Coming Home to Texas--A Clean Romance Read online

  “That’s why you were here so early? To do this?” She swallowed hard over a lump in her throat. “Tony, if you hadn’t come...if you hadn’t seen the fire when you did, and called it in, and acted so fast to move the stock...”

  She couldn’t finish, couldn’t bear to think of what might have happened.

  “That’s true, isn’t it?” he said. “I hadn’t realized.”

  “Yes, you had.”

  He grinned. “Yeah. I had.”

  Then he said, “Did you, uh, did you see the board on top?”

  She laughed, a little shakily. “Yes. Yes, I saw.”

  He leaned over toward the swing and swept a hand under the words in an exaggerated flourish.

  “There’s writing on it,” he said. “See? Tony loves Dalia.”

  “I see.”

  Why did she have to say it like that, all dry and flat? What was wrong with her that she always got so tongue-tied at times like this? She knew how cold it made her sound. But the truth was that sometimes she felt so much that none of the words she could think of were enough.

  Tony put his hands in his pockets, looking nervous again. Probably she’d been giving him a full-on death glare.

  “It’s true,” he said. “I know I’ve let you down a lot. But I love you, Dalia. I never stopped. Look, I...I want to explain about why I rode the bull.”

  “You don’t have to—”

  “Just listen, okay? I guess it started when we were at the FFF, and I was kinda down because I couldn’t land the football as well as I used to, and—for other reasons, too. And then I rode Mr. Mendoza’s mechanical bull. And it felt so good to perform well at something like that, it was like I was young again and my vision didn’t matter and I could still do things. And it made me remember that other time, at the little rodeo, when you were there and you saw me ride, and...I wanted you to feel that way about me again.”

  How did he do that? He didn’t second-guess; he just said what he felt and didn’t worry how it would sound.

  She wasn’t like that, and she never would be. But maybe she didn’t need words.

  She took both his hands and kissed them. His fingers opened up and cupped her face.

  And standing there with her head bowed and her eyes shut, feeling him but not looking at him, she found some words after all.

  “I do feel that way about you, Tony. I always have. And as far as you wanting to feel young again—look, you’re twenty-six, okay? You’re not exactly over the hill. You’re still an amazing athlete. And you’re a firefighter, which I would think would be enough risk and excitement for anybody. But you’re not me. You crave things like that. That’s who you are. You like taking chances. And if you want to keep riding, I’ll try not to be scared. That’s why I got mad, because I was scared. I don’t always think straight where you’re concerned. I get so scared of losing you that I don’t even know who I am sometimes. I shouldn’t have said all those things to you that night.”

  “It’s okay.”

  “It’s not okay. Let me say this. I was wrong. I let my fear make me controlling and mean, just like you said. I want to stop that. I don’t know how, but I’ve got to. I’ve got to let you be who you are. I know that. But you’re going to have to be patient with me, okay?”

  He ran his thumbs along her cheekbones. “Let’s just be patient with each other.”

  She knew he was going to kiss her, but he took his time about it, moving so, so slowly. There was time to savor everything—the smell of smoke and sawdust, the light pressure of his hands on her face, the ends of his hair tickling her forehead. She could feel how his breathing sped up, and still he went slow, his lips just brushing hers.

  And then she couldn’t wait any longer. She slid her hands behind his head and drew him to her.

  Applause burst out from somewhere, but she didn’t care. Tony’s arms gathered her up, holding her tight and turning her away a little, putting his back between her and the crowd, like he could shut out the world. The applause got louder, with cheers and whistles. Now Dalia was laughing, and she could feel Tony laughing, too. He pressed his lips to her forehead.

  “You know, there’s still plenty of work to be done out here,” Alex’s voice called.

  “I’m officially off work,” said Tony. “I’m concussed, remember? I’m supposed to be resting.”

  “Yeah, not sure that counts as resting.”

  Tony led Dalia over to the porch swing, settled into the corner and pulled her down next to him like he used to do.

  “How’s this?” he called.

  “Better,” said Alex.

  Dalia leaned back against his chest. It felt so perfect and right, sitting here with him, with the front hill pasture spread out before them and the steeple of the old Baptist church shining white out of the trees across the highway.

  “I’ll go to Philadelphia if you want,” he said.

  The words seemed to come from nowhere, stirring Dalia out of a reverie about the shape of his hand as it rested against the porch swing’s top board.

  “What?” she asked.

  “You know, to live. If you want. I know we talked about you maybe spending more time down here, and maybe moving here, but if you’d rather go back to the city, I’d be down for that.”

  He sounded brave and sacrificial, like he’d volunteered to go to a remote and desolate foreign land.

  She smiled and nestled deeper against him. “I would love to see you in Philadelphia, with your Texas T-shirts and your boots. There’s a lot there that I want to show you. But when you do come, it’ll be to help me move back home.”

  She felt him straighten up behind her. “Seriously? You’re doing it? You’re coming home to stay?”

  “Yes, I am. My mom wants to move to town, and I...I want to take over La Escarpa.”

  “Wow. Wow! I just... Wow. That’s great news. You, uh, you need a good hired man?”

  “Why? You know any?”

