From Texas, With Love. Cathy Thacker Gillen
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And she thought she’d known trouble before. “Forget it.” Samantha bumped bodies with him again, shifting around until she was on her side, facing the wall. They had maybe an inch between them. She could still fell the heat emanating from his skin. Hear his deep, even breathing.
Knowing this had been a gigantic mistake on her part, but not about to admit it, she closed her eyes and tried to relax. Unsuccessfully. Yet before long she could tell, from the sound of Will’s breathing, that he was asleep.
She was safe. There’d be no more verbal sparring, no more quietly searching looks, no more attempts to figure her out, for at least a few hours. Just blissful rest with a strong, capable man lying beside her.
She ought to feel relieved at the respite from all the emotional stuff.
So why didn’t she?
WILL AWOKE AT SHORTLY after six in the morning. Remaining perfectly still, he looked at the woman beside him. She was sleeping soundly, her body not touching his. It hadn’t been that way all night, he recalled, with a strange mix of feelings. At around 2:00 a.m. he had wakened to the sound of a soft gasp and a slight vibration of the bed. It had taken him a minute to realize the shaking was in her chest. Samantha hadn’t struck him as a woman who did a lot of crying—if any—so the sight of the hand pressed to her mouth and the tears running down her face, as she struggled to suppress any signs of weakness, even in sleep, had made his own gut tighten.
Howard had told Will that his kid sister had had one hell of a childhood after their parents died, and it was all Howard’s fault.
Will knew what it was like to lose a parent. Samantha had lost both, plus her only brother, all at once. She’d survived by becoming tough. But that toughness was cracking under the stress of all that had happened to her recently….
Samantha stirred and turned, elbowing him sharply in the chest. Will grunted, and the noise woke her. She looked startled, as if she didn’t know where she was or how the hell he happened to be there. Sure he couldn’t handle an assault on his ears before he’d had coffee, he cupped a hand lightly over her mouth, in case she screamed. “It’s okay.”
A pleat formed between her brows as reality slowed dawned. “Says you. I’m stiff all over.” She moaned. “I need to get up.”
So did he. All this shifting around had made him think of things he didn’t need to be thinking about. He threw back the covers, eased off the mattress, stood and offered her a hand up.
Too late, he noticed that her sleep shirt had twisted around her waist, revealing black French-cut panties and a perfect body. Flushing, she scrambled to cover herself, while he got a clean pair of jeans from the row of metal lockers that served as his closet, and pretended he hadn’t seen. “I’ve got to go talk to my mechanic.” Will grabbed a shirt and boots and headed out the door.
An hour later, he had finished touching base with everyone who worked for him when Samantha walked into his office, looking gorgeous in a sophisticated black turtleneck sweater and slacks that would have been right for a New York spring day, but were way too hot for April in Texas. “How do I get to this breakfast with my brother?”
Happy to see her looking like herself again, he rose. “I’ll escort you.”
She peered at him skeptically. “You will?”
He reached for his keys. “Sure. Got to eat. Molly’s a heck of a cook.”
“Fine,” she muttered, running a hand through her wavy brown hair. “Then we head back to New York?”
“I told you I’d take you,” Will confirmed.
I just didn’t say exactly when.
Chapter Three
“You ever been to Laramie before?” Will asked from behind the wheel of his extended-cab pickup truck.
Samantha turned her gaze to peaceful tree-lined streets, a beautiful downtown district with historic buildings and a mixture of quaint and modern businesses. This was the West Texas of travel brochures, complete with a movie production studio helmed by legendary actor-director Beau Chamberlain, and a garment factory that produced Jenna Lockhart clothing. They passed the Lone Star Dance Hall, the limestone county courthouse and the community hospital before turning onto Houston Street. Restored Victorian houses sat on elegantly manicured lawns. Spring was in full bloom, as attested by the colorful flower beds and leafy trees.
Aware that Will was waiting for an answer, Samantha replied, “No. I’ve never been in this part of the state.” Emerging from the vehicle, she spoke above the sounds of a lawn mower one block over. “I grew up in Beaumont. Left Texas the year I turned eighteen. Never to return, until now.” Now that she was back, soaking up the distinctive Lone Star ambience, she wondered if that might not have been a mistake. There was something about this part of the country that felt familiar and much more comforting than she could have imagined.
Will met up with her at the bumper. He slid a hand beneath her elbow as they moved up the walk toward the pine-green frame home with white shutters and trim. “You went to NYU on scholarship, right?”
Trying not to think how much this reminded her of the home she’d grown up in, albeit on a much grander scale, Samantha eased away from his touch. “How’d you know that?”
Will shoved his hands in his pockets. “Howard told me. He thought it was because you wanted to be near him, since he was working for an investment banking firm on Wall Street back then.”
If anything, that had been a major deterrent, Samantha recalled with the bitter resentment that had haunted her for years. “Not quite,” she clarified. “That just happened to be where I got the best scholarship.”
The front door opened. A petite woman with short, curly red hair and flushed cheeks emerged. She had a smudge of flour on her chin and a welcoming light in her eyes. In contrast to Samantha’s brother, who was dressed like the investment banker he was, Molly wore jeans, a turquoise Western shirt and boots. Samantha had been prepared not to like her any more than she liked her brother. That was impossible, she soon found.
“Howdy, y’all!” Molly beamed, enveloping her in the kind of fierce, familial hug Samantha hadn’t had since she was eight. “Welcome!”
Molly ushered them in, leading the way through the spacious country kitchen at the rear of the home, to the slate-floored, screened-in porch overlooking the backyard. “I’m so glad you agreed to be in our wedding!”
Shocked by the assumption, Samantha took a step back and bumped into Will’s chest. His hand came up to steady her.
Howard sent an apologetic look at his bride-to-be. “I haven’t asked her yet.”
An uncomfortable silence fell over the group. Molly looked back at Samantha with an expression of longing for acceptance that Samantha understood only too well.
“Then I will,” Molly told him softly, clearly not understanding why Howard had delayed on this. “Samantha, we both would like it very much if you would be my maid of honor. It would be wonderful to have you as part of our wedding party. You’ve already met Will here—he’s the best man.”
Yet another reason why she should decline the invitation, Samantha thought.
The four of them sat down at a beautifully set wicker-and-glass table. “That’s very sweet of you to ask,” she hedged as they passed the dishes around, family style.
“It would mean so much to us,” Molly stated, the yearning for family plain in her eyes. “To me, especially, since you’ll be my first—my only—sister.”
Samantha had always wanted a sister, too. But becoming close to Molly meant being near her brother, as well.
Determined not to bring Molly into their feud, she gestured apologetically. “It’s not really a good time.” She tried not to think how long it had been since she’d had sausage