Radclyffe - Homestead

Ella turned her head, stared hard. “Clay—look out the window. Can’t it wait?”

Clay shook her head, her gaze locked on Ella’s. “It’s already waited fifteen years too long.”

“It’s not my business,” Ella said, turning on the county road leading to the job site, “but why the hell did you wait all this time? It’s pretty clear you still have feelings for her.”

“I told myself lots of reasons,” Clay said, “most of which were honorable and downright heroic. But the truth of it is, I was ashamed to face her. I didn’t deserve her then and I don’t deserve her now, but if I can figure out what to do so that I will, I want to.”

Ella shook her head, her laugh short and a little bitter. “I don’t think love has much to do with whether you deserve it or not. Maybe you just need to be lucky enough to recognize it and not blow it when you have the chance.”

“Voice of experience?”

“Something like that.” Ella sent Clay a fleeting grin that was humor mixed with a little bit of pain. “You, though—you’ve always struck me as being really lucky.”

“I thought my luck had run out the summer I lost Tess. Since then, I haven’t really cared how my risks paid off.”

“Well, I hope this time the odds are in your favor.”

“Thanks,” Clay said. “Is there anything else you and I need to settle?”

“I was considering a duel at dawn, but the weather kind of put an end to that idea.” Ella concentrated on the road. “I’ll tell you what I told Tess. I think Tess is a great woman. I’ve liked getting to know her. She never suggested we were going anywhere, so I’ll be glad if we can be friends.”

“So will I,” Clay murmured. She hoped there would be more than friendship for her, but Tess might not agree.

“Hi,” Tess said, holding the side door open. “Come on in.”

“I’m pretty wet—maybe I should leave my boots out here,” Clay said, feeling awkward all of a sudden. Seeing Tess again was a punch to the chest. Even with worry in her eyes, Tess looked beautiful, her hair still damp, wearing a plain light-blue shirt, worn work jeans, and fuzzy gray socks.

“Don’t worry about it, everything is wet.” Tess followed Clay’s gaze down to her feet and laughed softly. “Just take everything off inside here. I’ve got a fire going in the kitchen, and you can dry out a little bit. Want some coffee?”

“Yeah, I could use some. Thanks.”

Tess backed up, still facing her. “Come on in, Clay. It’s safe.”

Clay realized she was still standing out on the porch, dripping onto the mat that said Welcome, hoping that she really was. She wanted to see the warmth of welcome in Tess’s eyes more than she’d ever wanted anything. If she could only have that, she’d be grateful, even if she did ache for more every day of her life.

“Unless you’re scared,” Tess teased gently.

“Terrified.”

Tess laughed, and grinning, Clay stepped into the parlor, a big room facing the front of the house with an antique rug the colors of the fields covering most of the random-width wood floor, a couple of big sofas, a fireplace that looked like it worked in winter but was barren now. Hand-hewn exposed beams framed the ceiling, crowning a room that spoke of history, of generations one with the land. “This place looks like you.”

Tess’s eyes widened slightly. “Thanks. It feels like me, but that always seemed like a funny thing to think.”

Clay took off her rain slicker, draped it on an iron coat rack next to the door, and kicked off her work boots. She set them on a tray next to a similar pair that must have been Tess’s. “I don’t think it is.”

“Well,” Tess said, all of a sudden not knowing what to do with her hands or any other part of her. What she wanted to do was grip Clay by the shirtfront, drag her closer, and kiss her until the rain disappeared and the only storm she knew was the one they made upstairs in her bed. Clay was like the land to her—alive and vibrant and powerful, filling a hunger as old as her soul. And she had the most kissable mouth.

Clay stared at her, as if reading the want burning beneath her skin.

Afraid to move too quickly, afraid of what she might do if she let up on her control, Tess slid her palms into the back pockets of her jeans and rocked slightly in her ridiculously unsexy gray work socks. Now was not the time to be thinking about escaping her life. What she needed was to get it set on the right course. “We should talk.”

Clay grimaced. “Now there’s a statement you never want to hear from a woman.”

Tess laughed and relaxed a little. Clay always seemed to be able to make her laugh, even when she was angry at her. “You know, sometimes you walk a very thin line.”

