Poker Face Page 10

  “Now why would I want to bring harm to such a fine ass?”

  The remark was not totally unexpected, since Drew had been saying things similar to it over the past couple of days, but Megan found it still shocked her all the same. She threw a quick glance over at him, and sure enough he was admiring her rear end, wearing a wicked smile that had her thinking of naughty things. Her cheeks flooded with heat. Something had definitely shifted between them: an unspoken truce, although now that they were no longer arguing, all that unspent energy needed somewhere to go. She didn’t know how long she’d be able to watch him set up on the black Arabian, wearing old worn out jeans and a baby blue collared, button down. His dark hair was a sexy mess, like he’d slept in the barn all night, although she knew that wasn’t true; he smelled nothing like a horse, in fact, that was part of the reason she’d snapped when he’d jumped down off his own horse to help her mount, because his subtle cologne had her head spinning with desire.

  “See. I can do it myself.” She smiled sweetly down at him, settled on top of Angel, pretty proud of herself.

  He laughed, the sound another thing she would have to add to his irresistible appeal. When Drew laughed it was as if all was right in the world.

  “What?” he asked, when he found her studying him.

  “I just like hearing your laughter. You should do it more often.”

  “I have a feeling you’ll get to hear plenty of it today. Are you sure you know how to handle a horse?”

  “How hard can it be?” She wasn’t about to tell Drew that her father had taught her how to ride when she was younger, before he’d become so eaten up with cancer it was all he could do to make it to the bathroom without soiling his underwear, he’d even lost that ability in his final weeks, reduced to the use of a bedpan. It was slowly coming back to her: the feel of the reins in her grip, the horses quivering muscles underneath her, the power… She clicked her tongue, and Angel’s hoofs pounded out a steady rhythm as they galloped across the open field, a blue cloudless sky above them.

  God how could she have forgotten what it was like.

  “Loosen your grip on the reins, sweetheart. Relax, there is nothing to be afraid of.” Her father’s words.

  I remember, daddy. I remember.

  Tears welled up in her eyes, from either the wind in her face or the emotions building up inside her. It was as if tiny pieces of her shattered self were rimmed with magnets and all the lost pieces were being irrevocably pulled back into their rightful place. Her chestnut hair whipped out behind her, free from its usual ponytail, and her heels dug in, urging Angel to go faster. And faster. Until the horse’s coat was slick with perspiration.

  She vaguely heard Drew calls from somewhere behind her, but she couldn’t stop. She didn’t want to stop. It had been too long, since she’d remembered happier times when her family had been whole. And dammit, she wasn’t ready to give that feeling up only minutes after she’d found it again. So she leaned forward, switched the horse’s flesh with the ends of the reins.

  She didn’t know how much distance they’d covered, because in her mind, she was seven again. Her father close beside her, instructing her on how to ride.

  She was snapped out of her trance, when strong hands were suddenly there, pulling back on the reins, bringing the clamoring horse to a slow stop. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? Trying to kill yourself?!” He didn’t give her time to answer before his boots hit the ground and he was yanking her from the horse, his face tense, his words sharp. “Are you insane woman? You could have been hurt! Not to mention, you damn near ran my favorite horse to death. Well? Don’t you have anything to say?”

  *****

  Megan blinked, but said nothing as the tears spilled down over her cheeks, cheeks slightly pink from the humiliation of being yelled at—he guessed, all he knew was he felt like an ass, a major ass for making her cry. Honestly, he had been more terrified for her safety, than anything else. When he watched her take off on Angel without an ounce of caution, his heart had nearly stopped in his chest. And now she stood only a few feet away, safe, her chest heaving with every breath, so different than the spoiled girl he’d met that first day. His gaze slowly drank her in: her windblown hair, her lips parted as if to tell him she was sorry.

  He’d never wanted a woman so much in his life. Damn it all to hell. He breathed in a deep breath and tore his gaze away from her full, wet lips, afraid of what he might say or do if he didn’t. Oh, he had flirted with her, but it had all been innocent fun to watch her blush, but maybe he’d been playing with fire, and if he wasn’t careful he might be the one to get burned.

  Then Megan did the unthinkable by throwing her arms around his neck, her warm cheek pressed against his. Her grip tightened around him, and he involuntarily closed his eyes, a hand going to the small of her back. She smelled like a field of sweet wild flowers. “Thank you, Drew. Thank you for letting me ride Angel.”

  Of all the unpredictable things she could have done in response to his scolding, hugging him and thanking him ranked up there at the top. He was speechless. Completely. After a few quiet minutes, he attempted to speak, “Um, yeah, sure.” He handed her back her reins. “Just go easy on her from now on.”

  Day Twelve

  “You look as if someone has stolen your best friend.” Lillian pressed her lips to the rim of the wine glass, her lips as red as the wine swirling in the glass. She leveled Drew with her inquisitive gaze.

