The Boones of Texas

Chapter Two

Annabeth watched her sweet little boy’s eyes go round as her grandmother chattered away.

“And then I found my teeth in my underwear drawer.” Grandma Florence patted Cody on the head.

Cody put the escaping gray kitten—the kitten making such a terrible racket the night of the storm—back on Grandma Florence’s lap. “Oh.”

Annabeth shook her head, stirring the onions in the skillet. “Grandma, I can get you another case for your dentures.” At least her grandmother only lost the storage containers and not the dentures themselves. That would get expensive real quick.

“It won’t do any good.” Her grandmother leaned forward, her whisper low and conspiratorial. “Because they’re not lost. Someone’s taking them. I think it’s that Franklyn. He’s always in my things, digging around. And he has that look.”

Annabeth knew the medical assistants at Grandma Florence’s home didn’t get much pay or much thanks, but poor Franklyn didn’t have a thieving bone in his body. What he did have was the patience of a saint. “What look?” Annabeth glanced at the older woman.

“You know...that look.” Florence screwed up her face in horror. “Like he’s watching me. Plotting things. Up to no good.”

Cody burst out laughing at his great-grandmother’s expression, making it impossible for Annabeth not to laugh, too.

The tiny prick of needlelike claws drew Annabeth’s attention down to her calves. Tom was hanging from her jeans, his little white-tipped tail sticking straight up. He mewed, his pink tongue on full display.

“You’re adorable,” Annabeth said to the kitten. “But it’s a good thing I don’t have a spatula in my hands or—”

“Ma,” Cody reprimanded her, kneeling at her feet to gently detach Tom from her pant leg. “Be good.” Cody lifted the kitten in his arms, carefully cradling the animal as he carried it across the room to the box he’d made for its bed.

“Cats in the kitchen.” Grandma Florence clicked her tongue. “Never heard of such a thing. Cats are barn critters. ’Course one time we had a cat that got too close to the—”

“Grandma Flo.” Annabeth was quick to interrupt. Her grandmother was rarely lucid enough to have a real conversation, but the old woman had a never-ending stream of stories to share. And not all of them had child-friendly endings. “How’s work?”

Florence sighed. “I’ve never met such a lazy group of people in my life, Hannah.”

Annabeth turned back to the cooking with a smile. Grandma Florence had dementia. On good days, Florence would call her Annabeth. But sometimes Annabeth was Hannah, Florence’s daughter and Annabeth’s mom, or Glenna, Florence’s sister.

“You do the best you can,” Annabeth encouraged her.

“I do.” Her grandmother nodded. “I do. Someone’s got to run a tight ship.”

Grandma Florence ran the assisted-living community where she lived. At least that’s what Grandma Florence thought. And the staff cooperated, within reason, to keep the feisty old woman under control. So far, it was the only facility Grandma Florence hadn’t successfully escaped. Annabeth hoped it would stay that way, or they’d have to move her again—and the next facility was two towns over.

Cody giggled, making Annabeth glance his way. He lay with the kitten on his chest. Tom seemed just as delighted, nuzzling and licking Cody’s nose.

The sheer joy in his laughter warmed her heart. God knew she didn’t want or need something or someone else to look after. Managing Cody, work and her grandmother didn’t leave her time for herself—let alone a stray fur ball. But Ryder had worked for a half hour to free the little guy from the abandoned house next door, and she couldn’t turn it out into the freezing cold.

Cody’s giggle jerked her back to the present. He pulled a colorful string of yarn across the floor, and Tom scampered after it, all ears and tail and gray fluff. Her sweet boy never asked for anything, so how could she tell him no when he’d asked to keep Tom? She didn’t. And now Cody and Tom were inseparable—unless Tom was climbing up her pants, panty hose, the curtains or the tablecloth.

There was a knock on the door. “Anyone home?” Ryder called out.

Ryder... She’d spent four weeks refusing to think about that night. Or Ryder. Or how mortified she was. She never acted without thinking things through. She could blame either the two shots or Ryder’s kiss for her outrageous behavior. She hoped, for everyone’s sake, it was the shots.

She took a deep breath before calling out her standard “Nope.” Sure, he hadn’t dropped by for dinner since it happened, but he used to. All the time. If she was being completely honest with herself, she—and Cody—had missed him. And there was no point in getting weird about things, either. Ryder was a part of her life. She liked having him around.

