Stay With Me (Hope Valley Book 5) Page 3

  “You had other surprises today?”

  “He sure did,” Mom answered, coming into the room while drying her hands on a dish towel. She gave Dad a withering look. “Doctor told him today he needed to cut down on his sodium and alcohol intake.”

  I looked from the beer bottle back to his face and arched an eyebrow.

  Dad scowled and turned back to the baseball game he’d been watching. “You can go ahead and wipe that look right off your face. I am who I am. I’m not gonna let a little thing like high blood pressure change how I live my life.”

  Mom looked at me and rolled her eyes at his unflinching stubbornness. “He says that now, but that man doesn’t have the first clue how to cook and hasn’t made a meal for himself in forty-five years. I’ve already thrown out all the salt in the house.”

  “Damn it, woman! You better not have.”

  She turned her attention back to him, giving him a look that just dared him to throw more attitude her way.

  Bill Hightower was all man, protective and strong and old-school alpha, wanting to take care of all that was his. But he wasn’t a stupid man. Becky Hightower ruled the roost, and he knew that just as well as I did.

  She’d grown up in Hope Valley just like him, but where my dad’s family was blue-collar, ranching and owning a bar for a living, my mom’s folks were different. My grandfather sat on the town council and played golf at the country club. My grandmother was on the board of the hospital and ran every charity she possibly could.

  The first time my parents saw each other was during the town’s annual Founder’s Festival. Mom was Miss Hope Valley, riding on the big float in a ballgown with her sash and tiara. Dad had been in the crowd watching the festivities in dusty jeans and muck-covered boots.

  It was love at first sight. They got married not long after graduation and had me five years later. My mom was still just as beautiful and classy as she’d been back then. Despite being a rancher’s wife, she woke up each morning and did full hair and makeup. She wasn’t a stranger to jeans and boots, but she still liked to rock heels whenever possible. Dad knew she did it for him. She was proud to be his wife and carried the Hightower name with pride and total grace, and because of that, he bent over backward to give her everything she could ever want.

  They could still be sickeningly lovey-dovey with each other when they weren’t at each other’s throats. And even when they fought, they did it hilariously.

  That was the kind of man I wanted. I wanted a man who’d look at me every time I entered a room like I was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, even forty-five years down the road. The kind of man who’d give me back talk even though he knew he’d cave and give me my way. The kind of man who’d work himself to the bone to give me everything I could ever want because he knew I’d do the exact same for him.

  “I sure as hell did, and you’ve got no say in the matter unless you wanna starve.”

  “Oh, for the love of….” He looked up to the ceiling and blew out a frustrated breath.

  Mom slapped her hands onto her hips and scowled. “Well excuse me for wanting to keep you around a little while longer, you crotchety pain in the ass.”

  He lifted his beer petulantly and took a long swig, keeping his petulant gaze on her the entire time. I bit my lip to keep from laughing as my mom let out a harrumph and stomped back into the kitchen.

  “Daddy,” I said in quiet admonishment.

  “What?” He shrugged unrepentantly. “If I didn’t push her buttons, she’d be bored out of her skull.”

  I giggled and shook my head. “I don’t think you need to worry about high blood pressure. Pretty sure she’ll kill you long before it has the chance.”

  Dad scoffed and finished off his beer. “Don’t I know it, dumplin’. Don’t I know it.”

  Giving him a pat on his arm, I left him to his game and followed my mom into the kitchen.

  Standing at the counter, she was dressed in tan pumps, a pair of lightweight red ankle pants and a trendy twinset, moving about as if the outfit was just as comfortable as pajamas while she sprinkled flour onto a ball of dough and began kneading.

  I pulled up a stool and watched as she worked, just like I’d done since I was a little girl. “What are you making?”

  “Chicken pot pie.”

  “With Dad’s new dietary restrictions, that should be interesting.”

  She let out a good-natured scoff. “I make it, he’ll damn well eat it if he knows what’s good for him.”

  I giggled. “Believe me, he knows what’s good for him.”

