Lone Wolf

She glanced at the menu and decided on some light fare. She’d just completed a meeting with the painting contractor, but she had other meetings after lunch. This wasn’t a leisurely day.

“Hello, Jenny.”

Daisy arrived at the table, pen and pad in hand. The waitress was a stunning bleached blonde, with a dark complexion and a curvaceous athletic build. But in spite of her beauty, Jenny sensed something sad about her. There was pain in her eyes, deep and unsettling, a look Jenny often recognized in the mirror.

Was Daisy Parker running away from her past, too? Hiding the way Jenny was? Keeping secrets that haunted her at night?

Daisy always had a ready smile, but that didn’t mean a thing. She still seemed nervous somehow, preoccupied and fearful.

“What can I get you today?” Daisy asked.

“The mixed greens and a glass of raspberry iced tea.”

“What kind of dressing?”

“The house will be fine.”

Why had Daisy lightened her hair? she wondered. For the same reason she herself did? Or was Daisy just a brunette who wondered if blondes really did have more fun?

Maybe it was silly to worry about Daisy, but Jenny couldn’t help it. Deep down, she wanted to befriend the woman, get close to her, ask if she needed help. But how could Jenny aid someone else? Her own emotions were still a mess. She barely had the strength to confront her own fears, let alone tackle Daisy’s problems.

The waitress sent Jenny one of those carefully controlled smiles and darted off with her order.

A short time later Jenny’s meal arrived. As she ate, the café bustled around her, members of the country club coming and going.

Just as she finished her salad, she spotted Archy Wainwright across the room heading her way. She reached for her tea and acknowledged his gaze.

Archy was a business associate, someone she respected and admired. But discovering that he was Hawk’s father put an odd spin on seeing him.

“Well, hello, Jenny,” the older man said when he reached her table. “May I?”

“Yes.” She gestured for him to join her and scanned his features with newfound interest, looking for a likeness to Hawk. She couldn’t find an overwhelming resemblance, but she had to admit that Hawk had Archy’s powerful stature and deep, gruff voice.

“I hear you’ve been doing an outstanding job,” he said. “The board is pleased with your work. And your dedication. You’ve put in some long hours.”

“Thank you. I enjoy what I do. And the overtime keeps me busy.”

“Glad to hear it.” He gestured to Daisy, and the waitress came right over. “I’d like a cup of coffee, darlin’, and bring Jenny a piece of that tasty apple pie.”

“Thanks, but—” Jenny tried to protest, but Archy cut her off, giving Daisy more instructions.

“Don’t mind her, just bring the pie. And be sure to put everything, including that rabbit food she ate for lunch, on my tab.”

Daisy obeyed his command. Within minutes Jenny had a fresh-baked dessert sitting in front of her.

“It’s delicious,” she said after she’d taken a bite.

“Nothing beats a slice of warm apple pie. Now tell me, Jenny, have you made some friends in Mission Creek? Working overtime is fine, but socializing is important, too.”

“I…” She stalled to take a much-needed breath. “I had dinner with a neighbor last night.” With your son, she added silently.

“That’s good. Now the reason I stopped by was to let you know the club is hosting a spring ball, and you’ll be receiving an invitation.” He lifted his coffee, his eyes on hers. “I can arrange an escort for you, if you’d like. Unless, of course, you’ve already made the acquaintance of an appropriate young man.”

Momentarily stunned, she stuck her fork into the pie, trying to gather her wits. A spring ball? An appropriate young man?

Like Hawk?

Jenny tried not to panic. No, not like Hawk. She couldn’t ask him to a ball his father had invited her to. Nor could she dance with him. She was barely handling the first few stages of friendship.

“This would be good business,” Archy said, sensing her apprehension. “You’ll rub elbows with all the right people.”

People who might hire her for future projects, she realized. Yes, it was good business, but she couldn’t do it.

“It’s still a month away,” he added. “So you’ve got time to buy a fancy dress and go to the beauty parlor or whatever it is you women do to make men fall at your feet.”

She managed a weak smile. “I’m flattered by the invitation, but I’m not much for parties.”

Archy shook his head. “You’re too pretty to be a wallflower.”

And she was too edgy to date. “I’m still getting settled in. New town. New people. I’m just not ready for a ball.”

