The Texas Kisses Collection Read online

  Through the window of the tiny office she shared with the nursing home’s other professional staff, she could see the visitors’ car park, and beyond it, the lush green country that had given the town its name: Faerie Valley. The land was almost too beautiful to be real.

  A dark blue truck turned into the car park and stopped precisely in a marked bay.

  Alissa inhaled a sharp breath of happiness and nervousness.

  The truck’s door opened and a tall, blond, broad-shouldered giant jumped out. Craig. The tilt of his gray hat hid his face, but the set of his shoulders and the way he moved—striding out, rather than a relaxed amble—said he was in a temper.

  “It worked.” Alissa breathed a sigh of relief, before standing hurriedly.

  No. Better to be seated, working.

  She sat down just as Craig vanished from view. She poised her fingers over the keyboard, and realized they were shaking faintly. She frowned. There were tell-tale traces of pink around her nails that she hadn’t been able to scrub off.

  “I’m looking for Alissa McLeod.” Craig’s voice had a snap to it, the sound of command, as he addressed Mary at reception.

  Alissa listened to Mary’s flustered response, and then, to the strike of boots along the corridor.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll find her myself.”

  The butterflies in her stomach tangoed and somersaulted.

  And then Craig stood in the doorway.

  He looked wonderful there. He seemed to bring the energy and freedom of the outdoors in with him. But oh, what an ogreish frown.

  Alissa bit her lip to stop a nervous giggle.

  “Alissa Kristen McLeod.”

  “Ooh. Ominous.”

  He slapped his hat against his thigh. “Get your gear.”

  She concentrated on the computer screen. She wasn’t good at games. But this was one game she had to win…so, deep breath and pretend ignorance. She couldn’t look too eager to go with him or he’d become suspicious. “I’m busy, Craig. Tell me what this is about.”

  A big man shouldn’t be able to move that fast. He pounced and gripped her right hand, lifting it from the mouse. “Pink dye.”

  Darn.

  “Now, grab your gear unless you want to have this conversation, here?”

  “Not at work.” She’d volunteered extra hours at the nursing home for exactly this reason: so that she could leave, now, conscience clear. She and Craig needed to talk, but she’d needed to get his attention first.

  Be careful what you wish for, floated through her mind.

  Craig looked furious. The lines of his face were deep and set with tension.

  She’d expected he’d be annoyed, but not like this, not truly angry. The man she remembered, and who she’d corresponded with over the years, had a sense of humor. He could laugh at ridiculous things.

  Suddenly it was hard to breathe. What if she were wrong? What if she really was nothing more to him than an annoyance he tolerated because of his friendship with her older brother, Sean?

  Courage. She had to have courage and faith.

  “Two minutes.” She shut down the computer, locked up the files and picked up her bag. All the time she felt the weight of his gaze on her. It would have made her clumsy with nerves, except she’d spent years training her body to move gracefully, to cope with stress.

  Those hard lessons were paying off now.

  She walked up to him as he waited in the doorway. She expected him to move despite his anger. His mom had taught him manners. He stayed, and she stopped. She tilted her head up, looking at him.

  “Why did you do it?” he asked, low and rumbly.

  She felt his voice in the pit of her stomach. Her happy, nervous butterflies were fluttering a bit fearfully now. Hope was such a painfully brave thing to dare. But she inhaled, steadying herself, and forced her words not to rush. “Where do you want to talk?”

  He stepped back, but took her arm.

  The sweetness of the action—that habit had him still so careful of her, even when he was angry—caught her heart and sent it soaring. But it wasn’t his automatic, unthinking care she wanted. She slipped her arm out of his hold and clasped his hand. After a moment, his fingers closed around hers, and they walked together along the corridor and out through reception.

  “I’ll be in, tomorrow. Early,” Alissa told Mary. In fact, she’d probably beat the sun up—which would make two nights of severely curtailed sleep.