  Once a month, ever since that morning he’d met Lillian standing practically nude in his father’s kitchen, he and Lillian had met for lunch. Yes, it was odd the woman jumped a plane just to come meet him for a couple of hours. He figured it was her guilt, but ten years was an awful long time to feel such guilt, guilt that obviously his own mother had never felt, so somewhere deep down, Drew knew Lillian enjoyed his company, plain and simple.

  And he enjoyed hers.

  She had filled a void in his life.

  The void a mother should fill.

  In the beginning, when he was much too young to slip out to meet her at a restaurant, she’d come to him, early in the day, after his father had already left for the office. They would cook breakfast: pancakes and bacon, same as that morning. Then, when Drew had become a teenager and could drive they’d started meeting for lunch, somewhere nice, and quiet. He’d assumed once she’d married Stratford their lunches would end, but they hadn’t.

  Then there was Megan. Over their meal, Lillian would always share her daughter's latest escapades from ten years of age to the day she’d dropped out of college claiming it was a waste of time. Drew probably knew as much about Megan as… well, as he knew about anybody. Of course, even though he’d heard all about the first time she was grounded for sneaking in late, or he’d heard about her prom date from hell, or the day she’d graduated from high school… and how Lillian was beside herself because she couldn’t get her daughter to commit to anything for longer than a week… yes, even though he’d known all these things, he had never actually seen Megan, not in person, until the day she’d stepped out of that taxi at the ranch. She had been everything he had pictured in his head: beautiful like her mother, conceited, spoiled, and a pain in the ass.

  “Earth to Drew, hello, am I expected to talk to myself, or will you be joining me at some point of the meal?”

  He scrubbed his face with his hands, reached for his wine, his mouth suddenly dry. “I’m sorry. What were you saying?”

  Lillian placed her elbows on the table top, clasped her delicate fingers. “Forget it. Let’s talk about you… let’s talk about this bet.”

  Wine spewed from Drew’s mouth, and several customers at nearby tables stopped what they were doing to gawk at the dribbling idiot making a mess. Lillian hadn’t noticed, or hadn’t cared, he wasn’t sure which. Instead, she picked up her fork, and took a bite of her grilled salmon.

  Drew used the linen napkin to soak up his spilled wine, blood red bleeding into white. “My father told you?”

 
“No. My husband is a lot of things, but a liar isn’t one of them. He tells me everything. Like he told me your father paid him a surprise visit yesterday.”

  “Oh?” he prompted. Did he really want to know?

  Her brow creased, and she focused her gaze on her plate.

  “Lillian, what is it? Did my father do something I should know about?”

  “No. It’s what he said…”

  The chair Drew was sitting in creaked as he shifted under the glare she shot across the table. She was angry. At him. Shit. What had his father told Stratford? “What did he say?”

  “He’d come to see my husband to rub in his new win.”

  “His win?” What the hell?

  “Yes. Apparently, he took you and my daughter sleeping in the same bed, as a reason to break out the champagne and celebrate… said the ranch is as good as his. Is it?”

  “Hell no!”

  “So, you haven’t had sex with my daughter?”

  In his mind, maybe, a dozen times, at least. “Lillian, really, what do you think? Do you honestly think I’d do something so vile, just to please my father?” He took a another sip of his wine, rolling it’s flavor over his tongue. Vile? He was pretty certain having sex with Megan wouldn’t even come close to being vile. But he’d already thrown the word out there, backpedaling would only make matters worse.

  The tension in her face smoothed, her red lips edged up at the corners. “That’s what I thought, but then… I don’t know… something has changed with you. Earlier, when I’d mentioned Megan you seemed to go someplace else, instead of here with me...it’s almost like,” her eyes widened a fraction and her jaw went slack as she settled her wine glass back on the linen tablecloth. “Jesus, you’re in love with her!”

  Wine spewed from his mouth for the second time. He really needed to stop doing that. People were starting to stare. “I’m going to ignore that you said that.” Was all he said.

  “So you’re not going to try to deny it? How long?”

  His head was spinning. He was having trouble holding onto his silverware. Damn slippery shit. He had denied it. Hadn’t he? “How long, what?”

  “How long have you been in love with my daughter?”

  His voice lowered to a whisper, “I. Am. Not. In. Love. With. Megan.”

  A bark of laughter escaped from her mouth. “Your face is incredibly red right now. And I do believe you are sweating, my dear. ”

  He leaned in; they were the perfect image of two people in the deepest part of a confidential conversation. “Maybe that’s because we’re causing a scene.”

  Lillian braced her elbows on the table, locking their gazes. “I’m going to ask you again. Have you had sex with my Meg?”

  This was absurd. “No. How many more times do I have to say it?”

  “But you want to.” Lillian was too much like a mother. He’d told her things he’d never told another soul. Things he probably shouldn’t have told her. But it had been nice to have at least one adult to talk to, when his father had been absent most of the time chasing a woman younger than the last. As a result of all his shared secrets, Lillian could see right through all his bullshit. And she took his silence as a straight answer. “Well? What are you going to do about it?”

