Twelve
He wasn’t wearing a hat and that was final.
Oliver had no problem putting on the boots and the belt buckle, and jeans and a button-up shirt with a sports jacket were fine, but he drew the line at a hat. Yes, Flash looked decent enough in his black felt hat but Oliver was of the opinion—the correct opinion—that his father looked like a life-size Howdy Doody doll in his enormous Stetson.
No hats.
Oliver was fully aware he was being irrational. But he had barely seen Renee for the last few days. When Chloe had blown into town like a twister, she’d swept Renee up and together they’d decamped to Chloe’s place for “quality girl time.”
Which was fine. He was perfectly capable of entertaining himself. He’d been doing it for years.
But when he came home to an empty condo and no fresh-baked cookies, it bothered him and it had nothing to do with actual cookies. Renee wasn’t there to breathlessly tell him about everything she’d accomplished that day. Whether it was successfully baking a loaf of bread or managing to crochet a small pot holder—at least, that’s what they were calling that lopsided square of yarn—she did so with such raw joy that he couldn’t help it if he wound up wrapping her in his arms before she’d even asked how his day was.
She glowed, damn it. Every day, her body changed a little bit and the haunted shadows under her eyes became an ever more distant memory and he was helpless to do anything but stare at her in wonder.
Because she was wonderful. And he’d missed her more than any reasonable man should miss a houseguest for the last two days.
But that was just it, wasn’t it? She wasn’t a houseguest, not anymore. She was...
His. She was his.
Wasn’t she?
He was in a foul mood by the time he made it to the Fort Worth Stockyards. He was hours early, but he wanted to talk to security and make sure Renee wouldn’t have any problems.
Plus, now that he was here, he was duty-bound to check in with the promoter and the stock manager about how Chloe was doing. The attendance numbers were good and her clothing line was selling well, as were the other souvenirs, but he wanted to hear it from the horse’s mouth.
He gritted his teeth and grinned his way through handshakes and back slaps. Everyone had good things to say about Chloe’s management, which was great.
Where the hell were she and Renee?
Then, like something out of a damned movie, the crowd of riders and horses and calves all parted and there she was. His breath caught in his throat as he stared. He barely recognized her, but he felt it when Renee looked up and their eyes met across the crowd. She gave him a little smile, one that sent a thrill all the way down to his toes, which were firmly wedged into his damn boots.
Chloe had worked magic on Renee. Her hair curled and artfully arranged under the brim of a straw hat, she was wearing a lot more makeup than usual. Her jeans clung to her curves and her button-up top sparkled with sequins. Her curves were more pronounced, her belly rounding out behind a ridiculous sequined buckle. He guessed that, if someone didn’t know she was pregnant she might not look it. She looked like a cowgirl, one that could walk in this world.
Even though it’d only been two days, he could still see how much her body had changed and he was pissed that he’d missed a single moment.
Leading her over to where the calves for the calf-roping event were penned up, Chloe said something to Renee and they laughed.
This was how she should always be—laughing and having fun and no doubt making cooing noises to the calf that sniffed her hand.
God, he’d missed her. Too much. He’d done his best to focus on the last three weeks instead of game planning the next few months or years, but he couldn’t help the fantasy that spun out of control in his mind.
He could marry her. He could adopt her baby and they could be a family. He’d grow old with her by his side, teasing each other while eating cookies and spending long evenings in bed and doing all those things parents did with kids—parks and soccer games and school plays. All those things that his parents had done with him—and her—when they were kids.
She could make him happy.
Then a thought jolted him almost completely out of his chair. All those happy scenes?
They hadn’t been in New York. They’d been in Texas, at Red Oak Hill, here in his condo. His perfect life with her was here. Not thousands of miles away.
Reality barged in because, in that vision of happiness, he hadn’t seen his overbearing father or loose-cannon siblings or even this stupid rodeo.
Besides, he didn’t even know if he could make her happy. She was still getting back on her feet and it probably wasn’t helping that they were sleeping together. Hell, she hadn’t even been able to explain those strange marks on her legs. He was afraid it had something to do with her husband, but he hadn’t wanted to push. She’d tell him in her own time. He hoped. And if she didn’t...
