A Piece of Texas Trilogy Read online

She had the most irresistible urge to bury her face against his chest and sob. To keep herself from giving into it, she turned for the refrigerator. “I appreciate what you did for him. Taking him back to school and making him tell the principal what he’d done.”

  “Facing the music is always hard. Figured he might need a little encouragement.”

  She pulled a pitcher of lemonade from the refrigerator, her smile wistful as she closed the door. “Encouragement is something he’s short on right now.”

  “He has you,” he reminded her.

  Shaking her head, she took two glasses from the cabinet. “I’m not enough. I can’t reach him any more. He needs is his father.” Feeling the tears rising again, she firmed her lips and focused her attention on filling the glasses. Turning, she forced a smile and offered one to Sam. “How about some lemonade?”

  He accepted the glass. “Thanks.”

  She gestured toward the sunroom. “Let’s sit out there.”

  She led the way, with Sam following, and settled in a wicker chair.

  He took the chair next to hers.

  “Craig tells me that you and the principal have an agreement to keep Patrice on a need-to-know basis only.”

  She nodded. “Patrice is…fragile. I handle whatever problems arise at school to save her the additional stress.”

  “Do you mind if I ask you a question?”

  She stole a glance his way. “That depends on the question.”

  “Why do you avoid talking about your brother?”

  Blanching, she looked away, not wanting to share her reasons. “I’d think that would be obvious.”

  “If you mean grief, that I can understand. It’s hard losing someone you love. But I think it’s more than just grief.”

  Pursing her lips, she swept a drop of condensation impatiently from her glass. “You can think whatever you like.”

  “Leah?”

  When she refused to look at him, he laid a hand over hers.

  “Leah, look at me.”

  Though she’d have preferred to look anywhere other than at him, she met his gaze. The compassion she found in his eyes nearly brought her to her knees.

  “You’re mad, aren’t you?” he said quietly.

  She felt the sting of tears and blinked them back. “Why would I be mad at you?” she asked, purposely misunderstanding his question.

  “Not me. Your brother.”

  The tears surged higher, a wall of emotion that blocked any hope she might have had of denying his assumption a second time.

  Before she realized his intention, he had tugged her from her chair and onto his lap.

  “Ah, Leah,” he said miserably. He tucked her head beneath his chin and pressed a kiss on top of her head. “I’m not Craig or Patrice. You don’t have to keep up a brave front for me. I won’t think any less of you for admitting that you’re angry with Kevin for dying.”

  She gulped but couldn’t hold back the emotion that choked her. She turned her face against his neck. “He didn’t have to die,” she sobbed miserably. “He could’ve stayed home with his family. With me.”

  He stroked a hand over her hair. “Soldiers aren’t given a choice,” he reminded her. “They go where they’re sent, where their country needs them.”

  She shook her head. “He never should have enlisted. He was barely eighteen. Too young to know what he was doing or what he wanted to do with his life. He only did it because of Mom.”

  “Your mother asked him to enlist?” he asked in confusion.

  “No. He did it to get her attention. Maybe to spite her. I don’t know.” She squeezed her eyes shut, remembering the hours she’d spent pleading with him not to join the Army. “I begged him not to do it, told him that it wouldn’t make any difference, that Mom was never going to change no matter what either of us did. But he wouldn’t listen. It was like he needed to prove something. Or maybe get even with her for ignoring him.”

  Hitching a breath, she pressed a hand against her lips and shook her head. “I don’t know. But no matter how much I screamed and begged, I couldn’t get through to him. And Mom—she was oblivious. Didn’t say a word to him. Just kept on with her stupid research, as if Kevin wasn’t making the biggest mistake of his life.”

  “I take it you’ve always been the one in charge, looking out for your mother and brother.”

  She swiped at her cheeks. “Somebody had to, and Mom couldn’t or wouldn’t.”

  “And now you’re looking out for Craig and Patrice.”

  She lifted her head, shot a hand beneath her nose. “I have to. Kevin’s not here to take care of them.”

