MADE IN TEXAS Read online

  His eyebrows rose. "After a few dances and half an hour in a motel room? I don't think so."

  "Four dances and twenty minutes," she countered, "including my sprint across the parking lot."

  Cal smiled, a fleeting smile that lightened his face for one brief minute as he slid the box spring along the floor. "At least I know your name now. You left without telling me."

  "I didn't know yours, either."

  "Stupid of me." Somehow he managed to make lifting the mattress look easy as he placed it on the frame. He was a large, muscular man. She remembered the strength in his arms when he'd carried her to the motel. She must have been insane to drink that much. The thought of all that rum made her stomach heave.

  "What else do you want to know?" Damn, but it was hot in this room. "There really isn't much else to say."

  "How about why you ran away?" He walked closer to her, but stopped a few feet away, as if he was afraid she would run away again if he came too close.

  She swallowed. Hard. "I was embarrassed. I don't expect you to believe me, but I, uh, had never done anything like that before. I was absolutely mortified."

  "Mortified," he repeated, his dark eyes fixed on hers. "That's not very flattering."

  "Well, you'll have to get compliments from the next woman you meet at Billy's. I'm sticking with 'mortified."'

  Again, that smile. "Well, no one's ever called it that before."

  "It" meant sex, she supposed. Hot, panting, baby-making sex. Her stomach fluttered with nerves and more than a little guilt, but she kept quiet and hoped that the heat wasn't making her sick. Cal turned around and went back for the other box spring. He didn't say anything else until he had that one in place.

  "You didn't tell me about your husband," he said, wiping his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt. "When you were here at the ranch that first day, you could have told me."

  "I don't like talking about Jack's death."

  "I'm sorry. I wouldn't have asked about him that day if I'd known." He watched her, waiting for her to say something.

  "That's okay. It was three years ago." Three years and two months.

  "That's not necessarily a long time."

  "No," she said. "It's not."

  "I'm sorry."

  "Thank you." They looked at each other for a long moment before he stepped away.

  "I think you're going to have to help me with this one," he said, moving toward the huge mattress.

  "Let me get Kate." Heavy lifting and pregnancy didn't go together, and as long as she'd been given this baby she was going to do her best to keep it safe. "I have a bad back."

  "Wait a sec. I'll see how far I get," Cal said, sliding it across the room. "Maybe I can manage by myself." His reluctance to take advantage of an excuse to be with Kate again pleased her. If he were immune to her friend's charms, he would set a record as the first man in Texas able to resist.

  "Just a minute," she said, hurrying over to the shopping bag filled with new bedding. "I have to put the dust ruffle on first." She opened the package to reveal the almost transparent white nylon flocked with tiny pale green leaves. She gave it a good shake and told herself that the wrinkles would fall out eventually, because she wasn't going to stop and iron all that fabric.

  To her surprise, he leaned the mattress against the wall and helped her spread the nylon square across the box springs as if he knew exactly what he was doing. When it was in place, Cal grasped the mattress again.

  "Don't hurt yourself." A silly thing to say, of course, considering the size of him. She watched him manage to toss part of the mattress on top of the bed and push it into place. It didn't look easy and she heard him swear under his breath, but when she tried to help by grabbing one of the cloth handles on the side of the mattress, he told her not to.

  "I'll take care of that," he said, his voice gruff. "But this is one hell of a big bed."

  She flushed and stammered, "The boys sometimes get in bed with me in the morning."

  "You don't have to explain," he said. "Your bed's your own business." Addie stayed silent while he pushed the mattress into place. It took several attempts, but Cal had it fixed in no time.

  "Thank you. That's great." Now he could leave and she, ungrateful liar that she was, could admire her bed without thinking of sex.

  "No problem," he said, looking up at her. "You have sheets for this?"

  "Well, yes." They were still in their packages in the shopping bag in the far corner of the room, along with new pillows, a mint-green cotton blanket and a snow-white matelesse coverlet.

  "Well, let's get 'em on, then. Might as well finish what we started."

