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Tessa sat on the edge of a nearby bale. “My guess is that you passed out.”
“What time is it?”
“About eight-thirty.”
Curtis let out a long whistle and winced a little as he sat up. “I just came in to feed the stock . . .” he said, but avoided her eyes and dropped the bottle in an empty oak cask that had been shoved against the wall. His grizzled jaw hardened and he rubbed his chin. “Looks like I overdid it a mite.”
“More than a mite.”
“Maybe.” He rubbed his forehead, then pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger as if to ward off a tremendous headache. “It’s McLean’s fault. He called and got me all riled.” Blinking rapidly, he fixed his eyes on his daughter. “So now you’re back from California.” Sighing loudly, he asked, “What’s gotten into you, Tessa? Taking off for three days and nights with Denver McLean. Living with him just like you were married! It’s a good thing your mother’s not alive.”
She inhaled sharply, wounded by his words. “My relationship with Denver has nothing to do with you.”
“I’m the one that raised you—taught you right from wrong.”
“I haven’t done anything wrong,” Tessa said.
Curtis squinted. “That’s probably a matter of opinion. Look at you.” He wagged a finger at her linen skirt, silk blouse and leather pumps. “You already look different-like those damned mannequins you see on a Hollywood game show.”
“I haven’t changed, Dad, and I didn’t come in here to fight about Denver,” she said slowly, biting back the urge to scream that she loved Denver McLean. “I came to talk about you.”
“Me?”
Tessa sat on the bale next to him. “You’ve got a problem, Dad. With this.” She reached into the oak cask and withdrew the bottle.
“A problem? Me?” He barked a short, uncomfortable laugh. “No way. Sure, I have a drink now and then—”
“Every day. And it’s not just one drink.” She saw the pain in his eyes, the despair, and she had to fight to keep talking. Her own insides were shredding. This man had raised her and Mitchell alone, had done everything he could to give them a good life, had provided for them and cared for them when their mother died. He’d been mother, father, provider and friend—at least he had been until that horrid night when the stables were engulfed in flames.
Curtis’s already flushed face reddened, his watery gaze drifted away from hers. “So now you’re tellin’ me how to run my life,” he whispered, running one work-roughened hand over the worn denim covering his knee.
Tessa’s eyes burned. “I only want to help,” she said, placing her hand on his shoulder.
He flinched. “You’ve been listening to McLean.”
“No—”
“Then why now, Tessa? Huh? Why now—right when you’re fresh off the plane from Los Angeles and Denver McLean!” He eyed her speculatively. “And just when is he coming back here? Let’s hope it’s soon. Then he can sign the papers and we can all be rid of him.”
“It’s not that easy,” Tessa said.
“Why not?”
“No one’s heard from Colton.”
“Bah! If you ask me, Denver’s just stringin’ you along. If he wanted to sell his part of this ranch, he’d be on the phone to his lawyer in a minute. Where there’s a will, there’s a way.”
“Denver’s already called Ross.”
“Has he now? Does that mean he is or isn’t coming back here?”
“I don’t know,” Tessa said. “Maybe you can tell me. He called, and you talked to him.”
“It wasn’t much of a conversation.” Curtis shook his head, then reached into his jacket pocket, searching for cigarettes. He pulled out the pack, found it empty and crumpled it in his fist. “All he said was that he’s been delayed. There was some kind of emergency.”
“Emergency? What happened?”
“He didn’t bother sayin’. If ya ask me, it was an excuse—a way to avoid comin’ back here.” His gaze turned sad and some of the fire left his eyes. He looked suddenly old and weary. “You know, Tess, there’s a chance McLean’s double-crossing you.”