  She had no choice, though. There were things that had to be done before the Spring Faerie Fair opened in two days. The fair was a golden opportunity to raise funds for a therapy animals service. The nursing home’s residents needed contact with more than the bubble-blowing, bug-eyed goldfish in a fish tank in reception. They were Texans: they needed visits from dogs and horses, maybe even to adopt a cat.

  Alissa had grand plans, but the stumbling point, as always, was money. Well, money and Craig Murchison. She slanted a look up at him. When had he become so rigid in his thinking?

  But the feel of his hand clasping hers reassured her. His true heart, his caring and concern, were still there, deep inside. She just had to reach him—and if that meant turning his life upside down, she would!

  The nursing home’s door closed behind them. This early in spring, the morning air was cool, but fresh, and smelling of the new green leaves on the trees and of the cheery yellow jonquils planted out near the path. White clouds like puffy cotton candy drifted in the blue sky.

  Such perfection was why Alissa happily paid the price of a long drive into work at the hospital in Amarillo for the pleasure of living in her home town. Faerie Valley and its people were too precious to give up. She’d rejoiced to come home permanently after college and qualifying as an occupational therapist.

  She glanced at Craig as he released her hand and opened the passenger door of his truck.

  He’d seen a lot more of the world than she had. Was that part of his problem now? Not just adjusting to civilian life, but returning to a small town?

  Apparently, she took too long climbing in. He put her hands to her waist and lifted her into the truck.

  “Hey. I can manage.”

  “Heard that before.” He tucked her in and slammed the door.

  I can manage. Yes, he had heard it before. She’d fought hard for her independence, and now, she’d fight for something even more important: him.

  He got into the truck and turned on the engine, throwing an arm over the back of the seat as he reversed out of the parking spot. The sun struck his profile, highlighting the square stubbornness of his jaw.

  “Where are we going?” she asked. “We could talk here.” All she’d wanted was privacy.

  “We’re not going to talk.”

  “We’re not? But you said…” They had to talk. That was the point of what she’d done. He had to give her time and truly listen to her. “Are you really cross?”

  He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Yeah, Alissa. You painted my horse pink. Of course I’m mad. You can’t paint a man’s horse pink.”

  “You wouldn’t listen to me.” She ignored the fierce acceleration of the truck as they headed out of town. “Time and again we sat on the Spring Faerie Fair Organizing Committee and—”

  He interrupted. “It always used to be the plain ‘Spring Fair’. Adding ‘Faerie’ to it sounds like something from California.”

  “It sounds fun, Craig. And it is the town’s name. We should use it. People will drive up from Amarillo if we can get enough publicity. A faerie fair is the sort of thing to catch attention. The nursing home residents have been making a ton of faerie-themed crafts. Faerie wands and tiaras, cross-stitch bookmarks with faeries on, faerie scarves. The parents at the child care center are baking faerie cakes.”

  “It’s stupid. This is Texas. The fair was always about the local people. That’s what made it so good.”

  “It’s still about the locals, Craig. Only now, we’re welcoming others. Faerie Valley is beautiful. We should share it.”


  “It’s changing things.”

  She smiled. “You sound like Grandpa Hume grumbling. He’s ninety eight. Change isn’t bad.”

  “I know that.” But it didn’t sound like he believed it. A resolute, almost sullen tone, shaded his voice; a sign he’d resented her comment. “I have plans for Green Hills Ranch. Dad will look after the breeding side of things and I’m going to take over training the horses. We have a reputation for solid performance horses and I intend to build on that.”

  “You’ll make the ranch a Texas legend. I believe in you.” She did. She’d watched him come home from the army and dive into his chosen life. And she’d seen something more. She’d recognized that he was the man she’d judged all others by. She loved him.

  He wasn’t listening. He gripped the steering wheel and glared at the road ahead. “So don’t say I hate change. But the fair doesn’t need to change. This whole faerie theme is stupid.”