“All right. But if you change your mind, the offer still stands.”

The pie hit her stomach like a rock. She had the feeling Archy wasn’t going to let this lie. He would continue prompting her for the next few weeks.

Maybe he thought it was his duty to bring her out of her shell, to introduce her to Texas society.

The older man had taken her under his wing since the day she’d arrived on the job, guiding her in a paternal fashion.

And she had been touched by his kindness, by the softness she saw in his eyes.

But things seemed complicated, now that she’d met his illegitimate son.

Jenny worked another long day. When she pulled into her driveway, dusk had fallen.

She sat in her car for a moment, then decided she wouldn’t be able to relax until she told Hawk about her association with his father.

Although she wasn’t certain that their budding friendship could take the strain, she knew it was the right thing to do.

She’d promised to form her own opinions of Hawk, not judge him on the basis of hearsay, and he owed her a similar courtesy. She’d met Archy before she even knew Hawk existed. She wasn’t betraying one for the other.

Jenny knocked on his door, expecting to hear the puppy bark. But when Hawk answered her summons, wearing nothing but a pair of jeans, she lost her composure.

His hair, long and damp, was combed away from his face, making the sharp talons in his ears stand out even more. His chest, broad and bare, exposed a knee-weakening display of muscle. She didn’t dare peek at his stomach.

“Jenny,” he said. “You look great.”

“Thank you.” She smoothed her jacket. She wore a professional beige suit, the skirt riding several inches above her wobbling knees. Her blouse and pumps were beige, as well. The only spot of color was a blue silk scarf. She knew it matched her eyes.

She didn’t comment on how he looked. What did one say to a half-naked man?

“Come in.” He stepped away from the door, and she entered his house.

She tried to relax, but couldn’t quite manage it. She hadn’t expected to catch him fresh from the shower.

“Where’s Muddy?” she asked.

“Asleep. He tired himself out, chewing half the pillows in the house. I might have to crate him during the day. Or bring him to the barn, I suppose. He’d probably get into less trouble there.” Hawk gestured for her to sit. “Do want you a soda? Or a beer or anything?”

“No.” She glanced at the couch, but couldn’t bring herself to sit. “If this is an inconvenient time, Hawk, I can stop by tomorrow.” When his hair wasn’t damp. When he wore more clothes. When she could think clearly.

“I wasn’t doing anything. You’re welcome to stay. I’m just going to grab a beer. Are you sure you don’t want anything?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

She sat primly on the edge of the couch, and he returned with a bottle of Mexican beer.

“Is something wrong?” he asked.

“No.” She shook her head, then glanced around the room. He’d given the house a cabin-type feel, with rough woods and animal skins. His moccasins were tossed in a corner, and an end table was littered with old newspapers. Masculine clutter, she supposed, although she didn’t have any experience with it. Roy had been fanatical about keeping things tidy.

She spotted a framed photograph on another small table. The little boy in the picture had to be Hawk, the woman holding him, his mother.

Rain Dancer.

The name fit. She was the most exotic-looking woman Jenny had ever seen. One could imagine her dancing in the rain, her jet-black hair glistening beneath the moon.

No wonder she’d bewitched Archy.

She was spellbinding.

Jenny turned to find Hawk watching her. He’d taken a chair near the fireplace. His jaw was set in a tight line, his eyes suddenly more black than brown.

“Did Mrs. Pritchett say something about me again?” he asked. “Or about my mother?”

“No. I haven’t seen Mrs. Pritchett. But I spoke to your father today. Archy Wainwright is a business associate of mine.”

Hawk didn’t move, not one muscle. He didn’t even blink. “A business associate?”

“Yes.” Jenny folded her hands on her lap. Suddenly the room seemed smaller, the walls more compact. She wished there was a window open, a shift of air. “I’m an interior designer. I came to Mission Creek to work with the architect on the renovation of the new wing at the Lone Star Country Club. And now that it’s complete, I’m redecorating some of the original guest rooms.”

“And what do you think of good old Archy?” he asked, one corner of his mouth lifting in a cynical smile.

“I like him,” she answered honestly. “He’s been very kind to me. I landed the Lone Star Country Club contract because of him. He recommended me to the architect.”