  “Just what I’ve been doing… absolutely nothing.”

  “So you’re going to let your asshole-of-a-father ruin your one chance at true happiness?”

  Now he was the one laughing. “You put an awful lot of faith in your daughter's abilities. What makes you think she is my ONE chance at true happiness?”

  “Because I know for a fact you’ve never felt this way before, Drew. You’re twenty four and you’ve never had sex with a woman… do you even know how rare that is? And yes, I’m well aware of everything you were exposed to as a child, but com’on you’ve got to be awful lonely…”

  “That’s not exactly true… I’ve been with women.” He could feel his cheeks growing hotter by the minute.

  She lowered her voice another notch, “blowjobs don’t count.”

  Silverware clanked against ceramic as he dropped his fork. “I don’t want to talk about this with you. It’s not right. There has to be some limits.”

  “Way I see it… my husband is the one that got you into this mess. He deserves to lose his stupid bet. You have my blessing.” She said with the shrug of her shoulder, going back to eating as if they were discussing the weather.

  “How kind of you,” he managed to get out around the lump in his throat. (This was crazy.) Okay, yes, he was attracted to Filly, and yes, she made his blood boil, but love… that word was not found in the Mackenzie dictionary, and if it was, the definition would read…. love and sex are one in the same, both last about ten minutes, if you’re lucky.

  “I’m serious. My Meg could do a hundred times worse than you. Maybe this is fate, and you and her were always destined to be together. I still believe in happy endings. I’ve been lucky enough to find true love, twice. I’d never steal that kind happiness away from anyone, especially my own daughter, it’s all I’ve ever wanted for her. Forget about your father, Drew. The past is what it is…the past.” She pointed the prongs of her fork at him to punctuate what she was about to say, “The look you get every time I mention Megan gives away exactly how you feel about her, even if you refuse to admit it.”

  Great. Now she was talking about fate and destiny and dreamy eyed looks of love.

  It was all bullshit. All of it.

  His stomach dropped.

  Or was it?

  *****

  Drew paced at the foot of the bed, a white towel secured around his waist, his hair still damp from the shower. Inside he was a tangled mess of nerves. He considered swiping a blanket from the bed, and taking up residence back on the couch before Megan finished helping Birdie clean the kitchen, but his pride would not allow it.

  He could do this.

  He’d slept in the bed next to her before, and somehow, he’d made it thru the night without being stupid.

  It was Lillian. She’d managed to get inside his head, planting all these thoughts and now all he could think about was all that fate and destiny bullshit. His relationship with Filly was a train disaster waiting to happen. Hell, what was he thinking? They had no relationship. All they had were weeks of endless bickering, and a sudden truce.

  He drug both hands through his hair, releasing all the air in his lungs. It was settled. He wasn’t about to wimp out like a pussy. Oh man, why had he allowed that word to sneak its way inside his head. “Because that’s all you’ve been thinking about lately.”

  He threw back the covers on his side of the bed, peeling the layers down to the cotton sheets. Great. He had a side. The right side. Near the wall. Well, to hell with that, he’d go ahead and stake his claim on the left side, closest to the door for escape. “Chill dude, you’re acting like a fifteen year old virgin who’s just been forced to sleep with a hot second cousin.”

  “Talking to yourself again?” Drew whirled around to see Megan smiling in the doorway. She walked over to the highboy dresser and pulled some clean clothes out of the drawers. He checked the towel to make sure there was no chance of it coming undone, revealing his semi-hard state just from her walking into the bedroom while he was partially nude. She turned, took a step towards him appearing to be unaffected by what he was wearing, or wasn’t wearing. “I swear, I smell like straight up Clorox. Birdie is insane. Do you know she uses a toothbrush to clean all the little grooves in the tile floor. I’ve spent the last hour on my hands and knees. Seriously. Here smell…” she held out a hand, palm up, wiggled her fingers inches from his nose.

  Drew’s calves bumped the mattress as he took a step back, the image of her on her hands and knees stuck in his mind. Shit. He was in trouble. Big trouble. He blurted out, “That’s okay, I believe you.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “What’s wrong with you? You have that deer in the headlight look.”

  His gaze lowered to her ratty old T-shirt clinging to
her breast, so much so he could see the nipples pushing against the fabric, his gaze traveled lower to her jean shorts, the really short one’s with the frayed edges where the legs have been snipped off. He swallowed hard, not sure what was reflected on his face.

  “Do I smell that bad?” she asked.

  He cleared his throat, “Are you going to take a shower, or are you coming to bed reeking of cleaning supplies?”

  She showed him the change of clothes in her hands with a half grin. “Relax, I’m going to take a shower. Mess with me and you’ll go back to the couch, big boy.” Ah, a glimpse of the old Megan, the one that was smart enough to always push him away. She walked to the doorway, and paused. “I’ll try to be quiet when I come to bed… in case you’re already asleep.”