Hell.
A big man came up to Chloe and, after a second, Oliver recognized Pete Wellington. Damn it, when would he learn that the All-Stars wasn’t his anymore? The last thing anyone needed right now was for Wellington to cause a scene. But if he was here—and by the look of it, giving Chloe trouble—then things were about to go sideways. Fast.
Not that Renee knew it. She looked over at him again, joy on her face. She pointed to the calf, as if to say, See? He shot her a thumbs-up. Her whole face lit up and damned if that didn’t make him stick out his chest with pride.
He began to work his way toward her and Chloe but a rangy cowboy beat him to it. Flash. Damn it. He grabbed Renee’s hand and kissed the back of it—then startled and stared at her face. Crap, he’d recognized her. Oliver needed to get over there before Flash did something stupid. Well, Flash always did something stupid. All Oliver could do was hope that Flash took a swing at Wellington instead of making a big to-do over Renee.
“Mr. Lawrence? I need to speak to you. Right now.”
Groaning, Oliver cast a worried look at the Chloe/Pete, Renee/Flash train wreck in action before he turned. Surely they could all keep from killing each other for fifteen seconds. “Yes?”
A man glared up at him. Next to him stood a young woman with huge hair and a skintight leather skirt that was so short every single cowboy—and a few cowgirls—were staring.
“Brantley Gibbons.” When Oliver blinked in confusion, the little man said, “Brooke Bonner’s manager? And this is Brooke Bonner?” in a tone of voice that made it clear he thought Oliver was an idiot.
Right. The up-and-coming country singer performing after the rodeo tonight. Oliver cast another worried glance back at his siblings and Renee, but the crowds had shifted and he couldn’t see them.
He put on as welcoming a smile as he could. “Yes, hello. It’s a pleasure to meet you both.” He shook hands. “Welcome to the All-Around All-Stars Rodeo. We’re thrilled you were able to be here tonight.” The man’s eyes narrowed. Oliver knew that look. Something wasn’t quite right. “What can I help you with?”
“For starters,” Brantley Gibbons drawled, “you could see to Ms. Bonner’s dressing room. We very clearly stated in the contract that there was to be—”
“Why didn’t you tell me Renee was here!” This shout was accompanied by a punch to the arm that was hard enough to knock Oliver a step to the side.
“Shut up, Flash,” Oliver ground out. He spun to see his annoying younger brother with his arm around Renee’s shoulders and the world—well, it didn’t go red. But it went a little pinkish.
Flash, being Flash, did not shut up. “How long have you been hiding her?” He sidestepped Oliver’s attempt to grab him—and in the process, knocked Renee’s hat off her head. “I haven’t seen Renee since we were little—but maybe I should’ve checked her out.”
“Damn it,” Oliver growled, trying to step between Renee and...everyone. Because everyone was staring now. “Flash, shut up.”
Renee tried to bend over to grab her hat, but Brooke Bonner beat her to it. “You look familiar—have we met?” the singer asked, handing the straw hat back to Renee.
Brooke’s manager made an alarming noise. The look of shock on his face wasn’t good. And it only got worse when he said, “You’re Renee Preston, aren’t you?” in a way that made the hair on the back of Oliver’s neck stand straight up.
Flash launched the grin that made him a favorite with the ladies. “She was. Got herself married a few years ago?” He had the nerve to look Renee up and down. “Missed my invitation.”
“Knowing you,” Renee said, her smile stiffening as she cut another glance at Gibbons, “you would’ve used the wedding to get even for that one prank when...”
Flash held up his hands in surrender, but at least he was laughing. “God, I’ve missed you, Renee. You never did play fair, did you?”
The only reason Oliver didn’t break his little brother’s jaw was because the man between them was staring up at Renee with something Oliver wished wasn’t rage—but was.
“No, she doesn’t,” the manager said, menace bleeding into his voice.
Renee looked at him with panic in her eyes. Shit. He had to get her out of here before anyone started snapping pictures. At the very least, he needed to shut Flash up.
He moved toward her as Flash went on, “Damn sorry I missed—Ow!”