  “And who takes care of Leah?” he asked softly.

  She stared, then turned her face away, unable to meet his gaze.

  He placed a hand on her cheek and turned her face back to his. “Who?” he prodded.

  She stared, her lip quivering, thinking of all the times she’d wanted someone to lean on, someone to help carry the burden for a while. She’d hoped, prayed, that Louis would be that someone. Instead he’d ridiculed her concern for her family, refused to spend any holidays in their company and done everything he could to distance her from them.

  Jutting her chin, she shoved his hand away. “I don’t need anyone to take care of me. I can take care of myself.”

  “Everybody needs somebody.”

  She pushed from his lap. “Well, I don’t. And if you think my sleeping with you gives you the right to interfere in my life, you’re wrong.”

  Five

  Sam stood with a shoulder braced against the doorjamb of the apartment, his arms folded across his chest, looking up at the night sky. To say he was frustrated would be the understatement of the year. He’d thought he’d be sharing Leah’s bed again tonight, but the conversation they’d had in the sunroom had nixed any chance of that happening.

  But sex wasn’t the cause of his frustration. Not solely, anyway. He was worried about Leah. He was afraid if somebody didn’t do something, and soon, she was going to crumple beneath the weight of the family responsibilities she carried. Granted, her sense of duty to Craig and Patrice was admirable, but Sam was a firm believer in the teach-a-person-to-fish approach to dealing with problems. In his opinion, as long as Leah continued to take care of Craig and Patrice, they would never step up to the plate and assume responsibility for their own emotional and physical needs. They’d continue to drain Leah until she had nothing left to give them.

  He wanted to help her. If nothing else, to offer her some much-needed support. But every time he tried, the damn fool woman stiff-armed him, insisting she could take care of herself, just as she had that afternoon.

  He supposed he could understand her obstinance. She’d been taking care of herself and those around her so long it had probably become a habit, one she couldn’t break.

  But he was convinced there was something more behind her stubborn refusal to accept help from anyone…and he had a sneaky suspicion it stemmed from her mother’s suicide. He remembered when she’d told him about her mother’s obsession with finding her father, Leah saying he probably thought her mother was crazy, the same as everyone else in town. Reason enough for her to refuse offers of help from outsiders, as she wouldn’t want to subject her family to more public scorn.

  But it wasn’t reason enough to refuse Sam’s.

  In his mind, her refusal represented a lack of trust. And that irritated the hell out of him, as trust was a trait he valued and strived hard to earn.

  He’d never given her any reason to distrust him, he told himself. He had a key to her house, yet he’d never once taken advantage of that privilege. He bought his own groceries and what other necessities he needed and was careful to always replace what items of hers he used. He even helped out around the house, emptying the dishwasher when it needed it, sweeping the kitchen floor the few times he’d tracked dirt inside. And he’d started cleaning the pool, figuring it was the least he could do, since she allowed him to use it. He even helped her keep an eye on Craig.


  You didn’t tell her you were in the Army.

  He flinched at his conscience’s prodding, then squared his shoulders. And for good reason, he thought defensively. Leah blamed the Army for the loss of her father and brother. She’d made it clear from the get-go that she wanted nothing to do with anyone associated with the military. If he’d told her he currently served with Special Forces, he would’ve lost any chance he had of getting the information he’d promised Mack.

  Leading her to believe you were a mechanic who’d come to apply for the job of restoring the car is the same as lying, which is reason enough to earn her distrust.

  It’s not the same, he argued stubbornly. He’d never out-and-out lied to her.

  He just hadn’t given her the whole truth.

  He rolled his shoulders, trying to shake free from the guilt his conscience was piling on him, but it stuck like glue, refusing to budge.

  With a resigned sigh, he glanced toward Leah’s darkened bedroom window and wondered if she was having trouble sleeping, too. He could imagine her there, tossing and turning, worrying about Craig, grieving for her brother. He wanted to go to her, share her burden, offer what comfort he could, but knew he’d only alienate her more if he did.