She’d just have to try harder to forget every touch, scent and sound from that night...or the way she ached when she thought about his hands on her. So she just wouldn’t think about it.

“You sure?” Ryder called out.

“R-r-ryder,” Cody laughed. “Mom’s m-making ’sgetti.”

“With meatballs? Smells good,” Ryder said. Annabeth turned as he walked into her small yellow kitchen, heading straight for Florence. “Well, if it isn’t the prettiest gal I know.”

Florence waved him to her wheelchair. “Get yourself on over here and give me a kiss.”

“Try to stop me,” Ryder said, hugging the older woman’s frail body tightly and kissing her cheek.

“I was wondering when you were coming home, Michael. It’s not good to spend so much time at the office. Especially when you’ve got a pretty little wife like Hannah, here, waiting at home.” She patted Ryder’s hand. “You’re a lucky man. You need to treat her right.”

Ryder looked at Annabeth. “Don’t I know it.”

Annabeth rolled her eyes, wishing his teasing didn’t sting. He might have chosen to be alone, but she hadn’t. Life was work, work she’d always thought she’d share with someone. She wanted to treasure the same memories, the same people, with someone who knew and loved her soul. But Greg was gone. Dating wasn’t on her detailed master plan for the next five years or so.

“Cody,” she spoke to her son. “Wash up and come to the table, please.”

“Yes, Ma.” Cody put the kitten in its padded box bed. “Stay put,” he whispered, rubbing its little head before he hurried down the hall to the bathroom.

“Cats in the kitchen,” Grandma Florence said. “Never heard of such a thing.” Ryder steered her wheelchair to the table.

“You staying for dinner?” Annabeth asked him as she set another place. At this distance it was hard to miss the bandage around his wrist and the dark, greenish-yellow smudge on his brow. “What happened?” She didn’t know which was worse: fighting or bull riding. She wasn’t a fan of either, but Ryder was Ryder.

“Bull wanted me to get better acquainted with the wall of the arena. So I obliged and flew straight into the pipes.” He held up his wrist. “Just a sprain. Almost healed up now.” Ryder cocked an eyebrow, his crooked smile doing a number on her. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head over me.”

She sighed, loudly. He laughed.

“Did it h-hurt?” Cody asked, staring at his wrist.

“Nah.” Ryder shook his head. “After breaking my collarbone, this was nothing.”

She remembered visiting him in the hospital then. “You were in so much pain.”

“Your lemon bars helped,” he answered, with a wink.

“I imagine the pain meds did, too.” She shook her head.

“Ma’s l-lem-mon bars are great,” Cody agreed.

“Totally.” Ryder nodded, sitting at the table. “And, since you’re asking so nicely, I’d love to stay for dinner.”

“Ma,” Cody sat. “Can I take T-T-Tom for show-and-tell?”

“Tom, huh?” Ryder asked, serving Florence some spaghetti.

Cody nodded, watching Ryder.

“Good name.” Ryder nodded at the boy.

And, just like that, her son was grinning from ear to ear. She loved to see him smile like that, as if he was a carefree five-year-old. “We can’t take animals to school, baby.” She grinned at him, cutting up Grandma Florence’s spaghetti. “But you can take in a few pictures if you want.”

Cody nodded. “’Kay.”

“Lady Blue’s ready. Parts came earlier this week,” Ryder said around a mouthful of spaghetti. “She’s purring like a kitten—” He winked at Cody. “Good as new.”

“Great.” She poked at the pasta on her plate. If Lady Blue was ready, then so was the bill. She still had almost twenty thousand to pay off on Grandma Florence’s last hospital stay. But she’d figure something out. She always did. “Guess it’s a little harder to work with an injured hand?”

“Not really. I’m good with both my hands.” His words made her warm all over.

“How’s Mags, Teddy?” Grandma Florence asked Ryder. Teddy was Ryder’s father, Mags his mom.

“She’s fine, Flo.” Ryder didn’t miss a beat.

“You tell her I’m still waiting on her chicken pie recipe. That recipe...” Florence sighed and shook her head.

