The Texas Kisses Collection Page 5

  The faint lift in her voice, making the last statement a question, bothered him. So he ignored it. “Come and see what you’ve done.”

  He’d have dragged her with him, but she matched step as they headed into the largest barn. His favorite mare, Summer Rose, was in here. He’d had a buyer lined up to come and look at her. She was a performance horse with a lot of promise. But he’d had to cancel the appointment. The buyer would not have been impressed by her current appearance.

  As they entered the barn, it took a second for their eyes to adjust from the brightness outside to the relative dimness of the straw and horse-scented interior. Sawdust muffled their steps.

  “Good morning, Alissa,” Craig’s dad, Joe, drawled from near Summer Rose’s stall.

  “Good morning, Mr. Murchison,” she sounded subdued and pulled her hand from Craig’s. “How are you?”

  “I reckon I don’t rightly know.” Joe’s amusement came through clearly as he looked back at Summer Rose.

  Alissa blushed. “There’s a reason I—”

  “Painted the mare pink?”

  The mare nudged Joe, wanting her ears scratched. Her pink ears.

  Craig grimaced. Alissa had done a thorough job. Instead of a gray horse, what stood in front of them was a bright pink, such as little girls loved, with her white mane and tale showing startlingly. Craig couldn’t see them now, but he knew Alissa had taken the time to paint Summer Rose’s hooves silver. A faerie horse! In Texas!

  Alissa folded her arms and tipped her head just a fraction. In women or horses, that gesture meant defiance. “Yes, I painted the mare pink. I wanted to show your son that a faerie horse wouldn’t be so bad. I thought they could be in the Spring Faerie Fair parade.”

  Joe chuckled. “You were always imaginative, and determined.”

  Craig remained unamused. “I brought her here to wash the damn stuff off.”

  His dad’s easy humor vanished and he frowned. “Watch your language, son.” Joe never swore.

  Craig found the adjustment hard after the army’s endless profanity.

  “It’s all right, Mr. Murchison. I hear worse at work when my patients say I’m torturing them.”

  “But you get them up and moving again, back to enjoying life. You’re a good girl.”

  Disgusted by his dad’s indulgent, approving attitude toward Alissa, while the proof of her mischief stood in front of them, calmly chewing hay, Craig strode off to collect a bucket, soap and a couple of large sponges. He returned and shoved them at her.

  She stared from them to him, and then, beyond him to where Joe stood. She shook her head fractionally before refocusing on Craig.

  He had to bite back some harsh words. Evidently, his dad had wanted to interfere, but Alissa had told him to let it be. He drew his shoulders up and back. At least she understood that she had a lesson to learn. She shouldn’t meddle in his life. He wasn’t being rude or unkind. He was drawing a line in the sand. If this was what it took to get through to Alissa that he would not support her faerie theme for the fair and parade, then so be it. He was angry, angrier than ever at what felt like betrayal: first by Alissa, and then, by his dad in backing her.

  Apparently, she read his grim determination because she took the cleaning gear.

  He put a rope on Summer Rose and led the mare out to the sheltered yard, warm with spring sunshine, where a hose would allow Alissa to wash out the dye.

  “And heaven help you if the paint is permanent.”

  “It’ll wash off. I researched on the internet that it wouldn’t hurt Summer Rose.” Her voice was lifeless. She put the bucket on the ground and straightened, watching him fasten the lead rope. She looked pretty in her green shirt with its white trim, and her black trousers that outlined her slim figure.

  He hesitated. Those were her good clothes, her work clothes. He was mad, but he wasn’t unfair. Perhaps this wasn’t such a good idea.

  She picked up the hose. “Out of the way, Craig, or you might get wet.”

  Chapter 3

  Alissa turned the hose on and concentrated on wetting Summer Rose sufficiently that the soap would lather. The mare stood quietly, one of the reasons Alissa had chosen her in the first place to paint pink.

  Craig stood in the entrance to the small south-facing yard.