  He surprised her again, shaking the crisp, white sheets from their packages and spreading them neatly, tucking and folding with practiced motions.

  "You're very good at this." He'd been married, of course, despite what he'd told her the night they met. He was older than she was—thirty-six, thirty-seven, she guessed—and he wouldn't have reached that age without having been someone's husband or live-in boyfriend, a man who'd grown accustomed to making beds. Who she was and what had happened was none of her business, Addie told herself.

  "I did a lot of it when I was a kid."

  "You did?" So much for the ex-wife.

  "Yeah." He smoothed the blanket and folded the top edge neatly over the sheet. Addie did the same thing on the right side of the bed. "I spent most of my life in group homes. We made up our own beds every Sunday, and the older kids always helped the younger ones."

  "And you were one of the older ones?"

  "Younger, older, in between." He shrugged and reached for the puffy plastic bag with the coverlet zipped inside. "This goes on top?"

  "Yes." She was afraid to ask anything about his family, afraid to embarrass him or make him feel badly. And she didn't know if it would be rude to say nothing. She gazed at him across the width of the bed. "But where was your family?"

  "There wasn't any." He gave her a quick smile, as if to reassure her that she shouldn't pity him, but the smile wasn't the same one that lit up his eyes when he was amused. She knew that much about him, at least. "Pillows?"

  "Oh. Sure." She grabbed another shopping bag, this one stuffed with thick, down pillows, another splurge for all of the new beds in the house. She had spent one entire morning, while the boys were at preschool, in the bed and bath shop. She'd discovered that oyster crackers were more portable and less messy than the other kind, and were easily nibbled on while spending great quantities of money

  Which brought her back to the reason for the crackers in the first place, the man standing across the bed. The man who had used a condom. Had the damn thing broken?

  "Addie?"

  "Oh." She'd been staring at him. He walked around the bed and took the bag of pillows from her. "Sorry."

  "Are you okay? You look a little pale."

  "I'm fine. Just a little warm, that's all." Just a little pregnant, too. What would happen if she told him? No, she wasn't going to involve him. Not yet. Not until she knew what kind of man he was.

  He looked up to the ceiling, where an ancient overhead fan hovered. "I wonder if that thing works."

  "I don't know."

  "Only one way to find out." He stepped around her and managed to reach the broken cord. In a matter of seconds, the wooden blades began to move, lifting the warm air toward the ceiling. "Better?"

  "Yes, thank you."

  "I'll tie a longer cord on it for you." But he wasn't looking at the fan when he spoke. His gaze was on her face. "I'll, uh, do that right away."

  "Thank you," she managed. "Again."

  "Again," Cal murmured, now looking at her mouth. He still held the bag of pillows, looking for all the world like a satisfied cowboy shopper, but his free hand reached out and touched her face. Addie didn't move, didn't dare breathe. She didn't want him to touch her, and yet she yearned for nothing more than to step into his arms. A kiss would be hell and heaven and a complete disaster, but she foolishly wanted nothing else
. He had a beautiful mouth, and she knew what it felt like against her lips, against her skin, against her body.

  His fingers swept slowly across her cheek, to her jaw, then moved to the side of her neck. She shivered and, looking as unsettled as she was certain she did, he dropped his hand.

  "I should be—what was it? Oh, yeah. Mortified," he declared, but his mouth curved into a smile as he looked into her eyes. "But I wish I could carry you over to that bed and make love to you again. Longer this time," he said. "And more than once."

  Addie took a deep breath and held his gaze with her own. "That's not going to happen."

  "No," he said. "You're right. Things have changed, haven't they?" He didn't wait for an answer, simply tossed the bag of pillows onto the mattress and moved toward the bedroom door as if he wanted to get away from her as soon as he could. "The house looks good all cleaned up. Your father lived in a couple of rooms downstairs. I've never been up here before."

  "Really?" She supposed it was only polite to give him a tour, and she was grateful to change the subject from making love to the condition of her new home.

  "Too bad Ed never made the most of this place." He put his hands in his jeans pockets and looked around. "How many rooms are up here?"