Chloe beat Oliver to the punch. “Mr. Gibbons, Ms. Bonner, hello. I’m Chloe Lawrence and—” she paused to grind the heel of her boot into Flash’s foot again “—we’re thrilled you’re here. I see you’ve already met Flash, one of our featured riders and, unfortunately, my brother.”
“Son of a—Damn it, Chloe, get off my—Ow!” He shoved Chloe aside and glared. “That was unsporting of you.”
Brooke Bonner giggled and Flash’s head whipped around. “Hello, Ms. Bonner.” With an exaggerated limp, he stepped closer, whipped off his hat and executed a perfect bow, somehow managing to get ahold of her hand and kiss it, just like he’d kissed Renee’s. “Flash Lawrence, at your command.”
Bonner batted her eyes at him. “Why do they call you Flash?”
If there was one thing Flash was good for, it was a distraction. As long as his attention was on Brooke, no one but the manager was paying any attention to Renee. Oliver got between Gibbons and Renee and started backing up. Renee hooked her hand through his waistband and held on tight.
Chloe let out a long-suffering sigh. “Because that’s about how long it takes for him to rub you wrong.”
“Or right,” Flash cut in. He still had Bonner’s hand.
Another cowboy—Oliver didn’t remember this kid’s name—crowded up. “Brooke, baby—” But that was as far as he got before Flash had him by the shirt and shoved him back.
“You don’t talk to her like that,” he growled, then added in a louder voice, “None of you talk to her like that. She’s a lady and you will treat her as one or I will personally make sure you live to regret it.”
Normally, Oliver would be irritated by Flash’s ability to make any situation about him. But he’d neatly redirected the crowd’s attention away from Renee. Gibbons seemed to remember where he was. He pivoted and headed straight to Brooke’s side, shooing back the crowd that had started to press in for a better view of the fight. “Brooke will not go on without—”
Oliver wasn’t about to look a gift distraction in the mouth. He backed up another step and was beyond relieved when Renee followed his lead. “Chloe will be able to make everything right.” She wanted the rodeo? This was her chance to prove she could handle it. Oliver gave his sister a look. “Mr. Gibbons says there’s a problem with the dressing room.” Chloe nodded and Oliver gave thanks he had at least one intelligent sibling.
“I’d be happy to see what I can do to make you more comfortable,” Oliver heard Flash say, which was followed by something that, if Oliver had to guess, was the sound of Chloe punching their twit brother.
Oliver didn’t care. He spun, tucking Renee against his side and all but dragging her away from the crowd. He glanced back over his shoulder to see Gibbons peering past people. Crap. Hopefully, Chloe would be able to communicate to Flash—either with words or fists—to keep his mouth shut about Renee if anyone asked questions.
Oliver was so busy looking over his shoulder that he nearly clocked into Pete Wellington. “Lawrence,” the bigger man all but spit.
Jesus, what else could go wrong? “Not today, Wellington,” Oliver growled, shouldering past the man.
“Your sister is ruining this—”
“She’s in charge—take it up with her,” he called over his shoulder as Renee crammed her hat back onto her head. “We’re leaving.”
If he’d expected her to shrink and cower, he was wrong. “Slow down.”
“What?”
Still holding on to him, she pulled back, forcing him to take smaller steps. “If you run, they chase.” She glanced up at him. “And for God’s sake, stop scowling.”
Confused, he slowed down. “Because...”
She sighed. “Because they’re sharks, Oliver. If they smell blood in the water, they’ll go into a frenzy.” Somehow, she managed to smile up at him. “Trust me on this.”
He damn near stumbled over his feet at that smile. It was warm and carefree and, if he didn’t know her so well, he’d think she was just another cowgirl having a good time before the rides.
But he did know better. Her shoulders were back and her chin was up and she had every single piece of her armor locked into place. And she was right, he realized. She had a lot more experience dealing with unfriendly crowds than he did.
So he forced himself to go at a snail’s pace. “I’m sorry you’re going to miss the rodeo,” he said, guiding her around a pair of cowboys making a beeline toward Brooke Bonner and her leather miniskirt. “I’ll make it up to you, babe.”