  Maybe he ought to come clean, he told himself. Tell her the truth about who he was and why he was at her house. She’d be madder than a hornet, there was no question about that. But surely after she’d cooled down she’d understand, perhaps even admire his determination to honor his promise to Mack, sympathize with his need to provide his friend’s wife with another piece of the puzzle to her father’s life. Once she realized the honorableness of his mission, she’d give him the piece of paper he wanted and he could be on his way, putting her and her family’s problems behind him.

  His gaze fixed on her window, he realized that leaving was no longer an option. He couldn’t walk away from Leah when he knew how badly she needed help. Not only in restoring her brother’s car but with her nephew, too. The boy was headed for trouble, a place Sam was all too familiar with. What the kid needed was guidance, a firm hand, the influence only a man could provide a young, impressionable boy quickly approaching adulthood.

  And Leah needed Sam. She’d never admit it, might not even be aware of the lack in her life. But he was. She was haunted by her father’s and brother’s deaths, possibly even her mother’s, and had devoted her life to protecting her nephew and sister-in-law from any more hurt.

  She deserved a life of her own, one free of obligation and responsibility to others. But she’d never know any true peace, any happiness, until she stopped avoiding her past and dealt with it once and for all.

  And when she did that, she was going to need someone to lean on, someone to comfort her, lend her strength.

  And Sam intended to be that someone.

  The overhead light snapped on, yanking Leah bolt upright in bed.

  Sam stood in the doorway, his hand on the switch.

  “What are you doing?” she cried.

  He flipped off the light and started across the room. “Seeing if you were awake.”

  He stopped beside the bed, and though it was dark, his movements were clear enough for her to know he was stripping off his sweatpants.

  “Just because I slept with you once,” she said angrily, “doesn’t give you the right to march into my bedroom anytime you want.”

  “I’m not here for sex.”

  She blinked, taken aback, then set her jaw. “Then why are you here?”

  He lifted the sheet and slid into bed beside her. “Couldn’t sleep. You really should get a new mattress for the apartment.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with that mattress!” she cried indignantly.

  “For Fred Flintstone, maybe. It’s like lying on a slab of stone.”

  “You never complained before.”

  He tugged her down to lie beside him and settled his head next to hers on the pillow. “Wasn’t aware of the difference until I slept in yours.”

  “Sam,” she warned when he hooked an arm over her waist and cuddled close.

  “Shh.” He closed his eyes. “You need to get some sleep. We both do.”

  Leah wanted to argue, but he began to stroke his hand up and down her back, distracting her. She waited, convinced that any second he’d give up the ruse and attempt to seduce her and she could kick him out of her room for the liar he was.

  But with each slow glide of his hand more and more of the tension melted from her back and her eyelids grew heavy. Heavier still.

  She slept, lulled by the rhythmic sound of Sam’s breathing.

  Leah opened her eyes, startled awake by the sound of a car on the drive. It took her a moment to associate the unusual warmth at her back and the weight that pinned her legs with Sam. She started to close her eyes and snuggle back against the warmth but flipped them wide when she heard a car door open and slam.

  Throwing back the covers, she ran to the window and lifted a slat to peek through the blinds.

  “Oh, no!” Whirling, she cried, “You’ve got to get out of here!”

  Sam pulled the pillow over his head. “It’s Saturday,” he mumbled. “Come back to bed.”

  She snatched the pillow from his head. “Patrice just dropped Craig off. You’ve got to get out of here.”

  He blinked up at her, his hair tousled from sleep. “Why?”

  “He can’t find us in bed together! What would he think?”

  “That we were tired?” he asked hopefully.

  She flattened her lips. “Sa-am…”

  He knew by the warning she placed in the two-syllable pronunciation of his name that she wasn’t making the distinction because she was aroused. He also knew he wasn’t getting any more sleep.

  “Okay, okay,” he grumbled as he rolled from the bed. He scooped his sweatpants from the floor and tugged them on as he headed for the door. “I’ll go downstairs and intercept him.”