  Did he think he had to stop her bolting? He was so wrong. She had started this and she’d finish it. He was more intractable than she’d bargained on, but then, he’d been a sergeant in the US army. He’d hardly be a pushover.

  But nor was she.

  She turned the hose off and advanced on Summer Rose.

  Craig strode forward and took the bucket from her.

  “Hey!” If she was going to do the job—and part of her acknowledged that in all justice she ought to be the one cleaning up her mischief—he had to let her get on with it.

  “I’ve changed my mind,” he said.

  He’d bent to take the bucket, and that put his face near hers. She couldn’t resist. She touched a finger to the dual frown lines between his dark blonde eyebrows.

  He pulled back and looked at her.

  She smiled. This was the man she loved. He was cross with her, but his innate gallantry wouldn’t let him stand by while she worked. “I’ll clean up, Summer Rose. My mess, my responsibility.”

  “You’ll get wet, and you’ll dirty your pretty clothes.”

  “I’ll dry, and my clothes will wash.” She gripped the bucket handle, her hand small against his large fist.

  They both looked down at their hands. Then Craig shook his head. “No.” He straightened, pulling the bucket away.

  Alissa couldn’t resist. He was simply wonderful, kind beneath his air of quiet authority. She stood on tiptoe, a hand on his shoulder and went to kiss him. Nothing drastic, just a friendly kiss on the cheek.

  He reared back and away, fast, leaving her teetering, almost falling, so that she put a hand on Summer Rose’s wet shoulder. The mare didn’t move.

  Alissa blinked rapidly, rejection flooding her face with hot, embarrassed color. “I was only going to kiss your cheek. As a thank you.” Even as a teenager she’d never felt this awkward, this…stranded. What had she done? All those efforts to attract Craig’s attention—her lovely clothes, the chocolate raspberry cake, her new perfume—and he’d been trying to let her down gently. He wasn’t interested.

  No wonder her painting Summer Rose pink hadn’t been cute in his eyes. He found her annoying.

  She looked around desperately. There was nowhere to run, no way to retreat with dignity. Craig had driven her to the ranch and she needed a lift back to town. She could ask Joe, but…time to face the music. Faerie Valley was a small town. She’d be meeting Craig for years, decades. She had to face him, now, so she could face him later.

  Meantime, he put the bucket down slowly. “Maybe I should drive you back to the nursing home?”

  Great minds thought alike—except they didn’t. She nodded, not quite meeting his eyes. “Yeah, that’d be good.”

  “I’ll just get someone to finish washing off Summer Rose.”

  She watched him walk back into the barn. He was strong and gorgeous, and not hers. Her gasp for breath was not quite a sob. She whirled away and hurried back to his truck. She didn’t dare risk him returning suddenly and seeing her gazing heartsick after him.

  Craig walked into the barn and stopped a moment, not to let his eyes adjust—the barn wasn’t that dark—but to let his heart calm down. Out in the yard, when he’d thought Alissa was about to kiss him, his heart had given a giant kick. A thud he’d felt through his whole body.

  For one wild instant he’d forgotten she was his best friend’s little sister and seen only her beautiful face, those smiling blue eyes, and lips sweet and, yes, pink.

  He’d lost his mind. For half an instant he’d turned his face so that her innocent thank-you kiss would land not on his cheek where she’d intended it, but on his mouth. He’d wanted to taste her.

  And then shock and self-dis
gust had kicked him in the gut, and he’d had enough sense to step away.

  She thought he was an idiot, that was obvious, but better than him breaking her trust. He’d always been a big brother to her. He was the guy people relied on.

  He called to Max, one of their ranch hands, and asked him to finish washing down Summer Rose. “Alissa has to get back to town.”

  “No problems.” Max laughed. He laughed easily, a happy family man, content in his work. “I took a photo of Summer Rose and sent it to my girls. They loved it.” Max had four daughters, the pride of his life.