  “Oh, yeah. I know this one guy, he can call a horse out of a pasture and ride him bareback and get all the cattle to safety when the ranch is on fire. He can ride a bull, too, but he’s retired from that. Well...semiretired. He doesn’t have great peripheral vision or depth perception, but he knows this ranch real well, and he’s got outrageous carpentry skills.”

  “Yeah? Sounds like I ought to bring that guy in for an interview.”

  “He’s ready to start whenever you say.”

  She draped her arm over his along the back of the swing and laced their fingers together.

  “Well, then you can tell him he’s hired.”

  EPILOGUE

  One and a half years later...

  TONY CLOSED THE grill and breathed deep of the meaty, smoky wave of scent that came wafting out. Just one minute more, and the two-inch rib eyes from La Escarpa Brahmas would be done to perfection.

  He shut his eyes and stood still, listening. An insect was making a steady tick-tick-tick, and a woodpecker added a rat-tat-tat once in a while. The gobble of a wild turkey floated up from somewhere in the back hill pasture.

  He moved the steaks to the platter and tented them with foil, added the potatoes and asparagus in their foil packets from the warming rack and covered the whole thing with a weighted mesh dome in case the barn cats made a dash for it while his back was turned. Calypso was already on high alert, rubbing his ankles like crazy. She was always superfriendly whenever he grilled.

  He heard Dalia coming from a long way off, making plenty of noise so she wouldn’t startle him. It was a genius system.

  He turned his head a little and nodded so she’d know he’d heard her. She came the rest of the way quietly, slipping her arms around him from behind and laying her head against his back.

  He covered her arms with his hands. “Hey, you.”

  “Hey, yourself. Something smells amazing. Are the steaks r
eady?”

  “They’re resting. We’ll give ’em a few minutes more. How’s the flan?”

  “Chilled and ready to serve. You know, I love watching you grill. You’re so artistic about it, the way you move around and squint at the meat and touch it with your finger and dab at it with the tongs. You look like a painter or a sculptor or something.”

  “I am an artist, aren’t I?”

  “Mmm-hmm. And a work of art yourself.”

  “Oh, yeah? Well, just think how good I’d look if I had my nice grill setup in between the two wings of the house, with the flagstones and the firepit and the stone benches and the grapevine trellis overhead. I haven’t forgotten that, you know.”

  “Oh, I know. And I’m sure it’ll look marvelous. But I think it’s already pretty nice the way it is. And anyway, the Reyeses have enough going on without starting a new project, besides being too cash poor at present to buy the materials.”

  He grinned. “The Reyeses. That’s us. You and me.”

  “I know it is.”

  They carried the food to the outdoor table, already set with turquoise plates and a glass bowl filled with clusters of little pink roses from the antique rosebush.

  He took her hand. “Happy anniversary, Mrs. Reyes.”

  * * *

  TONY HALF SAT, half lay in his Adirondack chair, long legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles, a cushion stuffed behind his head. One hand lightly caressed Dalia’s arm; the other rested on his perfectly flat abs. Beyond them, the house’s shadow crept past the yard fence into the pasture.

  “Place looks pretty good, huh?” he asked.

  “Sure does,” she said. She liked hearing the pride of possession in his voice.

  “It’s nice how it all came full circle, isn’t it?”

  “How what came full circle?”

  “This place. We’re both of us descended from Alejandro Ramirez, and now here we are, reuniting the different branches of the family and all. It’s kinda poetic.”

  “Antonio Reyes. Are you saying you married me for my property?”

  “No way! I married you for your looks. I’d have followed you to Philadelphia if that’s what it took, and you know it. But I’m glad things worked out the way they did. I never thought I’d end up a rancher, but it sure feels right.”

  “Do you miss living in town, though? The gym, the bar, Trivia Thursday, all that?”

  He turned his sleepy-eyed face toward her and smiled. “Nah. I thought I might a little, all the noise and activity. But there’s lots going on in the country, if you know to look for it. And as far as Trivia Thursday goes, it’s not like I’d be playing anyhow, with my team all busted up. Alex doesn’t have time for trivia anymore, or money for beer.”

  Alex and Tony’s grandmother had died last spring, and almost overnight, their grandfather went from proud self-sufficiency to needing help with almost every aspect of ranch work and personal business. It would’ve been nice if Carlos had stepped up to help, but he went into a tailspin of gambling, hard living and brushes with the law that made everything worse. Tony helped all he could, but by then he was deep in wedding prep, besides laying down new fencing and putting up new outbuildings at La Escarpa, and most of the burden fell on Alex. After finishing their current contracts, the brothers agreed it’d be best to lay off new building-for-hire projects until things calmed down.

  So Reyes Boys Construction was shelved for now. Alex kept working for Manny doing auto and tractor repair and got a second job at Architectural Treasures.

  Then in October, their grandfather died, and once the dust was settled and the will was read, it turned out that in spite of everything he’d promised for years, in spite of basic decency and common sense, their grandfather had left everything, the ranch and the money, to their dad. It was a hard blow, especially to Alex. Right away he contested the will, which kept things tied up so Carlos couldn’t take immediate possession and sell the place, but also meant the cattle still had to be looked after, which meant more work for Alex.

