Regretting Redemption Page 6
Pacing the front living room – in his socks of course – Ian ran his fingers through his hair.
What if Mary didn’t understand he needed to know if she was really okay or not? What if he didn’t believe her answers and she was okay? Or wasn’t okay? He’d believed Elena, had even pretended to believe her lies because he had no idea how to fix anything, if she wasn’t alright.
Oh, grand, he was rambling in his own head. Rambling. Sliding to a stop, Ian braced his hands against the wall, staring down at the carpet where it met with the light brown trim. What was he doing? Why couldn’t he go check on Mary? Make sure she was all right for himself?
He could claim to have found something of hers, but what? No, that wouldn’t work. Maybe he came by to ask Lisa something? He wasn’t prepared.
He was going to visit her, even if he had to make up a reason for being there. The reason was just escaping him at the moment.
Peanut Butter didn’t acknowledge the saddle strewn across her back. She turned her neck and gazed balefully at Ian like she didn’t know whether to be annoyed or amused. He patted her flank and chuckled. “I’m acting like a lovesick chap, aren’t I? Well, you just wait until the day you find a stud to make eyes at.”
If Nana Nell caught him talking to Peanut Butter like a long lost friend, she’d tease him and smile with a modicum of pity. Nana Nell didn’t like that he was single.
Heck, he didn’t like that he was single.
The turn in his thoughts sobered his amusement and he tightened the breast collar on the horse, tugging backwards on the saddle to ensure its snugness. The leather strap helped counter Peanut Butter’s tendency to shimmy and he couldn’t afford possible injuries to her or him if the saddle should slide off her back.
Heading into town, Ian couldn’t help but contemplate Mary’s situation. Would she believe he cared and worried about her? She’d wonder why, since they hadn’t known each other long enough to even find out favorite colors.
Or favorite flowers.
Ian stopped by the florists who also served as post master. He couldn’t show up empty-handed and flowers seemed like the thing to bring.
He thrummed his fingers on his leg while waiting for Mrs. Peterson to finish sorting the mail into the post office boxes around the corner.
“Alright, Mrs. Peterson?” Ian leaned over the counter, flashing his smile and sizing up the calla lilies in the cooler case. He only used the English expression for hello with the post mistress because she got a kick every time out of his accent. He even over-did it when around her.
She peeked around the corner and chuckled. “Ian Dawson. I don’t think I have anything for you or Miss Nell. It’s been a slow mail week. I think Mr. Peterson got the packet of seeds he’s been waiting for. Shh, though, I don’t want him to know until after dinner. Otherwise, he’ll be outside planting and his dinner will be cold.” She winked, brushing her clean hands off on her canvas apron adorned with an American flag.
Ian cleared his throat. Mrs. Peterson had been trying to set him up with local girls for the last twelve years or so. He’d never bought flowers from her. “Actually, Mrs. Peterson, I would like to get one of your famous bouquets of calla lilies, please.” Oh, don’t ask me who they’re for, please. Ian smiled, silently turning all his charm on her.
“Is this for your Nana Nell?” Her grin was engaging and mischievous.
“No, ma’am.” And that’s all he could say. There wasn’t any certainty behind his actions, more a sense of necessity and he couldn’t explain who they were for without going into unnecessary details. Details he wasn’t prepared to share with anyone. Details he didn’t understand.
Mrs. Peterson blinked at him a few times and then nodded slowly. “Of course, Ian. Let me put one together.” She didn’t acknowledge that he’d really made an odd request. Instead, she unwrapped tissue paper, wrapping and tugging and clipping on the branches.
His palms broke out in a sweat and he lifted his hat a couple times to cool his brow. He wasn’t doing anything wrong, so then why was he so dang nervous?
Mrs. Peterson handed over the bouquet, waving off his wallet as he brought out cash to pay for the beautifully arranged bundle. “Son, I’ve been trying to get you to give one of my bouquets for years now. I’m glad to finally see one leave with you.” She peered around him, probably for a glimpse of the girl, patting his hand and shooing him from the building.
“Thank you, ma’am.” A heated blush worked its way up his neck as he found his way to Peanut Butter. The heat of the summer day wouldn’t grow until afternoon and Ian enjoyed the soft breeze wending its way through the buildings and cooling the streets.
“Come on, girl.” Winding the reins around his free palm, Ian led Peanut Butter down the main thoroughfare. He didn’t need to ride. What he needed was a few minutes to gather his courage.
He wasn’t going into battle or anything. Why was he nervous to see Mary again? Because sitting next to her made parts of him aware of her scent and the soft curves of her body? Or could it be that he’d connected with her and couldn’t help but see some of his sister in her? Or maybe he was worried she was in danger and he didn’t know how to save her? Or maybe he just liked her and was over-thinking the entire situation.
