Texas Forever (The Tylers of Texas 6)

As she helped herself to leftovers on the buffet table, she looked around for Kyle and his mother. They were nowhere to be seen. A glance out the front window confirmed that their car was gone.

Kyle was probably sore at her for avoiding him after the funeral. Never mind. She’d make it up to him later, after they’d both had some time to cool down.

Do you love him, Erin?

Beau’s question lingered in her mind. She’d replied that she didn’t even know what love was. But that wasn’t quite true. Love was what she’d observed between her mother and father, between Sky and Lauren, between Beau and Natalie—and what she’d heard in Jasper’s voice when he’d spoken of his beloved Sally. She had secondhand knowledge of what love was. But as far as she could tell, she’d never experienced it, not even when Kyle was kissing her.

She wanted a husband and family in the future. But what if something was missing in her? What would she do if love never happened?

CHAPTER FIVE

BY THE TIME LUKE HAD SHOD HIS SIXTEENTH HORSE FOR THE DAY and turned it out to graze, the sun was sinking behind the escarpment. Even at day’s end, its searing fire blazed like a brand against the pitiless blue sky. Heat waves shimmered over the gravel in the ranch yard. Blown by a stray breeze, a dust devil swirled across the pasture and vanished behind a clump of mesquite.

Dripping with sweat and aching in every muscle, Luke stowed the anvil and his tools in the trailer he’d parked alongside the barn. That done, he picked up an empty bucket, filled it with cold water from the pump, and tipped it over his head. The cold water flowed through his hair, trickled over his face, and streamed down his chest and back. He shuddered as the icy cascade gave his senses a welcome shock. The shed’s corrugated metal roof had lent some shade, but working in the space below had been like standing under a broiler.

&

nbsp; Recovering, he sluiced the water off his chest and arms, slicked back his hair, and reached for the chambray work shirt he’d tossed over a fence rail. By the time he made it to the bunkhouse kitchen, his body would be dry enough to slip the shirt on.

Shadows lengthened as he crossed the yard. The warm evening breeze carried the aromas of simmering ham and beans and fresh biscuits. Luke hadn’t eaten since breakfast and his empty belly rumbled with a working man’s hunger. He had no complaints about the meals here. The food was nothing fancy, but it was good, and there was plenty of it.

Other men would be coming in, too. The cowhands who shared the bunkhouse seemed friendly enough, but Luke, by habit, kept to himself. He seldom stayed long enough in any one place to make close friends. If things worked out, he’d be with the Rimrock through the fall roundup. Then, with winter weather coming on and no more horses to shoe, he’d likely head south to the big ranches that ran cattle year round. There were bosses down there who knew him and would have need of his skill.

Or he could go home to Oklahoma, where he’d been raised, and spend time with the elderly grandmother whose nursing home care he paid for. It cost a lot to keep her in a good place, but she had taken him in when he had nowhere to go. Aside from the half brother he’d lost touch with years ago, she was his only living relative. Almost ninety, she was too hard of hearing to use a phone, but he sent her monthly letters, which the caregivers read to her. And he kept the staff informed of his whereabouts—something he’d need to do again in the next few days.

Most of the time, he avoided thinking about his half brother Bart. Thoughts of Bart only triggered the nightmarish memory that had plagued him for years.

Eleven years his senior, Bart had reluctantly taken in twelve-year-old Luke. Life with Bart and his Comanche wife, sleeping on the sofa in their one-bedroom apartment and holding his ears against the noise coming through the bedroom door, had been no picnic. Neither had washing his clothes in the bathroom sink and going to school hungry most days. But at least he’d had a roof over his head, and he could look forward to the day when he’d be old enough to leave and get a job.

Then one night, everything had changed. Luke had been jarred out of sleep by the sounds of a drunken fight. He’d rushed into the kitchen to find a nightmare scene.

Brandishing a butcher knife, Bart had backed his wife into a corner. As Luke watched in horror, he’d slashed her face from her temple to the corner of her mouth. Amid the bleeding and screaming, Luke had thrown the woman a towel, ordered his drunken brother out of sight, and called 911 for an ambulance. That was the last he’d seen of her.

The police had never been called, but Bart had paid the price for what he’d done. His wife’s brothers had caught him alone and beaten him up so badly that he’d suffered head injuries and been forced to go on permanent disability. A few months later, when Bart had been arrested for stealing to support his drug habit, Luke’s widowed grandmother, who owned a small farm, had taken in the traumatized boy and given him the love and support he’d needed. Paying for her care now was the least Luke could do.

The call of a whip-poor-will brought Luke’s thoughts back to the present. In the big house, a single light had come on. Except for visiting family, the funeral guests had gone. Only the white Camry with rental plates remained parked among the family vehicles.

He remembered the sight of Erin in her simple blue dress, her loose-blowing hair catching the sunlight. His memory lingered for a moment on the way the sleeveless top had clung to the firm peaks of her breasts and narrowed around her tiny waist. The first sight of her had stopped his breath. Then he’d noticed the tall, handsome man with her and wondered if she’d picked up an older boyfriend. Luke’s relief, when she’d introduced the stranger as her uncle, had caught him by surprise. Why the hell should it matter? For all he cared, the man could be her sugar daddy.

All he wanted from the Rimrock Ranch was a season of steady work and enough money to pay for a few months of his grandmother’s care, with cash left over to get him to wherever he was going next. The last thing he needed was the distraction of Will Tyler’s sexy little princess daughter.

Forcing her image from his mind, he slipped on his shirt, buttoned it, and lengthened his stride toward the bunkhouse.

* * *

Erin took Kyle’s phone call in the kitchen, where she’d been cleaning up after an informal supper. He was sweetly repentant, apologizing for his earlier behavior and for being forced to escort his mother to the funeral.

“Mom was so emotional,” he said. “I didn’t know that she’d ever even met the old man. But when she took your dad’s hand, I thought she was going to cry. I wanted to come and find you, but she wouldn’t leave my side.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Erin said. “I was busy the whole time.”

“I know you’ll be going to the Hill Country for the burial tomorrow,” he said. “But I’m hoping we can spend some time together next week. Maybe we could even drive into Lubbock for a movie and dinner. We’ve gotten into a rut with the Burger Shack. It’s time we had a real date. How does that sound?”

“Not bad,” she hedged. “Let me check Dad’s schedule and see when he can spare me.”

“You’re not still mad at me, are you?”

“Of course not.” Erin could almost picture his puppy dog expression. “I’ll call you on Monday. We can make plans then.”