  Craig hesitated. Alissa had argued at the Spring Faerie Fair Organizing Committee meeting that including “faerie horses” in the parade would appeal to people, but he’d dismissed her words as nonsense imported from the city. In his opinion, people at a county fair wanted a real Texas experience. But you couldn’t get much more real than Max, a fifth generation Texan, and he was obviously in favor of a painted Summer Rose. Perhaps having daughters softened a man’s brain?

  But Craig wasn’t unreasonable. He could compromise. If Alissa really wanted a faerie horse in the parade, she could find a child’s pony and dress it up. There were solutions to every problem. She oughtn’t to have been so stubborn and insisted on him dolling up his horses. That’s where all today’s insanity had started.

  He turned on his heel and strode out of the barn.

  Alissa waited by the truck. She stood in the shelter of an oak tree, with shade from the new leaves concealing her expression.

  He beeped the truck unlocked and she climbed in.

  Other days he’d have opened the door for her. It was as old-fashioned courtesy that had started as a mask for helping her cope with her injuries, and had continued through the years out of habit, because she was Alissa.

  So it felt wrong to head directly to the driver’s side of the truck and climb in.

  The atmosphere in the truck was even more awkward. He made a command decision: to ignore the scene in the yard when he’d acted like a jerk. Don’t dwell, move on. But the world had changed. Now, he couldn’t help seeing Alissa’s beauty.

  As he drove down the driveway, the purity of her profile hit him like a punch to the gut. Instead of looking beyond her, through the passenger window, to check the horses in the field, his gaze hooked on her and stayed. And he was shocked at himself for being unable to look away as the thought came to him that her figure wasn’t just slim and graceful, but sexy.

  Sexy! Alissa, his best friend’s little sister, the girl he’d always looked out for.

  She wound her ponytail around her hand in a nervous gesture, leaving the soft skin of her neck bare for an instant.

  It would feel like silk.

  He wrenched his attention back to the road and stared grimly ahead, rather than make her even more uncomfortable. He was about to reach for the radio, to turn it on and fill the silence, when Alissa proceeded to rock his world.

  “We’re both on the Organizing Committee, but the fair is this weekend. We can work together.”

  “H-heck. Of course we can.”

  She ignored his near slip into swearing and continued in a cool professional voice.

  He hadn’t heard it from her before. This would be how she spoke to her difficult patients. He hated the thought that she was now addressing him that way.

  She wouldn’t even look at him. “I’ll keep the faerie-themed stuff away from you.”

  “No need.” None of this was her fault. What was a pink horse? Nothing. But this awkwardness between them—an awkwardness he’d created—he hated it. She ought to feel safe and behave naturally with him. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

  He watched her hands tense. Long fingers interlaced and the knuckles went white. He forced his attention back to the road. They were nearing town and traffic had increased. They’d be at the nursing home in a minute. He was half-tempted to keep on driving. They needed to sort things out. But what things? and how to do so?

  “I understand, Craig. You don’t want things to change. I’m like your kid sister, and I guess I’ll be okay with that—someday.”

  He stared at her baffled as he drew up and parked at the nursing home.

  Then she prepared to drop her bombshell, her voice quiet, gentle. “You’ve been really patient with me, with my faerie theme and…everything.”

  She took a deep breath and he silently cursed himself for noticing how her breasts lifted. He focused on her eyes, deep blue, welling with some emotion he couldn’t identify.

  “Have a good life, Craig. I hope it’s as stable and enduring as you’re looking for.”

  He frowned, attention caught by the oddly forlorn, final note in her voice.

  “Good-bye.” She fumbled with the door handle, got it open and nearly fell out of the truck in her haste.

  Alissa clung to the handle for a moment, getting her balance physically and emotionally before she closed the truck door behind her. That should show Craig that she could handle his rejection of her hopes and dreams; the total insult of him avoiding her friendly kiss in the stable yard.

  Had she really come across as so desperate that he couldn’t endure a kiss on the cheek?

  Her soul cringed, but she put her chin up, straightened her shoulders and walked towards the nursing home door. He’d be watching her, so pride kept her moving. But she listened intently for the relief of the truck engine starting up.

  Please, go. Just go.