  "Well, this is mine, of course." She waved toward the curved windows at one end of the large rectangular space. "I couldn't resist that rounded wall. And there are three more bedrooms and two bathrooms on the other side of the hall, but those will be guest rooms."

  "You must be expecting a lot of company."

  "Maybe." If she ever needed the extra money, she could turn the house into a bed-and-breakfast.

  "What about the boys?"

  "Follow me." She led him to the other end of the room and through a door to a large bathroom, a room she intended to remodel as soon as possible. Some of the black-and-white tiles were cracked, and the old linoleum floor was peeling in places, but the wide claw-foot tub and elegant pedestal sink more than made up for the room's problems. "The master bathroom, obviously."

  "Pretty fancy bathroom for an old ranch house. Makes you wonder who the original owners were."

  "I wondered the same thing," she said. "Cattle barons, maybe?"

  "You could look it up at the courthouse, I'll bet."

  "Look at this." She led him into an enormous room that had intrigued her on the first visit. Empty except for the new twin beds, and boxes of the boys' clothing and toys, its tall windows let in lots of light and made the room a welcoming place for kids to play.

  He whistled. "I never knew this room was up here."

  "It's going to be the boys' playroom, but they'll sleep in here for now, until I get their bedrooms painted and fixed. I've ordered a rug, and once some shelves are installed, it should be perfect for them." At the end of the room, in the corner, was the back staircase. "We're right above the kitchen, so I'll be able to keep an eye on them."

  "Yeah," he said. "I can see how that would be important."

  Addie moved toward the staircase. "I'm going to fix some iced tea. Do you want some?"

  "No, thanks. I'll go put the beds together in the other rooms."

  "Okay." She didn't offer to help him, because she knew he'd refuse, and because she didn't want to be alone with him in other bedrooms and across other mattresses. He had wanted to kiss her, and she would have let him. And he would have known right away the power he had to make her knees weak and her heart pound against her chest. She was a silly, lonely, pregnant widow who should know better than to kiss the hired help.

  And he was the kind of man who should know better than to try.

  * * *

  "My Adelaide is a cook," Paula Johanson declared proudly. "I don't know where she got it from, because it certainly wasn't from me."

  Cal watched the woman brush aside John's offers of help. She placed a large pan of steaming lasagna at the head of the table, where he assumed Addie would take her place once she finished putting food out. She'd insisted that everyone eat supper together tonight, but Cal would rather have bought a burger in town. He'd almost kissed her this afternoon. He'd stood in her bedroom, at the foot of that wide bed, and he'd touched her.

  He didn't want to eat lasagna. He wanted a cold shower, a colder beer and a long, frigid drive in his air-conditioned truck.

  "Well," John drawled, "if that lasagna tastes as good as it smells, you won't get no argument from me."

  "No ar-gu-ment from me," one of the little boys repeated, grinning across the table at Cal. The boy seated next to Cal, the quieter one he thought was Matt, burst into giggles and covered his mouth with his hand.

  "That'll be the day," his grandmother said. "You're full of arguments, Ian. And it's not polite to repeat people's words when they're speaking."

  "Sorry," the boy mumbled, but he grinned at John as if the old man was his coconspirator.

  "That's okay," John said, chuckling. The old man was in his glory with those kids around. Cal had never seen him so happy, not in years. Not even when Ed bought that Appaloosa mare and she'd given birth to one of the best-looking colts in the county.

  "Thanks, everyone, for all of the help today," Addie said, sitting down at the head of the old farm table. John was on her left, Mrs. Johanson on her right. The twins sat opposite each other and, across from Cal, Kate lifted her wineglass.

  "Here's to your new home, Addie," she said. "May you live here happily ever after."

  "Thank you." She raised her glass and took a sip of water. Addie wasn't much of a drinker, he noted. Maybe Valentine's Day had put her off rum and Cokes for a while. Addie set her glass down and picked up a wide spatula. "I'm serving because it's too hot to pass around. John? Would you give me your plate? Help yourselves to salad and garlic bread."