“It’s fine,” she lied. And it broke his heart because that lie rolled right off her tongue like he was supposed to believe that things would ever be fine again.
After what felt like a century but was probably only about ten minutes of semileisurely strolling, they made it to where he’d parked his truck. He helped her up into the cab and then fired up the engine.
Anger boiled through him. He’d told Chloe this was a bad idea, although it wasn’t her fault it’d all fallen apart so quickly. No, he had Flash to thank for that. His father was going to pitch a fit over this.
For years—years—Oliver had kept his promise to his mother that he’d take care of the family, because Trixie Lawrence had known then that her death would devastate Milt.
She hadn’t been wrong. But he’d tried and tried and tried, for God’s sake, to be the glue that held the Lawrence family together. He’d given up on his dreams of moving back to New York and working for anyone other than his father—because that was the truth. He wasn’t going back to New York as anything more than a tourist.
He’d given up so much more than that. He dealt with the damned rodeo and he ran an energy company and he didn’t like either one. His whole life had been in service to the Lawrence family name. Yeah, he had money to show for that. Money was great.
But it wasn’t a life.
And he wanted his life back. More to the point, he wanted a life with Renee. He wanted to make those daydreams a reality. He wanted to do what he wanted, not what was best for the bottom line or his father.
Maybe he wasn’t that different from Renee, after all. He wanted her for himself.
If he lost her because of his brother, so help him God, he would not be responsible for his actions.
They were silent while he navigated through traffic, but he was thinking the whole time. He could deal with his rage and his dreams later. Right now, he had a problem—a huge one. The Preston Pyramid Princess had been confirmed at the All-Around All-Stars Rodeo by someone who’d probably lost a lot of money in the scheme.
Oliver was a man of means. He had options. He didn’t have to put everything and everyone on lockdown. He didn’t want Renee locked away. He wanted her to be safe—and free. And more than anything, he didn’t want those two things to be a contradiction.
Once they made the roadways, he began to talk. “Here’s what I’m thinking.”
“Oliver...” she said softly.
He kept going. “I have a vacation home in Colorado—Vail. If I charter a flight, we could leave first thing in the morning.”
“Oliver.”
“But we could plant some rumors—be proactive. Say you were seen in Florida or something. I know a media specialist and—”
“Stop.”
“I see the red light,” he muttered as he braked. “If you’re not up for flying, we can take a car, but it’ll take longer. We should probably still hire the charter and send them in the other direction so—”
“Oliver.” Her voice was sharp, hard. It cut through the cab of his truck like a knife. “No.”
“You’d rather fly?”
“Jesus, men,” she said under her breath as the light turned green. “No, I’m not going to Vail.”
“That’s fine. Where would you like to go? I can—”
“Are you going to make me keep interrupting you?”
He almost didn’t recognize the woman next to him. There was something so cold and remote about the way she spoke, the way she held herself...
It was exactly how she’d been on that first day when she’d waltzed into his office. Had it really been a month?
One month with Renee, watching her grow and change with her pregnancy. Watching her discover who she wanted to be and making sure she had the space to be that new woman.
This was a huge problem. Because there had to be a way to keep her in his life without telling his family to go to hell or resigning. There had to be a way to get what he wanted and still honor his promises. She had to let him fix this because if she thought he was going to hang her out to dry...
“Well,” she began and instead of sounding upset or even worried, she sounded...amused? “I knew this would happen.”
“Babe...”
She held up a hand to cut him off. “It’s fine,” she repeated again. Oliver decided that the more times she said that, the less fine it actually was. “It was lovely while it lasted. And I did learn how to bake cookies. So that was nice.”
The hair on the back of Oliver’s neck stood up. He didn’t like how everything had suddenly become the past tense, as if the time they’d spent together was a chapter and Renee was closing the book. “It’ll be nice again,” he said, hating those pitiful words. Nice didn’t cover waking up in her arms. Nice didn’t cover laughing with her. Nice didn’t come close to how he felt about her. “I’ll—”
“No, you won’t.” She all but whispered the words. And then it only got worse because she turned to him and said, “I shouldn’t have come and I shouldn’t have stayed. I’m sorry, Oliver.”
