What would Megan think of all the hunting trophies on the wall? He'd never thought to consider her feeling on that subject given her work in animal rescue. But he sure as hell hoped it wasn't a deal breaker.
He hooked his elbow on the top of the ladder, looking out over the stable, pool, tennis courts and a recently added playground. Evie would love this place. He could almost envision her in her tiara, fitting right in with the rest of the kids. Except a person had to be a member to have full use of the facilities.
How had he gotten to the point in his mind where he was envisioning Evie and Megan here?
"Whit?"
A voice from below tugged his attention back to the present.
He looked down to find one of his pals from the Dallas branch of the TCC, Aaron Nichols, partner in R&N Builders. Aaron had been overseeing the repairs to the club, but didn't appear to be in any more of a merrymaking mood than Whit was. But then given the fact Aaron had lost both his wife and his kid in a car accident several years ago, Whit could see how holidays must be particularly tough.
Which made him a first-class ass for feeling sorry for himself over being alone for Thanksgiving.
Whit hooked the lights along the top of the tree, wrapping and draping. "Hey, buddy, what can I do for you?"
Aaron handed up more lights, controlling the strand as it unrolled. "Just here to help. Shoot the breeze. Everyone's asking about you inside."
"Yeah, well, somebody's gotta take care of the tree out here." That had always been Craig Richardson's job.
Aaron nodded with an understanding that didn't have to be voiced. "Have fun on your big rescue mission?"
As if Whit hadn't been asked that question a million times already. Folks had expected him to bring Megan today. He'd entertained that notion himself while in Colorado, but she'd shut him down.
"We helped place a lot of cats, eased the burden on the shelter. It was a good day." He kept the answer brief and changed the subject. "Thanks for the cleanup at the shelter last weekend." Whit hooked the light over a branch. "I appreciate so many of you pitching in."
"We help our own," Aaron said with a military crispness he hadn't lost in spite of getting out of the service. "We would have gone sooner if we'd realized how tough things were at the shelter."
And Megan wasn't one to ask for help easily. He admired her independent spirit, her grit, the way she fought for her daughter and the animals. He just hadn't realized how much he would flat-out enjoy being with her too.
He hauled his attention back to the present rather than daydreaming like a lovesick teenager. "Everyone's been up to their necks in repairs. Sometimes it's difficult to tell where to start."
As he reached for Aaron to feed him more lights, Whit caught a glimpse of a car approaching with a woman at the wheel.
There was a time when women weren't allowed at the club unless they were accompanied by a male member. But a few years ago the TCC had started allowing women to join, a huge bone of contention that caused great friction in the organization.
Now, however, almost ten percent of its members were females. Two years ago they'd added an on-site day-care center, which had created even greater discord. But this year, things had finally begun to settle down and feel normal for the TCC members. Watching everyone pull together today, Whit could see there was a real sense of camaraderie the club hadn't experienced in a long time.
So a woman coming to the club on her own wasn't a surprise or big deal. Except this woman had unmistakably red hair. Whit knew her from gut instinct alone, if not sight. His pulse sped up and he decided that this time, he wouldn't just bide his time. He'd known and wanted her for years. Aaron Nichols's presence had served to remind him how fast second chances could be taken away.
Whit tossed aside the strand of lights, leaving them tangled in the tree branches for now, and climbed down the ladder. Because he'd found the perfect distraction to lift his holiday mood and make him feel less like Scrooge.
Megan Maguire had come to the Texas Cattleman's Club.
Six
Megan told herself she was not coming to the Cattleman's Club to see Whit. Absolutely not.
Holding a Tupperware container full of homemade brownies, she exited her new-used compact purchased after the tornado took out her other car and hip-bumped the door closed.
Evie had wanted to bake on Thanksgiving so they would be like a real family. Real? The comment had sent Megan into a frenetic Betty Crocker tailspin that produced dozens of brownies.
She was proud of the life she'd built, damn it. She was an independent woman with a satisfying career and a great kid.
This morning hadn't been very easy though. Evie had thrown a screaming fit over the thought of wearing regular clothes to a playdate with Miss Abigail's great nieces. The counseling videos and books recommended by the preschool director just weren't working with Evie. Finally, Megan had surrendered to the request for a homemade costume made out of cut up sheets. In the big-picture view of things, it was most important that Evie wanted to play with other kids again without her mom present. But Megan had had to draw the line somewhere. When Evie had wanted to be a zombie, Megan suggested she be a mummy instead. Somehow a mummy princess seemed more benign than a zombie princess. What four-year-old knew about zombies?
Megan adjusted her hold on the container of brownies and picked her way around the big trucks and SUVs in the parking lot. Halfway to the looming lodge, as she was passing a golf cart loaded down with fresh evergreen boughs and spools of red ribbon, she felt as if she was being watched. She tracked the sensation to a towering pine tree with a ladder beside it. Whit stood at the base, his boot on the bottom rung, Stetson tipped back on his head.
Of course she'd known he would be here today.
But she didn't know what she would say to him. At all. She'd been off-kilter this week, questioning herself. She'd spent all of Thanksgiving imagining what it would have been like to share the day with him. Had he been alone on the holiday because of her decision?
His offer to spend the day together had intrigued her the more she thought about it. But it also had her reliving their kiss in Colorado. Had she really thought she could just sleep with him for one night and then walk away? This was a small town. They would run into each other.
Often.
That was good motivation to tread warily, because if things exploded between them, there could be lasting fallout. Not just the upheaval it would cause for Evie to lose a male figure in her life, but Megan also had to think of her job and how a big blow-up between her and Whit could make living in this town together awkward. She had to put Evie first and her daughter was happy here.
"Hey, hello, Megan," a female voice called out from a row of cars over.
Megan turned to see Stella Daniels waving as she got in her sedan to leave. The administrative assistant from the mayor's office had become an unexpected hero after town hall had taken a direct hit in the tornado. With Mayor Richard Vance still in the hospital, Stella was serving as the unofficial leader of Royal, giving interviews to the major networks and making heartfelt pleas for federal aid. Her quiet calm was just what the town needed in a crisis.
Megan could use some of that calm for herself.
Waving back, she smiled, then grappled to keep the plastic container from tumbling out of her arms. Stella ducked into her car; the organized woman was likely headed back to the office or off to inspect more cleanup efforts, even on the weekend.
Megan balanced the brownies again, turning back to the ladder only to find Whit gone. But it wasn't more than a second before Whit's broad hands came into view, sliding underneath the container.
"Can I help you with that?" he asked, his broad flannel-clad shoulders angling beside hers, their elbows bumping lightly as he shifted to help.
"Thank you. I brought these to thank the club for all their hard work at the shelter." She handed the three dozen turtle brownies to Whit.
"That's what we do." He glanced back over his shoulder. "Right, Aaron?"
Startled, she looked past Whit, surprised she hadn't even noticed Aaron Nichols was there as well. Just as she hadn't noticed Stella until the woman had called out. Megan had been one hundred percent focused on speaking to Whit. She'd seen that easy smile too many times in her dreams. Remembered the feel of his touch on her waist. Her hips...
Aaron clapped a hand on Whit's shoulder. "We can finish up later." He tipped his head to Megan. "Good to see you, Megan. Be sure this bozo doesn't keep all the brownies for himself. See you inside." He pivoted away and went into the lodge.