Lone Star Rising

The heat pattern, the trailers of gasoline on concrete, the pour patterns. It all added up to one thing: arson.

It seemed abrupt to drop a bomb like that on a pregnant woman while they were just sitting here, having tea at her quaint little table. Just the two of them, alone. That’s what really gave him the willies. Being alone with her, pregnant or not, gave rise to all kinds of conflicting emotions in him.

She raised her cup and sipped cautiously, noticing that he was watching her, eyeing him over the rim. She had probably already figured out he hadn’t come to the house on a social call last night, and she was undoubtedly waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“How are you feeling?” he asked. Was that too personal a thing to say to a pregnant woman?

“Fine. This is my fourth, after all. There are no surprises.”

That hit him with a jolt. Here he had been entertaining all these idealistic, quasi-romantic memories about the perky redheaded Robbie McBride last night, when the reality was she was pregnant Robbie Tellchick, experienced mother of three.

He sipped his tea. “This stuff’s pretty good.” He took another sip, stalling, angling for something to say. “So. How’s your new job working out?” He’d been watching her at the café since she started waitressing there. He missed a few days when he’d worked an extra 24-hour shift and then he’d had a hardwood floor to lay for a woman over in Wildhorse. The job had taken him two solid days because the woman, a pretty-enough blonde, kept coming around to chatter. He had wondered if the other guys had tipped Robbie adequately in his absence.

“Fine. Everybody there is so nice to me. The whole town’s nice to me, though I suppose there are some folks that think I’m crazy for going to work as a waitress and moving into this old rattletrap. They probably wonder why I don’t take my boys out to my parents’ farm and stay out there like my mother wants me to.”

“Your mother and dad live out by the river, too, right?”

“Yes.”

“That’s a really nice farm out there.”

“Not to me.”

Zack gave her a quizzical look which she didn’t answer. “Still,” he offered sensibly, “that might have been easier on you.” Though a selfish part of him was glad to have her right here in town where he had some hope of seeing her more often. It would be pretty hard to come up with excuses to drive all the way out to the McBride farm on a regular basis, and he had already taken to eating breakfast at the Hungry Aggie as often as possible. Lunch, too. Even dinner if she was doing that shift. Why not? Who was to question the eating habits of a bachelor firefighter?

He was making a regular pest of himself, probably, being too obvious about laying down those huge tips under the saltshaker. Occasionally he’d gotten that pretty smile of hers to emerge. “Why did you move into town, if I may ask? That’s a pretty little farm you’ve got out there, too.” Zack knew the property well. He’d coveted it, truth be told.

“It’s a pretty little place that was falling down around my ears.” She sighed heavily, and Zack didn’t like the sound of it. “It’s a long story. In any case I couldn’t keep the farm up by myself, and there were…ugly circumstances that made it untenable to go live at my mother’s house.”

“Ugly? Like what?” He downed the remainder of his tea, and she filled his cup right away. It seemed like she was enjoying this little break, maybe even his company, he hoped.

“I don’t want to bore a man like you with the McBride family’s dramas.”

A man like him? What did that mean? “I’m interested.” He wanted to add, “in anything having to do with you,” but thought better of it. He smiled at her. Just a couple of minutes more of this, Lord. Please. Just a little more normal conversation.

“Well, you knew my sister just got married?”

“Right. I saw the pictures in the paper. To Justin Kilgore, the congressman’s son, right?”

“Um. Well, she and Justin were…sweethearts as teenagers. And my mother came between them years ago. She lied to them.”

“Oh. That is kind of heavy.”

“Kind of, yes. I still haven’t forgiven my mother for what she did. There’s a lot more to it, but I’m not sure my sister would want me to share the details.”

“I understand. Where is your sister these days, by the way?” Last night Zack had decided that having the sister around when he dropped his bomb might not be a bad idea. Robbie was so vulnerable right now. Markie McBride had seemed really levelheaded the few times Zack had talked to her, and she seemed genuinely concerned about helping Robbie.

“She’s on her honeymoon in Aruba, but she’ll be back in a couple of weeks. She promised to help me get this place in order when she gets home.” The heavy sigh came again. “I have to admit I could sure use the help.”

“I’d be glad to offer mine.” He wondered if he could get the fire marshal to keep his findings away from the media for a little while longer. He wondered if the bad news had to go in the papers at all, in fact. It was a common thing. Losers torched their own worthless barns and outbuildings all the time, then called the fire department when they were ready to put out the fire. He looked Robbie up and down, not liking the look of those shadows under her eyes. How could he make this easier for her? “I mean it. I’ll be glad to help. I thought about talking to your landlord for you, too. He needs to do some repairs around here.”