“This is not your fault,” he ground out. That did it. Flash was a dead man.
She smiled. It didn’t reach her eyes. “That’s sweet of you, but we both know the truth.”
“The truth? What ‘truth’ do you think you know? Because here’s the truth, Renee—if I thought it’d make things better, I’d marry you today. Right now.” She went dangerously pale but otherwise, she didn’t react. Oh, hell. “I’d turn this truck around and head right back to the rodeo because there’s always a preacher who gives the opening prayer and I’d marry you in front of God, my crazy family and a bunch of livestock because, even though it’d be a huge scandal, it’d be the right thing to do. It doesn’t matter what your father or your brother or that ass of a husband of yours did, not to me—just like I hope it doesn’t matter to you that Flash is a jackass and my father is lost in his own little world and I’ve given years of my life trying to help them only to have them fight me on every single damned thing. I don’t care about them, Renee. I only care about you.”
Her eyes glimmered and her armor almost cracked. Fight, he wanted to yell. Fight for us.
“I care about you, too.” He took it as a good sign that her voice wavered just a little bit. “But I can’t hurt you like this.”
“Like what?” He stared at her, aware that his mouth was open. “How are you hurting me, Renee?”
She turned to look out the windshield. “Did you ever wonder why Clint and I were always at your house?”
So much for that crack in her armor. “Because we were friends and our house was more fun.”
Her mouth moved into something that would have been a smile if it hadn’t been so damned sad looking. “Fun. That it was.”
When she didn’t have anything to add to that, he said, “Renee?”
“Do you know what those marks on my legs are?” she said all in a rush.
“No.” He looked at her thighs as if he’d magically acquired the power to see through denim in the last five minutes.
He hadn’t. But he remembered those evenly spaced dots clustered together over a few square inches of her skin. They were too perfectly spaced to be random.
“She liked forks,” Renee said softly. “Whenever we did something that displeased her, she’d smile that cold smile and insist that we sit on her left side. She was left-handed. But once Clint tried to stick up for me, she stabbed him in the other leg, just because she could.”
Oliver blinked and blinked again. “Those are...stab wounds?”
“The scars of them,” she said with a single nod.
“Who stabbed you?” He felt an odd sort of relief that at least it hadn’t been her husband.
But that relief was short-lived. “My mother, of course.”
Oliver let out a slow breath. “Your mother.”
Another single nod. “She had these rules. No noise, no mess, obviously. Anything that might embarrass her was not a smart thing to do.”
He reached over and covered the spot on her leg about where the scars were with his hand. “I didn’t know.”
“We didn’t talk about it,” she said, as if that weren’t obvious.
Another long moment passed as traffic streamed past them in the direction of the Stockyards. All those people were putting down good money to see if Flash would get stepped on by a bull or not, and to see Brooke Bonner and her leather miniskirt bring down the house. They’d buy Chloe’s clothes and the men would spend money on All-Stars merchandise—all of which also had Lawrence Oil logos on it. People would buy nachos and beer, and there were games for the kids, who would buy stuffed horses and bulls. The rodeo was an evening of family fun.
He’d pay any price if he could give that to Renee.
He’d do anything to change the past. To do a better job of shielding her from an abusive, controlling mother and the scandals of her father. If he could go back, he’d give Clint a job, one that was legal and legit—one that would keep him out of jail.
“I need to leave,” Renee said quietly.
“I’ll go with you.”
She made a huffing noise that might have been laughter or it might’ve been frustration. “No, you won’t.”
“But—”
“You don’t get it, do you?” She pivoted in her seat and pinned him with a hard look. “I will ruin you, Oliver Lawrence. I’ll ruin you and your business and everyone you love. And I won’t do it. I...” Her voice cracked and she looked back out the windshield. “I can’t do that to you.”
His mouth opened but nothing came out.
“I need to pack,” she said, her voice strong and sure again. “And then I need to leave before it all comes crashing down on you. I won’t let my family destroy yours like they’ve destroyed me.”