Whatever the reason, he had to get himself under control before he reached Lisa’s door. The last thing he needed was for Mary to think he didn’t know what he was doing. If they ever made it to a first date, he could let her know he’d been nervous to even be around her.
Or he could just give her the flowers and turn around and go home.
Tying Peanut Butter to the mailbox post outside Lisa’s condo, Ian took a deep breath and climbed the stairs.
He knocked on the door and rocked back and forth on his heels, his nerve endings threatening to burst with adrenaline. If he was that nervous over just seeing her again, would he have a heart attack when he finally asked her out?
He was entirely too worried about any potential dates with Mary and needed to take things a minute at a time. He didn’t even know if she was interested. Bloody hell, he didn’t even know if he was interested.
The door opened and Mary froze, staring at Ian. He self-consciously looked around the apartment and then back at her. “Um, hello. Again.”
“Hi.” Mary glanced past him and then checked the dainty watch on her wrist.
Holding the flowers aloft and somewhat in her direction, he shifted on his feet. “I wanted to bring these for you. Make sure you really are okay.”
“Of course, I’m okay.” She lowered her arm, raising her gaze to his, a flash of vulnerability hidden behind a ready smile. Carefully, she claimed the bouquet, studying them out of the corner of her eye. She leaned in and sniffed, like they were as delicate as gossamer butterfly wings. “I love lilies. Thank you.” She cradled them in one arm while checking her watch again.
“You seem a little…” He couldn’t put his finger on it. Maybe it was impatience or irritation. He probably shouldn’t have shown up two days in a row uninvited. While a part of him shied away from embarrassing situations like that, he couldn’t help but worry she was waiting for the other guy. The guy who created doubt in herself.
She waved her hand and glanced toward the parking spots again. “No, I’m sorry. I’m just frustrated.” She motioned him inside and closed the door behind him as they both moved toward the couches. “Lisa went to a job and then was called out to another one and I need to borrow her truck.”
Ian wanted her to focus her eyes once more on him. He’d never seen such blue eyes and when she let her guard down, their intensity was staggering. “I could take you wherever you need to go.”
Mary peered at him, pointing toward the front yard. “You rode your horse, right? Isn’t that Peanut Butter?”
She remembered his horse. If he was a sap, she’d have his heart. He was British, so he’d be stoic about who he fell for – even if she was great with names and didn’t freak out that he’d shown up two days in a row.
Tilting her head to the side, she scrunched her lips. “I need to visit my mom and I don’t think taking a boy to see her right now, would be appropriate. Especially one I don’t know very well.”
He hadn’t been called a boy in a long time. Ian chuckled. “Yes, that would be uncomfortable, wouldn’t it?”
She considered him, brightening slowly as what he offered sank in. “Even knowing that, you wouldn’t mind? It might be a bust. I haven’t spoken to my mother in years.” She blushed, her admission costing her pride.
“I wouldn’t mind. It’s another chance to spend more time with you.” His heart thrummed harder as the bright pink in her cheeks deepened and she glanced to the side, taking a small piece of her lip between her teeth.
When had he become so emboldened as to compliment a girl like that? Usually he was more reserved, more formal. But she brought out some kind of fire he didn’t want to ignore. He hadn’t felt so… what was the word? American. He hadn’t felt so American before.
She stood, the straight line of her skirt swishing against the table. “Okay, thanks. I need to grab my purse.”
“And pants. You need to wear pants.” He hadn’t meant to tell her what to do, but she’d never be able to ride the horse in her flower print skirt.
She nodded, smiling. “I’ll be right back.” She returned a moment later, having donned a light blue pair of cotton capris. She scribbled something on a pad of paper, claimed her purse and moved to the door.
Ian followed her, slow to understand that she’d actually accepted his offer. “You must really want to see your mom.”
She offered a sad twist to her lips. “Yeah, I wasn’t kidding when I said it’s been a long time since I’ve seen her.” They took the stairs at a sedate pace, her in front, glancing back at him as she spoke.
He didn’t have an answer. When was the last time he’d worried about his relationships? He didn’t know how to explain the intricate details of his life to people he didn’t want to think less of him and there were more facts that many would look down on.
Climbing into the saddle, he reached down and helped lift Mary to Peanut Butter’s rump. It wouldn’t do for her to be on Peanut Butter long, but the sturdy horse could handle Mary’s slight weight for the short ride to Dawson Ranch.
Her thin arms snaked around his waist and she pressed herself firmly to his back. Startled at the immediacy of the contact, Ian didn’t dare breathe too deeply in case she’d be forced to let go. The band of chest where her arms clung to him sung with a tingly sensation. She even pressed her cheek to his shoulder blade!
Was it okay that he didn’t want the best horse ride in his history of riding horses to ever end?
Every footstep and jostle rocked them close and apart. The ride was torture for Ian’s confused mind. He hadn’t been secure enough in where his interest lay with her as far as he was concerned. He couldn’t imagine how confusing things had to be on her end.