Dinner conversation flowed. Ryder had funny stories from his latest rodeo stint, how his cowboy hat had a hole “clean through it” after getting hooked by a bull. Somehow he managed to make his almost serious injury into a comedy. Cody could hardly wait to show Ryder the model car he was building. And Grandma Florence told them that there was a flasher running around the retirement home.

Sunday nights were her favorite. She didn’t let herself think about the next day, the stress she was feeling—she tried not to.

She’d spent the past year being the principal Stonewall Crossing needed, and hopefully that was enough for the school board. But try as she might, she couldn’t ignore that her assistant principal Ken Branson knew the right people, had money, and a wife and kids. He was the total package. And serious competition for the job—if he applied.

She realized Ryder was watching her and shrugged off her worries. Her worries would keep until the company was gone and Cody was in bed.

She stood, clearing the table while the others chattered on. When that was done, she pulled out the apple pie she and Cody had made earlier that day. The scent of cinnamon and sugar filled the air and soothed her nerves. She loved baking. She loved cooking. There was something about preparing a meal and feeding friends and family that made her happy.

She cut two decent pieces for Cody and Grandma Florence and a larger piece for Ryder.

He nodded at her when she put the plate in front of him, his blue eyes lingering on her face a little longer than normal.

“You got your momma’s gift in the kitchen, Annabeth.” Florence reached for Annabeth’s hand.

Annabeth took it, kneeling by her chair to savor her grandmother’s moments of clarity. “She said she learned everything from you.”

Tears filled Florence’s eyes. “’Course she did. It’s a momma’s job to train her daughter in the kitchen. What sort of a wife and mother would she be if she couldn’t take care of her menfolk?” She winked at Ryder and smiled at Cody. “She’d be so proud of the woman you’ve become. Your daddy, too.”

“I’m trying.” Annabeth smiled.

“I know, Annabeth.” Grandma Florence shook her head. “You work too hard sometimes.”

“I do what needs to be done.” Annabeth kissed her cheek.

Grandma Florence shook her head. “Who takes care of you?”

Annabeth couldn’t answer that.

“Me,” Cody piped up, kissing her on the cheek. “Right, Ma?”

Annabeth nodded, hugging him to her. “Yep.”

“Lemme see that kitty o’ yours, Cody.” Grandma Florence patted Annabeth’s hand. “Thank you for dinner, Annabeth. You never forget our Sunday dinner.”

“It’s something I look forward to every week, you know that.” Annabeth held her grandmother’s hand in both of hers. This woman had been the one to teach Annabeth what it was to be strong while keeping a sense of humor. There wasn’t a day that went by that she didn’t hear one of Grandma Flo’s bits of wisdom in her head, guiding her.

“Here he is, Grandma,” Cody announced. Tom was squirming in his arms but settled down once he was placed on Grandma Flo’s lap.

“Well, he’s a fine tomcat.” Grandma Florence held the cat up, turning the mewling animal this way and that. “He’ll have long legs. A good mouser.”

“He will be fast.” Cody babbled on, his stutter barely tripping him up he was so excited. And Grandma Florence, bless her, didn’t say a thing.

Now if Annabeth could get the boys at school to stop teasing him, Cody might not be so quiet all the time.

* * *

RYDER PULLED THE dish towel off the hook by the sink. He smiled as he fingered the row of lemons stitched along the trim of the towel. No doubt Annabeth had stitched each one herself. Lemons were Annabeth’s thing. She had a yellow kitchen with lemon-print curtains and lemon-print towels. Hell, she even smelled fresh and sweet like the fruit itself. He swallowed, her scent tickling his nostrils as she leaned closer to place a dish on the rack.

“You don’t have to,” Annabeth murmured. “Rest your wrist.”

He didn’t say anything, just dried off the plates she’d stacked in the dish rack.

What would she say if he told her the injury was her fault? After he’d left the kitten in her hands, he’d spent the rest of the night drinking. He hadn’t had more than a couple of hours’ sleep when his riding and drinking buddy DB picked him up and took him to the rodeo. If he’d been thinking clearly, not torn up with guilt yet wanting her, it wouldn’t have happened. He’d have been thinking about the ride, not her. Not that she’d see it that way. No, she’d argue with him, tell him he was a grown man capable of making his own decisions...

She sighed as he dried another dish. He smiled.