  Instead, boots hit the gravel and the truck door slammed.

  She sped up. The nursing home door was close.

  Craig gripped her upper arm and spun her around; spun her fast enough that she landed smack up against him, steadying herself with two hands on his chest.

  She pulled back fast, but he kept hold of her arm. Kept her with him. It was torture.

  “Alissa.”

  She waited, but he said nothing more. Reluctantly, she looked up to meet the gaze of the boy she remembered and the man he’d become.

  Dark blue and stormy, his eyes searched hers. “Are we good?” he asked finally.

  Typical male inability to handle emotion or put it into words. Are we good? Wasn’t that what she’d been trying to say to him, that they’d forget this morning had ever happened and that she’d hide her feelings in future? All good. Everything would be like he wanted: unchanging.

  Her heart hurt.

  “Yeah.” She made herself smile, but it died as she saw him focus on her mouth. Of course he’d notice her lower lip tremble. “I’ve got work I should do…”

  Such a lame excuse, but it would let them end this scene.

  He touched a hand to her face, light as a butterfly wing, and away.

  It was too much—and so much less than she’d hoped for. A caress born of pity and old affection. With a muffled sob she tore herself out of his hold and ran into the nursing home.

  Chapter 4

  Craig didn’t know what to do. The experience was an unusual and unpleasant sensation in his decisive, hard-working life. The flat of his left hand bounced against the steering wheel as he headed back to the ranch.

  He’d hurt Alissa’s feelings. He’d been clumsy and crass and she’d run away from him.

  She’d been crying!

  He hated that he was responsible for those tears.

  How had it all gone so wrong? Two hours ago, he’d been the injured party. Angry, and rightly so, because she’d painted his horse pink.

  He shook his head. Pink.

  And now, he felt like the villain. Worse, she had him questioning the basis of his life.

  The decision to leave the army had been an easy one. He’d been proud to serve his country—believed it was something a man should do—but he’d never intended to make the army his life. His life was here, in Faerie Valley. He’d dreamed of it through all the years away.

  Only now, as his foot came off the accelerator and he looked around, he could see the changes. Some ranch land—the Lorrimors’ place—had gone for housing
. If he thought about it honestly, maybe some of the strangers in town weren’t visitors, but newcomers. Just maybe some of the life he’d planned was based on ten year old memories rather than reality.

  For a man who prided himself on seeing things as they were, that was a blow. How blind had he been? Alissa had tried to tell him, to show him the changes. At meetings of the Spring Faerie Fair Organizing Committee, she’d spoken about the new child care center that the town’s changing population required, but he hadn’t listened. She’d even offered to walk him through it, but she’d been wearing a dark purple dress that day and had looked warm and strokable, and that wrong thought had had him hurtling out the door claiming he was too busy to look at child care centers.

  He pulled up at the ranch and sat a moment in the truck. He might be mule-headed stubborn, but some things were becoming clear. He might have chosen to ignore his impulses previously, but today was far from being the first time he’d noticed that Alissa was all grown up. Only, today, he’d nearly acted on that realization.

  Would it be so bad if he did?

  He could hardly make a bigger mess of things than he had this morning. Alissa had been in tears at his rude behavior.

  He headed for the yard where Max was washing down Summer Rose.

  But Max wasn’t there. Instead, the mare stood patiently while Craig’s dad rubbed her dry. Faint streaks of pink showed on the wet ground, but the horse’s coat was white, again.

  Silently, in the privacy of his mind, Craig swore.

  Joe never did anything without a reason. It was a character trait Craig had inherited. That he was here, meant he was waiting for Craig, and had something to say.

  “Came off easy enough.” Joe rubbed the mare’s ears, looking at his son over her neck. “Alissa always knows what she’s doing. She wouldn’t have chosen a paint that would cause trouble.”

  “I was meant to be showing Summer Rose to a buyer this morning. I had to put them off.” Craig defended himself from the implied criticism of his dad’s defense of Alissa. And from his own conscience questioning if he’d over-reacted.