  Mom looked at me over her shoulder and shot me a sly wink. “I know.”

  Pulling out her rolling pin, she began rolling out the dough. It never failed to amaze me how easy she made everything look. There wasn’t a single stain on her clothes or flour streaked across her face. She might have taught me how to cook, but I’d never mastered making it look as easy as she did. Sure, my food tasted just as good as hers, but by the time I finished, I was wearing most of what I’d prepared.

  “Not that I don’t love the company, but what brings you by, honey bunch?”

  “No reason. Just felt like stopping in,” I mumbled. Unable to look at my mom when I lied, I cast my attention to the butcher block counter and began tracing the lines with my finger.

  “Pfft.” At her humor-filled huff, I glanced up as she turned to me completely. “My girl’s always been able to do anything she puts her mind to.” One delicate black brow arched toward her hairline as she finished with “Except lie.”

  “I’m not lying,” I defended.

  She wrapped the flattened dough around the rolling pin and gently began laying it across the pie dish as she continued. “Uh-huh. And I’m the Queen of England’s long-lost American cousin.”

  My forehead pinched into a frown as I grumbled, “You know, your ability to read me made my teen years a whole lot less fun.”

  Mom’s face split into the very smile that won her nearly every pageant she’d ever been in. “Reading you has nothing to do with it. You’re just a terrible liar, sweetheart. Always have been.”

  “That’s not true! I lie just fine, thank you very much.”

  Her head came up, her eyes glinting with challenge as she asked, “Yeah? Remind me again, what exactly happened to that antique porcelain doll your gramma gave you for your fourteenth birthday?”

  Ah hell. “I told you,” I started, dropping my gaze back to the counter once more as I mumbled, “I left my bedroom window open, and a bird flew in and knocked it off my dresser.”

  “And I rest my case.”

  “All right, so I lied,” I confessed, throwing my hands in the air. “But can you really blame me for breaking that thing? It gave me nightmares for weeks!”

  Mom at least had the good grace to wince. “It was pretty hideous.”

  “I don’t know what Gramma was thinking. That damn doll looked like something out of a horror movie.” That wasn’t an exaggeration in the slightest. After she gave it to me, lovingly setting it on my dresser so I could see it every time I woke up—her words—I slept with one eye open, convinced that demon doll would come to life one night and try to kill me in my sleep.

  “Well, whatever brought you by, I’m just glad to see my baby girl,” Mom stated on a laugh as she put the chicken pot pie in the oven to bake and set the timer. “You staying for dinner? There’ll be plenty.”

  Hopping off the stool, I grabbed a dishcloth and ran it under the water at the kitchen sink before moving back to the counter to wipe it down for my mom. “Thanks, but I can’t tonight. I’m actually going on a date.”

  I looked up to gauge her reaction to that news and found her bright blue eyes—eyes I’d inherited—glinting with understanding. “Ah, I see.”

  My chest grew uncomfortably tight as I turned back to the counters and started scrubbing harder. Being so close to my mom, I’d always shared everything with her. She knew how hard and fast I’d fallen for Cord, and she knew how badly it hurt when
Laurie came back into his life. She’d been the shoulder I cried on when he pushed me away, then again after the kiss we shared that broke my heart.

  “I should’ve moved on a long time ago,” I admitted.

  Rounding the island, she came over to me and placed her hand on mine, forcing me to stop wiping the already-gleaming countertops. “Rory, look at me.” My lips pursed as I blew out a heavy sigh and gave her my full attention. “You sure this is what you want?”

  I thought back to two nights ago, my nose stinging as I fought back the urge to cry. “It doesn’t matter what I want, Mom. I’ve wanted him for years, and you know how that’s turned out. I’ve been sitting stagnant for too long, waiting for him to see me, and what do I have to show for it?”

  Her eyes grew damp and shiny with sadness for me. “Oh, honey.”

  “I’m just tired of being alone,” I said in a small, quiet voice. “I have to let him go.”

  “All right, sweetheart,” she said quietly, reaching up to cup my cheeks. “I just want you to be happy, that’s all.”