Hawk took a swig of his beer, but his eyes were still dark and unyielding. “How did Archy become familiar with your work?”

“I was the designer on a chain of steak houses in Utah. Archy is affiliated with the owner.” She continued to keep her hands clasped on her lap. “I won an award for that project. For the authenticity and creativity of the Old West theme.”

“Have you told him I’m your neighbor?”

“No.” She felt as though she was being interrogated for a crime. “I didn’t feel it was my place. I don’t know anything about your relationship with your father, Hawk.”

“I don’t have a relationship with him. He’s never acknowledged me as his son. Surely Mrs. Pritchett told you that much.”

“Yes, but if you want to tell me your side of the story, I’m more than willing to listen.”

“What’s the point?” He pulled on the beer again. “It won’t change your mind about Archy.”

At a standstill, they stared at each other.

Jenny took a ragged breath and made the first move. “You’re the first person I’ve met in a long time that I thought I could be friends with. I’m not very social, and…” She paused to study his hardened features, stopping herself before she told him too much, before she admitted that she wasn’t allowed to have friends in the past, that her acquaintances consisted of Roy’s peer group.

“I don’t see how we can be friends,” Hawk said. “Not with the way you feel about Archy.”

She stood, the wobbly feeling coming back to her knees. “I know. But I can’t make myself dislike him.” The opportunity Archy had given her to come to Texas had changed her life. It had allowed her the chance to escape, to start over somewhere new.

Because Hawk remained silent, she walked to the door. “I should go home now. I’m tired and hungry.” And hurting. She hadn’t realized how important Hawk had become until this moment.

Their blossoming friendship had given her a glimmer of hope, a belief that they shared something unique. That she could spend more carefree evenings eating pizza and chatting with a man who wasn’t asking more from her than she was capable of giving.

But now he wanted her to choose sides, to pick him over his father.

It was an unfair demand and one she refused to be forced to make.

Jenny raised her chin and left Hawk’s house, determined to prove her point.

But as soon as she reached her front door, the familiar threat of tears stung the back of her eyes, reminding her of how lonely and isolated she really was.

Hawk hadn’t seen Jenny for nearly a week. And now he stood by the bed of his truck on a quiet Sunday morning, wondering what to do with the flat of flowers he’d purchased for her.

He’d gotten them to replace the geraniums Muddy had torn from the ground, but he didn’t know whether to leave them on Jenny’s porch or just go ahead and plant the damn things.

Hawk glanced at the dog. Muddy was loose on the lawn, playing in the grass, staying out of trouble for once.

He lifted the cardboard flat, deciding he’d leave them on Jenny’s porch. Why deprive her of the joy of arranging them? She liked planting flowers, and he would probably bungle the job, anyway. He didn’t mind mowing the lawn or pulling weeds, but decorative gardening eluded him.

Hawk carried the load with ease—until he reached Jenny’s steps, where he nearly stumbled.

She sat on the porch, occupying the swing, pretty as a spring picture. A simple white cotton dress draped her ankles, and her hair was loose and just a little bit messy.

He set the flowers near the rail.

“You didn’t have to do that,” she said.

“I told you I would replace them.”

Their eyes met, and for instant, he imagined touching her hair. A wild strand blew across her face, as rebellious as the South Texas wind.

He could smell the enticing aroma of citrus groves stirring in the air. Or was the fresh scent coming from Jenny?

Hawk wanted to tell her that he missed her, but he couldn’t bring himself to say something like that. They barely knew each other. He had no business missing her.

He frowned and she glanced away. She looked so damn vulnerable, so lost.

Like a dove with damaged wings.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

Her gaze shot back to his. “For what?”

“For being an ass.” Why did women always make men explain themselves? Why wasn’t “I’m sorry” ever taken at face value? “For getting ticked off about your business association with Archy.”

“You’re not angry because he recommended me for a job. You’re angry because I like him.”

Hawk frowned again. He couldn’t stand the thought of Archy influencing her life. It just gave him one more reason to hate the man.

Frustrated, he fantasized about kicking the porch rail and splintering the wood, but he held his temper. He wouldn’t let Archy rule his emotions.

“We should spend more time together, Jenny.”

Her eyes grew wide. “We should?”