“Oh, I couldn’t ask you to do that,” she said.

“I don’t mind. Mestor’s not somebody you should have to even be in the same room with, much less confront.”

“Well, you shouldn’t have to confront him, either.”

Zack smiled. “Oh, but I like to. We’ve had words before. It makes my day. By the way, I meant to check when I was here last night. Has he got smoke detectors installed here?”

Robbie slapped her forehead. “Oh, man. Here I am fretting about mercury in tuna, and I didn’t even think of that.”

“We keep some at the fire station. I’ll bring a couple over right away. And we can get started on those boxes.”

“I’ll take the smoke detectors. But as for the rest of this mess…” Her eyes traveled to a cluster of half-unpacked boxes in the corner. “I just couldn’t ask you to use your time off helping me unpack. I’m sure you’ve got better things to do. Besides, I never knew of a man who could get stuff organized the way women want it, anyway. My sister and I are pretty good at this kind of thing when the two of us get going. We learned it from our mother, who’s so organized it’s scary. I’ll just wait ’til Markie gets back.”

He nodded and smiled. “Whatever makes you the most comfortable.”

Waiting for the sister, both of them. Too bad she was all the way down in Aruba. With Robbie Tell chick working over at the Hungry Aggie, it would be tough to protect her from rumors for long. Still, Zack figured he had to try. He swallowed the last of his tea. “Well, I’d better get going. I don’t want to tire you out. I imagine you want to put your feet up before those boys come home from school.”

“Thank you, again.” She pushed up from the table. He was glad she was sensible enough not to argue about needing her rest. She walked him to the front door. When they got there, she lingered, clutching the knob. “Listen, Zack,” she said. “I’m sorry. I mean, I really wish I could pay you, but—”

Before he could think about it, he clasped a palm around her arm to stop her. “No.” The instant he touched her he knew the feel of her would haunt him. Her skin felt like warm silk. An unbidden vision—running his hands all over her body—assailed him. He dropped his hand and cleared his throat. “Like I told you. I wanted to help.”

“Well, I was going to say I’d love to cook dinner for you sometime. I mean, would you want to maybe come over and have spaghetti with me and the boys sometime?”

“Thank you, but I couldn’t impose.” He wasn’t about to eat this woman’s food when she was barely getting by.

She gave him a little wincing frown. “Zack…you don’t feel…you’re not…” She seemed to be struggling to find the right words. “This isn’t because you’re feeling guilty about what happened to Danny or something?”

Guilt? Because he’d failed to save a man with three kids and another on the way? Because he’d just touched that man’s wife and immediately wanted to do more than touch—a whole lot more? Because he was lusting after a pregnant woman, for crying out loud? Guilt? Guilt was hardly a strong enough word. All of a sudden he found he couldn’t look in her eyes.

Wind gusted into the open doorway and thunder rumbled across the cloudy sky as his eyes fixed on the scarred wood floor of her entry hall, then on the stairs behind her, then traveled up searching, scanning aimlessly. One of the banisters was missing. Not safe. He’d be sure to come back to fix it. He couldn’t answer her question because the truth was, yes, a part of him had felt more than guilt, a gnawing helpless frustration, over his failed attempt to save Danny Tellchick’s life. But that should have changed now, in light of the findings of the fire marshal and medical examiner. That wasn’t why he wanted to help her.

His motives were far less pure, some might say. I’m hopelessly attracted to you, his heart admitted when his eyes finally came back down to meet with hers. Always have been. But under the circumstances, he sure couldn’t tell the woman that, now could he?

“I was a fatherless boy myself, once,” he allowed quietly. It was true, though if he were honest, he’d have to admit that that had little to do with his reasons for helping out these boys, either. “I just want to do whatever I can to make your lives easier right now.”

She smiled, and the sincerity and innocence of it went right through him. “That’s really decent of you. I just…I just wanted to be sure…you know. Well…”

“I’d better get going.” He stepped onto the porch.

“Yes. I’ll let you go before it starts pouring.” The heavy oak door creaked on its hinges as she made to close it.

He flattened a palm on the door to stop it. “Will you be working at the restaurant tomorrow?” he asked.

She nodded. “Bright and early on the breakfast shift.”

“Good.” He smiled. “I’ll see you then.”