  She winced. She’d known his views, but to hear them stated so plainly still hurt. The faerie theme was her idea. It was her way of helping the town to raise much needed funds. Craig’s family might run a successful quarter horse stud farm, but there were plenty of people in town who were doing things tough. The fair would provide a boost both directly for those running stalls at it, and indirectly, for those employed at the motel, restaurants and diner in town.

  Meryl, at the bed-and-breakfast, was frankly counting on the fair to help her pay her taxes.

  Alissa recalled all she knew of people’s struggles—and they often confided in her when they visited family and friends at the nursing home—and felt a flicker of anger ignite. Craig was behaving badly; either oblivious of others’ struggles, or selfish.

  “Faerie Valley should stay as it’s always been.” He laid down the law.

  “Well, it hasn’t. You went away.”

  “I was serving my country.”

  “And we’re proud of you and grateful.”

  He jerked his head, rejecting her words.

  She stared at him for a long moment. “What do you want, Craig? To come home to a dream that has never changed? We can’t give you that. To keep the good things, we have to change and grow. If we don’t, we’ll be like…like toadstools growing on a rotting fallen tree.”

  “I don’t want anyone to give me anything.” He rather obviously bit back a swear word. “If you don’t know that about me, you don’t know me at all. You’ve changed, Alissa.”

  She slumped in her seat. Be careful what you wish for. She’d wanted him to notice that she’d grown up. But he was the opposite of impressed by her strength.

  She sighed.

  “Don’t do that,” he snapped

  “What?”

  “Sigh as if you’re the one disappointed. You painted my horse pink. That’s proof your idea of a faerie-themed fair is craziness.”

  “All right.” She kept her voice level to avoid him accusing her of sighing again. But her spirit sighed. This was so not how she’d pictured things turning out. It seemed no matter what she did, Craig wasn’t going to see her as a woman, an attractive woman. She’d tried pretty clothes, shy flirtation and her award-winning chocolate raspberry cake that she’d served at the last Spring Faerie Fair Organizing Committee meeting. She gave up. She’d regroup and maybe later he’d be in a better mood. She shouldn’t have messed with the man’s horse. “You’ve chewed me out. You can drive me back to the nursing home.” Evidently, she wasn’t going to get through to him how important the faerie theme was.

  “Oh no. You don’t get out of things that easily.” He slowed the truck, indicating for a turn. “We’re going to the ranch.”

  Chapter 2

  Green Hills Ranch was home. Craig drove down the driveway, waiting for the familiar sense of welcome and belonging to settle in his soul.

  He loved the place. He loved the oak trees his grandfather had planted that lined the driveway, their branches extending high overhead and slowly coming into leaf. He felt a deep satisfaction at looking beyond them to the fields where the ranch’s quarter horses were out enjoying the sunshine and early spring grass. Visitors exclaimed at the attractive setting, the rolling hills and wilder land further back where you could hunt for turkey and deer or fish in the lake for crappies. Green Hills Ranch was a place where a man could find peace.

  Yet that sense of welcome was missing, today. He felt edgy and out of sorts, and he blamed the woman beside him.

  He hadn’t wanted to join the Spring Faerie Fair Organizing Committee in the first place, but he’d taken one look at the worry his mom couldn’t quite hide when she’d made the suggestion, and he’d surrendered. He knew what she feared. She watched television news coverage of post-traumatic stress disorder with too much attention.

  His mom was wrong. He didn’t have PTSD. He had army buddies who did, and he recognized the symptoms, but that curse had passed him by; like the physical injuries others had suffered and he hadn’t. He thanked God for bringing him home safe.

  Still, to reassure his mom, he’d agreed to get involved with the annual fair.

  He should have known to recon it first, to scout the ground. But how could he have guessed things would have changed so much?

  Alissa had changed so much.

  It shocked him. When he’d joined the army, she’d been a sweet kid struggling to recover from crippling injuries.

  Her accident could have left her side-lined from life. Some people would have given up. But Alissa had endured operations and physical treatments and exercise until her broken pelvis and legs healed and once more let her move freely. The whole town had been behind her, supporting her and raising money for her recovery.