It was the least he could do after inviting himself to dinner. Annabeth always made something special for Florence’s Sunday-night dinner. Annabeth always made him feel welcome. Florence and Cody made him feel wanted. Two things he never felt at his father’s table. He’d stayed away the past few weeks and he’d missed it. But tonight, he had news he had to share.

All of his hard work, endless tinkering and attention to detail might just pay off. He was a master mechanic; engines just talked to him. And his bodywork was a work of art. Apparently, the owner of a big custom garage in Dallas agreed. According to his boss, John, Jerry Johannsson, known as JJ, had seen some of Ryder’s bodywork and was impressed enough to track down Ryder’s whereabouts. JJ had badgered John, who wasn’t much of a talker, with all sorts of questions. Whatever John had said convinced JJ that Ryder should come for a visit. John wasn’t happy about Ryder’s interest, but he kept his opinions to himself. Maybe now Ryder would finally get out of Stonewall Crossing and away from his past.

As soon as John had told him, Ryder had headed to Annabeth’s house to share the good news over dinner. If there was one person who would support him, it would be Annabeth.

But something was wrong, he could tell. Tension seemed to weigh Annabeth down, and he didn’t like it. Whatever it was, his news could wait until he could fix whatever was wrong.

She tucked a long strand of her golden hair behind her ear, drawing his attention to her. To her ear...her neck. He spent plenty of time thinking about her—them—even though he knew better. Best thing he could do was find some sweet thing and wear himself out. Hell, the pretty medic that wrapped his wrist had offered to take him home for a more “thorough assessment.” He’d been curious. Her cherry-kissed lips and fiery red hair were tempting. But in the end he’d gone home alone. Just like he had every night since the night he’d shared with Annabeth. And it scared the crap out of him.

“Dishwasher broken?” he asked.

She nodded. “I still remember how to operate a sponge, so we’re good.”

He grinned at her. “Bet I can fix it.”

She shook her head.

“You don’t believe me?” he teased, nudging her with his elbow.

She looked up at him, her hazel eyes so big he paused. “I know you can, Ryder. It’s just...” She shook her head, plunging her hands back into the soapy water. “It’s fine.”

“Sure, if you like washing all your dishes by hand, maybe.” He set the dish in the drying rack and waited.

She couldn’t hold back her laugh, a free and easy sound. “Maybe I do.”

“I know better, Princess.” He took the plate she offered.

“Stop calling me that.” She sighed. “You don’t need to fix it. Okay? It’s not a big deal.”

“Right.” He frowned. “It’s a dishwasher.”

She glanced at him, a tell-tale flush on her cheeks.

He sucked in a deep breath. “What?”

She shook her head, turning back to the dishes.

“What’s eating you, Princess?” he murmured, willing her to look back at him.

“R-Ryder,” Cody held up the kitten. “Tom saw Doc F-F-Fisher. Says Tom is a good cat.”

“My brother would know. Fisher’s all about cats and dogs.” Ryder smiled at the boy and took the kitten, holding it up so they were eye to eye. The kitten swatted at Ryder’s nose. “Plenty of energy.” He laughed.

Cody nodded.

“That’s an understatement,” Annabeth added.

Ryder turned the kitten so it was nose to nose with her. The kitten started purring, his little paws kneading the air. She shook her head, but took the kitten and held it under her chin. “Yeah, yeah, you’re adorable.”

Ryder winked at Cody, who winked back. It was then that he noticed Grandma Florence snoring softly in her wheelchair.

“Naptime?” Ryder asked softly.

“She d-does that.” Cody grinned. “Any new cars?” Cody loved talking about cars—he was a lot like Greg that way. Every now and then, he’d take Cody to John’s garage with him. The boy had an endless fascination with the way things worked. He loved to tinker, putting things together, taking them apart. And Ryder respected that. A man should know how to work with his hands, to take care of things around the house and in the garage.

“Wh-what about the Cadillac?” Cody asked.

Ryder grinned. “Finished.”

“Can I see it?” Cody asked.

Ryder looked at Annabeth in question.

“Not tonight,” she hedged, not meeting his eyes. She handed Tom back to Cody, but Ryder saw the quick kiss she planted on the kitten’s head. “I’ve got to get Grandma home and finish the laundry before bed. Then I have a little work to do.”