quickly he caught up to her as she was about to enter the house and gently placed a hand on her shoulder.
“Christina, what’s the matter? You’re the one who wanted to talk this out.”
Her face was suddenly a picture of amazement, and Lex found himself mesmerized by the rich copper color of her hair, the dark blaze in her eyes and the moist purse of her lips.
“Talk, not yell,” she shot back at him. “I’m your mother’s guest, not your whipping boy.”
Boy? With her cheeks flushed and her eyes blazing like that, there wasn’t one tiny particle about her that was remotely boyish. In fact, he’d never seen so much sensuality bundled up in one female. And he’d never felt himself reacting so strongly. Then the meaning of her words sank in, and Lex found himself feeling faintly ashamed of his behavior. Maybe he had been out of line.
“If that’s what you think I was doing, then I apologize. I was just trying to make you see that digging up the past seems fruitless to me. And even a little unhealthy. Dad is dead. Nothing will change that.”
Without warning, she suddenly stepped closer. So close that he could smell her musky rose perfume, count the freckles on her upturned nose.
Her blue eyes challenged his. “You’re probably thinking that I don’t understand what you’re feeling. But believe me, Lex, I do. Twelve years ago, my little brother disappeared without a trace. And since that time, every day I wish for the truth and someone—anyone—to