  “Any news with the probate?” Dalia asked.

  “Nope. Claudia doesn’t seem real hopeful. Says it’s more a stalling tactic than anything. The longer things drag out, the more chance there is for Dad to do the right thing and cut Alex in—or at least sell him the house and home pasture.”

  “No way could Alex afford that.”

  “I know, but he won’t listen. He’s all obsessed with earning and saving money now. The only thing he does for fun is that historical reenactor group, which sounds exhausting, like another job. If he met a good woman he might wise up and get his priorities straight, but how could we possibly arrange that?”

  She gave him a sidelong glance.

  “What are you plotting, Tony? You’ve got that crafty look on your face. Are you thinking of matchmaking for your brother?”

  “Who, me? I would never—”

  “Yes, you would.”

  “Okay, yeah, I would. It’s just, I was thinking, you know, now that your sister’s back in the area...”

  Dalia sat bolt upright. “Oh, no. No no no no no.”

  “What? Why no? I thought they looked real good together at the wedding.”

  “That is no basis for a relationship. Eliana’s all wrong for Alex. Seriously, Tony, do not try this.”

  “Well, okay. I won’t if you really don’t want me to. But I thought it’d be nice. My brother, your sister.”

  “Are you kidding? That’s the worst thing about it. It’s bad enough she’s cycled through so many romantic relationships in her life, from high school on. Her exes are everywhere. Do you have any idea how many men I have to avoid at the grocery store? It’s a minefield. But Alex? I can’t avoid him, he’s family. If Eliana broke Alex’s heart—well, it would break my heart, that’s all.”

  “Aw, that’s sweet. But maybe she wouldn’t break his heart. She’s got to settle down sometime.”

  “Does she? Because I sure don’t see any signs.”

  “Well, you gotta admit, she did a good job as maid of honor.”

  That was true. Dalia would’ve rather had Lauren—not that Lauren was such a practical person, either. But if Lauren was an attendant, she couldn’t take pictures. And there really wasn’t anyone else Dalia could ask.

  “She did. She really rose to the occasion. I never knew she had it in her. When she gave that beautiful toast at the reception, I actually thought she’d grown up at last. But then that gaggle of adoring guys started swarming her, and it was back to business as usual. And now she’s living just an hour away? I’m not sure how I’ll like that.”

  “Don’t write her off. I think she’ll surprise you yet.”

  She smiled at him. “You’re probably right.”

  She started stacking their dishes to take to the kitchen, but he took her hand and pulled her toward him. “Why don’t you come over here for a while and share my chair? The dishes can wait.”

  He made room for her, and she slid into the chair alongside him. He still had scratches on his arms from the mesquite stump he’d taken out of the Angoras’ pasture; she traced them with her fingertips.

  Then she heard what sounded like a vehicle coming down their driveway.

  “Who’s coming? Are you expecting someone?”

  Tony shot out of the chair like a clay pigeon from a target launcher. “It’s nobody! I mean, it’s just Alex.”

  “You invited your brother out for our first wedding anniversary?”

  “No. He won’t be here long. Don’t look at him! And don’t take the dishes to the kitchen yet. I’ll handle Alex. You just sit back down and don’t move. And close your eyes.”

  “Close my eyes? How long is this going to take?”

  “Not long. Just do it, okay? Please.”

  “Oh, all right. I’m not about to say no to a good excuse to put my feet up and res
t awhile, after the year we’ve had.”

  It really had been one thing after another, and for more like a year and a half—first the kitchen rebuild at La Escarpa, then updating the little house in town for Dalia’s mom to move into, then hurry, hurry, hurry to cull through a household’s worth of stuff accumulated by seven generations of the same family living in the same house. Then off to Philadelphia to clear out her apartment and tie up loose ends, and back to Texas again to move into the house.

  A visit to Ray and Syndra’s place to see their herd and setup and pick their brains was followed by a cattle sale, right in the thick of wedding planning. Then the wedding itself, one gorgeous day in May, and a weekend honeymoon on the River Walk. Back home, they hit the ground running—prepping for the goats, buying breeding stock, building the shear shed and the kidding shed, making hay. Then came the firefighter fundraiser, and suddenly the Angoras’ coats were a mass of long spiral curls, ready for shearing—the first shearing at La Escarpa in decades, and Dalia’s first ever. No sooner were the shearers paid and the fleeces bagged, labeled and sent off to the mill than a breakneck holiday season commenced, followed by another shearing and their first kidding season.

  She kept her eyes shut, but she could hear the Angoras chuckling and bleating to each other in their enclosure to the south, beyond the orchard and chicken yard. The babies were all weaned now, and the herd’s coats were fluffing up again. She and Tony finally had a chance to catch their breath, but it wouldn’t last long.

  “Okay. I’m back.”

  She could hear the hushed excitement in his voice and the sound of Alex’s truck engine fading away. She opened her eyes.

  Tony stood just off the back corner of the house. Sitting beside him was a black-and-white, midsize dog with an alert, eager, intelligent face, perked ears and feathered front legs.