  I wrapped my fingers around her wrist and squeezed. “Thanks.”

  “Just promise me one thing. You’ve always refused to settle. Don’t start now.”

  I had the best mother in the world. “I promise, Mama,” I said with a tiny smile.

  “And you make certain to order the most expensive thing on the menu,” she said emphatically. “’Cause my girl’s worth it.”

  The tension broke, and I threw my head back on a laugh.

  “What’re you two cacklin’ about in here?” Dad asked, coming into the kitchen. He moved to the fridge, grabbed a beer, and uncapped it before turning back to us and taking a swig.

  “Your daughter’s goin’ on a date tonight,” Mom answered with a facetious grin.

  Dad promptly began choking on his beer. Coughing and sputtering, he banged on his chest until he could breathe normally. Once he could, he gave Mom a glare. “Fresh hell. That was just cruel, Beck.”

  He looked to me then, his face ashen like he was about to be sick. My dad wasn’t just protective. He tended to go a little overboard when it came to me dating. The boy who picked me up for my very first date pulled up in front of our house to the sight of my father skinning a deer with his biggest, sharpest hunting knife. My prom date showed up to find Dad cleaning his guns. All ten of them. Then there was my first serious boyfriend. We broke up shortly after he went hunting with my dad. Just the two of them.

  To this day I still didn’t know what he did to poor Philip, but I imagined the worst. I was just thankful he’d come out of those woods at all.

  “Okay, that’s my cue to leave,” I said, biting back my humor as Dad continued to stare daggers at Mom. “I’m out before you two can kill each other.”

  I stood on my tiptoes to kiss my father’s cheek before moving to my mom to do the same. “Love you guys.”

  “Love you too, honey bunch,” Mom said. “Have fun on your date. And don’t forget what I said. You order the most expensive meal on the menu.”

  “Don’t you dare.” Dad spit unhappily. “You order that, you’ll have to put out. Then I’ll have to hunt the son of a bitch down and kill him.”

  “William Robert Hightower!” Mom shrieked. “That’s a terrible thing to say and completely untrue!”

  “It sure as hell is true.” he argued back.

  And as the two of them went at it, I made my escape, waiting until I was in my car with the engine running to burst into laughter.

  Chapter Four

  Rory

  Pulling into a spot close to the front of the restaurant, I threw the car into park and picked up my cell phone.

  It had been years since I’d been on a date, and while I knew online dating was commonplace, I was still nervous as hell.

  The phone rang three times before Tempie picked up. “Hey, babe. What’s up?”

  “Tell me I can do this,” I blurted, my palms getting sweaty as I looked up at El Toro’s brightly colored sign.

  Tempie had been my best friend since we were little girls, and like my mom, I told her everything. Well, almost everything. She knew all about this date, and while she wasn’t happy, she still supported me. She didn’t push when I refused to tell her what had gone down with Cord and me, but just like the rest of my friends, she was holding out hope that something would happen between us, no matter how often I told her it wouldn’t.

  They were all hopeless romantics now that they had their dream men, and they were hell-bent that I get the same, even if it wasn’t in the cards for me.

  “Do what?” she asked, her voice ringing with confusion.

  “The date!” I cried in a panic.

  “Oh. The accountant from Hidalgo, right?” she asked.

  “Yep, that’s the one.”

  “Then you can totally do this,” she said through the phone. “He’s lucky to be in your presence, let alone on a date with you.”

  I inhaled carefully through my nose and slowly blew it out through my lips. “Okay, that helps a little.”

  “You’re smart and gorgeous and sweet and totally hilarious. You’re the perfect catch.”

  Then why am I still alone? I thought but kept the words to myself. Pushing that morose thought from my mind, I lowered my voice and said, “Thank you, honey.”

  “And if the worst happens and the guy is a dud, El Toro’s margaritas make everything better.”

  I let out a laugh. “That’s true.” Feeling much better than I had a minute ago, I turned the key and killed the ignition before opening the door. “Thanks again, Tempie. I appreciate this.”

  “You good now?”

