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Chapter Twelve
Mitchell was waiting at the airport. Shaved and dressed in clean slacks and a cotton shirt, a crisp Stetson pushed back on his head, he waved to Tessa as she pulled her suitcase from the baggage carousel. “I’ll take that,” he offered, eyeing her closely. “You okay?”
“I’m fine,” she said, struggling with a smile.
“You don’t look fine.” Mitchell took her bag and slung one arm familiarly over her shoulders.
“Thanks a lot.” She blew a strand of reddish-blond hair from her eyes as they wended through the crowded terminal. Mitchell showed her the way to the old pickup and held the door for her. “What’s going on?” she asked suspiciously.
“Why?”
“The last time you opened a door for me was in high school. You wanted me to write a report on Macbeth or something.”
“You’re a jaded woman, Tessa Kramer,” he said, his green eyes glinting in the afternoon sun.
“And you’re holding out on me.” She tapped her fingers on the sunbaked dash until he climbed into the cab, flicked on the ignition and threaded the old truck through the traffic in the parking lot. Tessa stared out the dusty windshield. “What’s been going on while I’ve been gone?”
“Denver called.”
“Today?” She snapped her head around, eyeing her brother.
“Just before I left. He thought you’d be home. He didn’t know your flight was delayed in Salt Lake.”
“And you did?”
“I called the airport and found out there were mechanical difficulties with your connecting flight.” He grinned at her and winked. “I’m smarter than I look.”
“Good thing,” she teased, trying to keep the mood light, though she sensed something was wrong. “What did Denver want?”
“To talk to you. He said he probably won’t come back here as soon as he’d originally planned.”
“No?” Dread stole into her soul. Deep in her heart she’d feared that he would leave her again. Maybe their weekend in California had been a diversion for him and nothing more. But she hadn’t expected his rejection so quickly. The force of it washed over her in an ice-cold shower of reality. Her hands curled into fists and she tried to drive the ugly thoughts aside. “Why not?”
“He didn’t say,” Mitchell said, driving through town and stepping on the gas. “I guess something came up.”
“He must have told you something.”
Mitchell frowned. “He said he’d call back as soon as he could.”
Relief chased her fears away. “Did he say when?”
Mitchell’s lips compressed and his fingers tightened over the wheel. “The conversation wasn’t all that long.”
“Why not?”
Mitchell stared through the dusty glass to the road ahead. “You may as well hear it all, I suppose. Dad answered the phone.”
“So?”
“He wasn’t in very good shape, if you know what I mean.”
“He was drunk.”
Mitchell’s jaw clamped shut. He didn’t look at Tessa. “He’d had a few. And he told McLean just what he thought of you going to California.”
Tessa groaned. “How bad did it get?”
“Bad. Dad wasn’t crazy about you flying off to L.A. with Denver, or any man for that matter, I suppose. The fact that it was McLean only made things worse. By the time I got on the phone, Dad had told Denver what he thought and then some. Dad was red in the face and Denver wasn’t very communicative.”