“Yeah. If you’re still willing, I want to be friends.”

“I’m still willing.”

“Good.” When he sat beside her, the swing creaked. She smiled shyly at him, and he inhaled her fragrance.

“It is you,” he said.

“What’s me?”

“The lemons I smell.”

“It’s another one of those body mists,” she responded, rocking the swing a little, her voice as shy as her smile. “I bought the variety pack.”

Suddenly Hawk got a craving for lemon meringue pie. Well, hell, he thought, maybe he wanted more than friendship. Maybe he wanted to explore the man-woman thing happening between them and see how good it felt to kiss her.

Silent, they both watched Muddy toss a new toy around Jenny’s yard. At some point the dog had followed Hawk onto her property.

“He plays fetch,” Hawk said. “But he’s not consistent. Sometimes he’d rather eat the ball.”

She laughed, but the silence that followed became awkward. That man-woman thing was creeping in, and he sensed it made Jenny uncomfortable.

She was attracted to him, but she didn’t want to be, at least not in a physical sense, he thought. But why?

“So you’re originally from Utah?” he asked, realizing he knew little about her.

“Yes. Salt Lake City.”

“Do you still have family there?” he asked.

“No.”

“How old are you?”

“Thirty. How old are you?”

“Thirty-three,” he responded, realizing getting Jenny to talk about herself wasn’t easy.

Well, one of them had to open up, he thought. “Do you still want to hear my side of the story?” he asked.

She turned to face him. “You mean about Archy and you and your mother?”

He nodded.

“Yes, I’d like that very much. I saw your mother’s picture. She was very beautiful.”

So are you, he wanted to say, still itching to touch her hair, to brush her bangs out of her eyes.

To kiss her.

When she blinked those stunning blue eyes, he cleared his throat.

“My mom worked at the Lone Star Country Club. That’s how she met Archy. She was a riding instructor. Of course, Archy didn’t need to learn to ride, but he was around the stables quite a bit.” Hawk paused, then explained further. “The Wainwrights and the Carsons used to own the horses at the club. And I suppose they still do. Have you met the Carsons?”

“Most of them. They’re the other family who established the club. I’ve heard there’s a feud between the Carsons and the Wainwrights.”

“Yeah, it’s been going on since 1927 or so.” And Hawk had been tempted to join the feud, to ally himself with the Carsons, to work on their ranch just to spite Archy. But he’d stayed away from both wealthy families. “Anyway, Archy and my mom had an affair. She knew he was married, but she’d been young and naive, just impressionable enough to believe he would leave his wife. Of course, he never had any intention of ending his marriage. When my mom told him she was pregnant, he refused to acknowledge that the child she carried was his.”

“What did Rain Dancer do?”

For a second Hawk only stared. He wasn’t aware that Jenny knew his mother’s name. “She left town and went to live with my grandmother in Oklahoma. We’re Chiricahua Apache. Most of the Chiricahua live on a reservation in New Mexico, but there is still a small number residing in the vicinity of Apache, Oklahoma.”

“So were you raised in Oklahoma? Did you come back to Mission Creek on your own?”

“No. My grandmother died when I was five, and Mom decided to return to Texas to introduce me to my father, to make another attempt to get Archy to acknowledge me.”

“She could have filed a paternity suit.”

“Yeah, she could have. But she was too proud to do that. Besides, this wasn’t about money. It was about honor. And love.”

Jenny smoothed a strand of her hair. She watched Hawk with a gentle expression, with compassion in her eyes. “Do you remember meeting Archy for the first time?”

“Yeah.” Hawk recalled it vividly. “He looked at me for the longest time. And for a moment I thought he was going to smile or ask me a question. Or shake my hand. But instead, he turned to my mom and said, ‘He’s not mine. Anyone can see that he’s not mine.”’

“I’m sorry,” she said.

Hawk blew out a tight breath. “When Archy walked away, my mother said, ‘He knows you’re his, and someday he’ll come forward and give you his heart.’ I wanted so badly to believe that.”

Muddy leaped up the porch steps and skidded onto the wood. Jenny leaned down to pick him up. As she resumed her seat, his dirty feet made marks on her clean white dress.

Content to be in her arms, the pup quit squirming and calmed down, settling into her lap. Hawk envied him the luxury, the warmth, the soft feminine touch.