  She was Faerie Valley’s angel. At fifteen she’d saved little Mae’s life. The five year old granddaughter of retired teacher, Mrs. Garcia, had been playing in her grandma’s front yard while Mrs. Garcia chatted over the fence with her neighbor, Mrs. Hamersley. Neither had noticed the loose catch on the gate or that it had swung open.

  Alissa had been pushing her bike home after it got a puncture. She saw Mae’s blue ball roll out onto the road and the little girl dash after it. Alissa had run faster yet. She’d shouted, dropped her bike and run after Mae, half-pushing, half-throwing the child clear of the car bearing down on them. The little girl had scratched an elbow, knee and grazed her palms. Alissa had been hit, but miraculously survived without internal injuries.

  Still, the long path back to full mobility would have daunted other people. Craig knew soldiers who’d given up on treatment earlier than Alissa’s teenage self. It was no wonder that as a self-appointed big brother, he’d looked out for her. He’d sent her email jokes while she’d been in hospital, and gradually through the years, they’d continued to chat online. He’d listened to her moan about her studies and he’d censored but shared some of his experiences of life in the army.

  Yet now, she sat beside him like a stranger. He couldn’t say she was sulking. But he also felt disconnected from her even as her presence teased him.

  He’d grown accustomed to using all of his senses when on patrol in the army. But now he didn’t smell dust, mud or blood. He smelled straw and horse, the way his truck usually smelled. And something more, something tantalizingly different, something feminine and spring-like, that made his hands tighten on the steering wheel.

  He glanced across at Alissa and saw her hands on her lap, her slender fingers tense. He also saw the marks of pink around her nails and his temper flared all over again. He felt betrayed that she hadn’t understood what he was doing, what he was trying to protect. Faerie Valley was special. It didn’t need to change, and he’d fight to keep it that way.

  He slowed the truck as the driveway ended, pulling in to park under an oak tree. His parents’ ranch house was on the right, red brick, solid and rambling, very 1950s but none the worse for that. It was built solid, to last. On the porch, the old swing had new cushions his mom had sewn and her roses grew nearby, brown sticks at the moment, but in summer they’d
perfume the air.

  Craig and his dad’s pride centered on the barns and training facilities, and the office attached. There were no flowers there, but the white paintwork was fresh and the green roofs suited the name of the ranch, Green Hills. Pecan trees set back from the “new” fifteen year old arena provided shade in summer. Craig had planted those with his dad while he was in high school.

  On leave, he’d stayed with his parents, sleeping in his old bedroom, but now that he was home for good, he was at the hunter’s cabin by the lake. It was small but comfortable, watertight, with a wood stove for the cold nights and good plumbing since his mom had always insisted on renting the cabin to a “better type” of hunter, one who brought his wife and family with him.

  In time, he’d see about building his own home. His parents weren’t old and he doubted his dad would ever retire, so Craig would need his own place, somewhere to bring a wife and raise a couple of kids, but there was no rush. For now, all he craved was to sink into the unchanging comfort of home.

  He got out of the truck, feeling the thud of impact travel up his body as his boots hit the ground. Temper never helped anything. He set his jaw, annoyed at himself, and rounded the front of the truck. He saw Alissa’s face through the windscreen. He couldn’t decipher her expression: not sadness or defiance or anything he could put a label to. But he knew she watched him walk around and open her door.

  Their gazes locked.

  Her clear eyes were blue, the color of a summer sky at dawn.

  He stepped back, holding the door wide. “Climb out.” He slammed the door once she had, and caught her hand. He wasn’t sure how he felt when her fingers curled trustingly around his. He stopped and stared down at her. “I’m mad at you.”

  “I know.” She held his gaze unwaveringly, something soldiers hadn’t been able to do when he was sergeant. “I’m not too happy with you, either. But we can disagree about the fair and still be friends.”