  “Yeah.” I let out a sigh, feeling much lighter than I had just minutes before. “I’m headed in now.”

  “All right, Ror. And if you get a chance, snap a pic of this guy and send it to me. That way, if you turn up dead in a ditch somewhere, I’ll have something to give the police.”

  I came to an abrupt stop on the sidewalk. “That’s not helping,” I shouted, that panic starting to re-form in my stomach.

  Her loud, hysterical laughter rang through the line. “I’m just kidding, babe. It’s gonna be great. Now get your sexy ass in there and rock that accountant’s world.” With that, she hung up, leaving me to my own devices.

  Pulling in a fortifying breath, I steeled my spine and pushed my shoulders back, putting on an air of confidence as I headed into the restaurant.

  “Rory?”

  At the sound of my name, I turned to the left and spotted Mike, exhaling in relief that the man heading my way matched his profile picture. He was wearing a deep charcoal-gray suit with a pale robin’s-egg blue button-down beneath that was open at the collar. He was a couple inches shorter than Cord, maybe standing just over six feet, and had nowhere near the same bulk, but it was clear this man still took care of himself. He was attractive in a well-kept, intentional kind of way, whereas Cord Paulson could roll out of bed and be the hottest thing on two legs without even trying.

  Giving my head a subtle shake to clear it of all those unwanted thoughts, I offered my date a bright smile and answered, “That’s me. You must be Mike.”

  I extended my hand to him, but when he took it, instead of shaking, he stepped in close and placed a kiss on my cheek. “Wow,” he breathed once he stepped back. “You look amazing. That picture didn’t do you justice, and it was a damn good picture,” he said with a warm smile as he took me in, and I silently fist-pumped for deciding to go with my black spaghetti-strap wrap dress and peep-toe heels.

  Deciding to skip all the bangles and cuffs I usually wore, I went for a more toned-down look with a simple, delicate gold necklace and matching hoop earrings. Tempie liked to call my personal style “hippie rocker meets country girl,” and she was pretty much spot-on, but I’d chosen to go for a much more understated look tonight.

  “Thank you.”

  “Our table’s right over here.” He led the way by placing his hand on the small of my back and guiding me
through the crowded restaurant. In the time it took us to walk halfway across the restaurant, I spotted at least a dozen familiar faces, each of them looking at Mike and me with open curiosity, and I was stopped three times by someone I knew before we made it to our table.

  “You’re pretty popular in this town, huh?” he asked as he pulled my chair out for me.

  “Yeah, well, kind of a hazard of the job when your family runs one of the few bars in a small town.”

  He took the seat across from me and looked at me with interest. “Oh yeah? Which bar?”

  “The Tap Room.”

  Mike’s face split into a handsome grin. “Really? I’ve heard great things about that place.”

  Just like that, my nerves began to fade as we fell into easy conversation. He asked about my life, showing a genuine interest in everything I said. He was clever and had a talent for explaining his work in an animated way that actually made his job in accounting seem interesting.

  There wasn’t a single lull or awkward silence as dinner progressed. Mike was funny and sweet and had incredible manners, all of which should have made this an incredible date. But in spite of his ability to make me laugh and put me at ease, there was just one thing missing, and it was a doozy. There was no spark. Not even a flicker as the evening carried on, and it was depressing the hell out of me.

  There was absolutely nothing wrong with this man. He was handsome and charming and had a wit that I’d normally be drawn to, so the problem had to be me. And the more I stewed on that thought, the more I began to worry that maybe I was irreparably broken.

  Lifting my margarita glass to my lips, I took a long sip, the salt from the rim mixing with the tangy sweetness of the drink as I urged the tequila to help me forget a certain alpha male who was invading my thoughts and ruining a perfectly good night.

  “What was it like growing up on a ranch? I imagine it was a lot of fun.”

  A smile so big it made my cheeks ache spread across my face as I thought back to growing up on my family’s ranch. “It was the best. I think I spent more of my childhood outdoors than I did inside. Used to drive my mom crazy when I’d come in every night caked in dirt.”