Where did he want to end up? Was he interested in romance with Mary? She had baggage, that wasn’t a secret. Ian didn’t even need to hear the details to know that she carried a lot of emotional damage around with her.
But he knew details… too many for comfort. Yet, even the fact that her father was Devlyn Caracus – the bastard who had raped and killed and burglarized and robbed more people across Montana, Idaho, and Washington than Ian could count – didn’t have the capability to darken Ian’s opinion of her. Something else he had to take into consideration.
At his ranch, Ian lowered Mary to the ground and untacked Peanut Butter.
Mary moved to stand beside his truck, anxiously checking her watch and peering at the barn and rest of his land in view.
In the cab, they fell into a comfortable silence, the hum of the tires on the pavement and the hushed drone of the diesel engine a soothing soundtrack to their drive.
The summer had been drier than usual and golden shafts of grasses bent and swayed in the breeze as they passed. Green trees covered the rising mountains in the distance. He’d never get tired of the Montana scenery.
“Um, I hope you don’t mind me asking, about your sister? Lisa mentioned you had one and that there was a tragedy.” Mary left her words there, like an offering, waiting for him to do something – even if it meant he was mad.
The cloudless sky seemed to cast a shadow across the golden scenery. He didn’t look toward Mary as he focused on the black pavement blurring by.
A drawn out tense silence crackled between them. He wasn’t upset, he didn’t know how to answer. How much? How far? What was too much information and how much wasn’t enough?
Finally, he swallowed the lump building in his throat. When he spoke, his words burned, but he forced them anyway. “Yeah, I, um, well, I didn’t help her. I should’ve… when I could’ve.” He offered a shrug and a quick glance her way before returning his gaze to the rode. “I didn’t know enough about the situation, and… let’s just say, choices were made and I couldn’t control it or prevent it.”
Mary watched him, then turned to stare into the distance with him. “I’m sorry.” Her apology didn’t have any hint of flippancy or even insincerity. Not like so many others. She offered it to him, her words and intent filled with care and sorrow.
He peeked at her again, startled at the sight of a single crystal tear coursing down her cheek. His defenses fell and he murmured. “Why?”
“Lisa said the man was one of my father’s friends… my cousin.” She whispered, unable to face him.
The narrow road offered a sliver of a shoulder which Ian pulled onto. He put the truck in park and turned to face Mary, her straight dark hair falling past her shoulders and her blue eyes tormented as she turned to meet his gaze.
“Hey.” He reached out and took a swath of her hair between his forefinger and thumb and rubbed the silken strands. “No. You’re not going to regret things that have nothing to do with you. We all carry enough on our shoulders. Why add to it?”
She focused hard on his eyes, like gauging for his truth or seeing if he patronized her. Something must have satisfied her questioning because she nodded slightly, blinking back more tears.
“I appreciate your words, but I don’t associate you with that man, or his family.” Ian ducked his head to find her gaze again. He had to have those eyes on him, seeing him, holding him in the center of her sight for a moment longer.
She glanced up, catching his gaze for a second, her smile sad. “But that is my family.”
What did he say to that? He shifted into drive and pulled onto the empty road.
If she couldn’t divide herself from the family, would she defend their actions? He had to worry about that later. As it was, he wasn’t sure they were destined for more than friendship.
Chapter 11
Mary
The drive to the next town over where Mary’s mom lived passed in no time. Ian parked in front of Mary’s mom’s brick rancher and turned off the engine.
Bright white daisies lined the neighbor’s walkway and a small sprinkler sprayed water over the fence by the far corner of the brown grass.
Mary couldn’t help reaching for Ian’s hand. She gripped his fingers like the reins to a runaway stallion. “I haven’t seen her in so long. We… well, we got in a fight a couple years ago. When I started seeing Edward, I didn’t call her or anything.” She shrugged. “He never liked me to have other friends or talk about visiting other people, so it was just easier, you know?”
He squeezed her fingers in his, his touch warm and steady. “Look, you don’t have to go up there, but I can tell you regret tastes bitter. I’ve chased mine with liquor more times than I can count.” He studied the white trim of the h
ouse. “I can stay here, if that’d make you feel more comfortable?”
Her fingers burning with his touch, she smiled. “You’re so sweet. Thank you, but I need to do this on my own, plus, how would I introduce you when I have to explain I have a fiancé, too?” She snickered, the sound dying at the realization she might not be engaged to Edward anymore. She didn’t want to introduce Ian as anything less than someone significant and she didn’t even know him all that well.
“Of course. Well, I’ll give you my number and you can text me when you’re ready for me to come back. I’ll find something to do in town.” He nodded and stared out the windshield, a cooler ambiance in the cab. The curve of his brim hid his profile from her searching eyes.