“I can’t believe Archy did that to you,” she said, continuing their conversation. “He seems kinder than that.”

“I guess that’s what my mom thought, too.” But Archy had that effect on women, a charm they couldn’t seem to resist. Hawk knew better. “The one bright spot was that Archy’s wife left him when she found out about me. He didn’t get away with being a liar and a cheat. Of course, he blamed me for the destruction of his marriage, and so did his other children. Walking around with the Wainwright name isn’t easy, but I won’t give it up. My mom wanted me to have that name. In her eyes, it legitimized my birth.”

For a moment he thought about Archy’s recent challenge regarding his name. There was no point in mentioning that to Jenny, he supposed. He didn’t intend to hear from his dad again. “The Wainwrights are rich and powerful, so that makes people curious about me, too. But I’ve learned to deal with the gossip, with people like Mrs. Pritchett.”

Jenny stroked the dog. “Mrs. Pritchett said some awful things about you and your mother. The next time I see her, I’m going to tell her that she has no business spreading vicious rumors.”

“Thanks, but she won’t listen. She’s already formed an opinion of you now, too.” And that meant Jenny would become part of his world. “Being my friend isn’t going to be easy,” he said. “People will wonder about you. They might even make up stories about us. They’ll think I’m corrupting you.”

“I know,” she responded quietly.

Yes, he thought, she knew. But knowing might not be enough. If their relationship stirred up too much gossip, Jenny’s reputation could suffer.

Hawk hoped and prayed that he was worth the risk.

Four

A week later Jenny spent the morning at the Lone Star Country Club stables, wandering around the facility, hoping to feel some sort of connection to Hawk’s deceased mother. It seemed like an odd thing to do, but Jenny couldn’t help herself. She was curious about Rain Dancer, curious about the woman who’d given birth to Archy Wainwright’s illegitimate son.

Caught up in the moment, Jenny studied the breezeway barn, the fenced arena and the paths leading to South Texas riding trails. Spring bloomed in the air, carrying the scent of hay, horses and flowers.

Money bloomed in the air, too. The aura of wealth.

And Jenny stood in the center of it all, wondering about a woman who had worked there thirty-four years ago.

She couldn’t condone Rain Dancer’s affair with a married man, but she could picture her, young and naive, caught up in a world not her own.

Had she been in love with Archy? Had he simply swept her off her feet?

Maybe it had been the other way around. Maybe Rain Dancer had knocked Archy off his feet. Maybe the beautiful Apache had been everything his wife wasn’t.

Archy’s wife could have been staid and cold—the overly proper, calculating socialite. Then again, she could have been kind and loyal, someone her husband had treated like a doormat.

Either way, Archy Wainwright was becoming less and less of a hero in Jenny’s eyes. What he’d done to Hawk proved that he—

“Are you planning on riding today?” a masculine voice asked from behind her.

Jarred from her thoughts, Jenny turned to face the intruder.

“Archy?” For a moment she wondered if he was a figment of her imagination, an unwelcome apparition she’d conjured out of thin air.

He stood tall and broad, his gaze fixed steadily on her. The brim of his hat shaded his face, but his eyes crinkled warmly at the corners.

He looked fatherly somehow. Big and protective.

He moved closer, and she cursed her emotions. She wanted to hate him, to blame him for hurting Hawk, yet somehow she knew the older man cared about her.

It made no sense. How could he treat her like a daughter and turn his back on his son?

“I’m not riding today,” Jenny said finally. “I’m just touring the stables.” Searching for a connection to Rain Dancer, she added silently. Trying to satisfy her curiosity about Archy’s clandestine lover.

Was it a coincidence or a strange twist of fate that he’d shown up this morning?

“Have you toured the barn?” he asked.

“No, not yet.”

“Then allow me to be your guide. I’m familiar with the stock.”

He placed his hand on her shoulder. His touch was firm yet gentle. She thought about Hawk’s mother and Archy’s scorned wife, wondering if they had screamed and clawed at each other the way wounded women often did.

Jenny couldn’t imagine fighting over a man, but she knew how it felt to have someone break her heart.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“Just a little preoccupied.” What would he say if she told him what was on her mind?