  “Dressed like that?” she cried. “You can’t! He’ll know the minute he sees you that you spent the night.” She worried her thumbnail, trying to think of a plausible explanation. “Tell him I saw a mouse. Yeah, a mouse,” she said, liking the idea. “And I called you to come and catch it for me.”

  He looked down his nose at her. “Do you really think he’s going to fall for a cock-and-bull story like that?”

  She gave him a push. “He will if you make it sound convincing.”

  Shaking his head, he jogged down the stairs, leaving her to dress. When he entered the kitchen, Craig was pouring cereal into a bowl.

  “Hey, Craig,” he said. “I didn’t know you were coming over today.”

  Craig looked up. He glanced in the direction Sam had appeared, then back at Sam. “What are you doing here?” he asked suspiciously.

  Rolling his eyes, Sam crossed to the refrigerator and pulled out a jug of orange juice. “Your aunt saw a mouse. Called me, all hysterical, begging me to come and catch it for her.”

  Craig’s expression remained dubious. “So where’s the mouse?”

  Sam snorted as he poured orange juice into a glass. “You ever known a person who caught a mouse with his bare hands?”

  Craig smothered a laugh. “No.”

  “Me either,” Sam replied and took a swig of juice. Backhanding the moisture from his mouth, he dragged out a chair and swung it around, straddling it as he sat opposite Craig at the table. “Women. Nothing but a bunch of sissies. Guess this means I’ll be making a run to the store for a mousetrap.”

  “Yeah. Looks like it.”

  “Want to go with me?”

  “I guess.”

  Leah breezed into the kitchen wearing an overbright smile and a T-shirt turned wrong-side out. “Morning, Craig. I suppose Sam told you about the mouse?”

  He glanced up, then ducked his head and scooped up a spoonful of cereal. “Yeah. He told me.”

  Sam ducked his head, too, deciding it might not be the best time to tell Leah about her wardrobe blunder.

  Obli
vious to their amusement—or her state of dress—Leah pulled a bowl from the cabinet. “I didn’t know you were planning on coming over today,” she said to Craig.

  “Wasn’t. Mom’s having one of her…spells.”

  Leah’s face crumpled. “Oh, honey,” she said sympathetically and draped an arm around her nephew’s shoulders. “I’m so sorry.”

  Craig shrugged. “No big deal. I’ll just hang out here till she settles down.”

  Nodding, Leah seated herself at the table and reached for the cereal box. “Maybe you and Sam can work on the car,” she suggested hopefully.

  Craig peeked at Sam from beneath his mass of bangs. “Maybe,” he said, hiding a smile. “But we gotta buy a mousetrap, first. Right, Sam?”

  Craig stood beside Sam, holding the wing nut, while Sam fitted the cover back over the carburetor.

  “You spent the night with Aunt Leah, didn’t you?”

  The question came out of nowhere and had Sam fumbling the cover. He straightened slowly and pulled off his ball cap to drag an arm across the sweat on his brow. “Yeah, I did,” he admitted reluctantly.

  “So why did y’all make up that crazy story about the mouse?”

  Sam puffed his cheeks and blew out a breath, knowing he was treading on thin ice. Slinging an arm around Craig’s shoulders, he guided him toward a bench beneath a tree. “Because your aunt didn’t want to give you the wrong impression.”

  Craig flopped down on the bench and peered up at Sam. “What? That she sleeps around?”

  Since Sam couldn’t see Craig’s eyes, he didn’t know whether the kid was being serious or a wiseass. Frustrated, he shot a hand through the boy’s hair and slapped his ball cap over the top of his head.

  Craig threw up his hands. “Hey!” he cried, trying to duck. “What are you doing?”

  Sam tugged the cap down, pinning the boy’s hair beneath it, then stooped and put his face level with Craig’s. “Getting your hair out of your eyes,” he informed him. “That’s what. When I talk to a person, I want to see his eyes.”

  Craig spun the cap around, placing the bill in the back. “What’s the big deal about seeing a person’s eyes?” he grumbled.