  Kate passed Cal the basket filled with hot bread. "When did you have the time to cook, Addie?"

  "Yesterday And then I packed the last of the kitchen stuff."

  "Amazing," her friend said. "You're a true domestic goddess. You could make a fortune with your own restaurant, you know. With this table and your cooking—and these guys as waiters." She ruffled Ian's hair. "What a crew, huh?"

  "I'd thought about a bed-and-breakfast," Addie said. "I've always wondered what it would be like. Maybe just on weekends, after the house is finished and the boys are in school. Cal? Would you give me your plate?"

  "Sure, thanks." He looked at her as he leaned forward and gave his dinner plate to John to hold while Addie dished out a large chunk of lasagna. She was flushed, a little self-conscious and a whole lot pretty. And far away from the woman who had danced with him and laughed with him and reached for his shirt buttons two months ago.

  "This is a wonderful table," her mother said. "You're going to keep it, aren't you, dear?"

  "Yes."

  Cal remained silent, except to thank John for the return of his plate piled with the best-smelling Italian food he'd ever had. He wasn't used to family dinners, though he'd always liked the old farm table. He figured it had served thousands of ranch hands over the many years it had sat in the middle of the room. The mismatched wooden chairs were a bit rickety, and he could understand if a woman didn't want to keep them. But the table? It had to be twenty feet long and four feet wide, and its battered surface gave it character. Like the old man sitting two chairs away, talking about the amount of stuff boxed and stacked in the storage rooms north of the kitchen.

  "Your father never threw nothin' away." Sadness crossed the old man's face, and then he looked over at Addie and brightened. "He'd be real tickled that you were here taking care of everything."

  "He should have looked me up in Austin," she said. "I would have been easy to find."

  "Well, he wasn't a social man," John said. "More like a hermit, though maybe not that bad. The only time he'd leave here was when we'd go to a stock auction. And even then he wouldn't stay long, just do what business he came to do and then we'd leave. 'Cept that last time, of course. He wanted to buy them horses and just didn't live long enough
to load them in the trailer."

  "Them horses?" Ian asked. "How many horses?"

  "It's a nice herd of eight mares," the old man answered, just as if the child knew what he was talking about. "Real nice mares. Six bays, a chestnut and a darn pretty paint pony that will make you a real good horse, there, boys, when you learn how to ride."

  "Ride?" Matthew dropped his garlic bread. "Ride horses? Can we, Mom?"

  "Maybe." Addie lifted the spatula. "Who would like more lasagna?"

  "I want a horse," Ian said.

  "Me, too," his brother added.

  "You've got horses," said John. "'Course they're not good for learnin', no, not good for that." He leaned forward and looked down the table to Cal. "You'd better get these lads some ponies, Cal."

  "That's up to their mother," he said, finishing the best lasagna he'd ever tasted. He helped himself to more Caesar salad and another slice of bread.

  "Is there such a thing as safe ponies, Cal?" Addie's look said "tell me my boys won't get hurt" but Cal couldn't promise any such thing, of course.

  "I can find some real mild ponies, sure. If the boys are going to grow up here on the Triple J, they should know how to ride."

  Matt leaned over and gave him a big hug. "Thanks, Mr. Cal."

  "You're welcome." Cal gave the boy an awkward pat and wondered what the hell he'd just promised.

  * * *

  "My God, Addie, he's magnificent!" Since "he" had just left the kitchen after clearing the table and thanking Addie for supper, there was no doubt that Kate meant anyone but Cal McDonald. "Not classically handsome, of course, but very hot anyway. I think it's his eyes. Or those shoulders. Whatever. He's very, very hot, Addie. You lucky woman."

  "Shh, my mother will hear you." She rinsed off another plate and set it in the drainer for Kate to dry. "She has ears like a hawk."

  "Eyes like a hawk, ears like a … what? A wolf? A cat?" Kate grinned.

  "Fox," Addie said. "Ears like a fox, I think it is."

  "Your mother is upstairs giving two noisy boys a bath. How on earth could she hear us whispering in the kitchen? This house is big enough for four families."