Clay shot her a brief but cocky grin. “I know. I was hoping you might like that.”

“There are a lot of things I like about you. I just wish there weren’t so many things in the way.”

Clay’s expression suddenly turned serious. “I’m hoping I can change that this morning—get rid of some of the baggage…past and present.”

“All right.” Tess let out a long breath. She wasn’t angry any longer, and the absence of the dark fire that had been a constant companion for far too long was exhilarating and a little frightening. She understood now how a person could come to depend on anger to give some kind of meaning to life, but that was not what she wanted to build the rest of hers upon. Tess hesitated, then held out her hand. “Come with me. You’re leaking on the floor.”

Clay took Tess’s hand without the slightest pause, her grasp firm but gentle. Tess rubbed her thumb over the top of Clay’s hand as she led her on a winding path through the house to the kitchen. The subtle rise of Clay’s knuckles and the valleys between her tendons reminded Tess of the rolling countryside around her, enduring and endlessly beautiful. Clay’s skin was warm and slightly rough across the palm. She didn’t just manage the drilling operations, then. Apparently, she did some hard work too.

When they reached the kitchen, Tess pointed to the cast-iron wood-burning stove. “A couple of minutes in front of that will dry out the worst of it. Are you hungry?”

“No,” Clay said, turning her back to the stove. “I had a huge breakfast at Pete Townsend’s not that long ago.”

Surprised, Tess paused getting the cups down from the cabinet. “You met with Pete this morning? After you left here?”

“Yes.” Clay shrugged. “I was too keyed up to sit in the B and B and listen to it rain. Couldn’t take the bike out for a run. So I figured I’d take a run at Pete instead.”

“How did it go?” Tess asked, more conflicted than she’d expected to be. On some fundamental level, she wanted Clay to succeed merely because she was Clay. And she didn’t like the idea of Pete making Clay’s job harder, which of course made no sense, since Pete was essentially standing up for everyone who didn’t want NorthAm drilling in their county. And that included her, at least, she thought it did. “Damn it.”

“What?”

“Oh, nothing. You just muddle my head.”

Clay looked annoyingly pleased. “Sorry?”

Tess laughed. “Never mind. You’re an awful liar.”

“My meeting with Pete is part of the reason I’m here,” Clay said.

Digesting that news, Tess poured coffee into two big ceramic mugs and carried them to the table. Even though Clay had said she wasn’t hungry, it was well after noon, and she suspected Clay hadn’t had lunch. Clay looked tired and drawn, and Tess had an overwhelming urge to erase the shadows from beneath her eyes. If she couldn’t do that, she could at least feed her. She quickly assembled a platter of cold cuts and put a loaf of bread in the center of the table on a breadboard along with a knife to cut slices for sandwiches. “Just in case.”

Clay reached for the bread knife. “Come to think of it…”

“Here, I’ll do it.” Tess assembled a couple of sandwiches, enjoying the simple act of preparing a meal for Clay. She could easily get used to it, and for once, she didn’t deny herself the pleasure. They ate to the sound of rain on the slate roof.

A few minutes later, Clay pushed back from the table and sighed. “Thanks for seeing me, Tess.”

“Somehow after last night, thanks seems unnecessary.” Tess folded her napkin carefully and placed it beside her plate, giving herself time to find the right words. “Last night was…I’ve never experienced anything like it. I felt so damn free.”

“I don’t quite know how to describe it, but you’ve always made me feel that way—free.” Clay rubbed her face. “Last night was even more than that…something special, something all unto itself. I felt like we were somewhere out of time—where no one could touch us.”

“I know,” Tess said softly. “I feel the same way, and now it’s gone.”

“Is it?”

Tess stared at her hands. “I don’t know.”

“I think we could find that place again—every time we touch.” Clay reached across the table and clasped Tess’s hand, entwining their fingers. “I know you don’t want to hear this, but I love you. I have always loved you and always will. I know I fucked up—”

Tess looked up sharply. “Don’t. I don’t want to keep dragging the past around with me, at least not the parts that keep hurting. So I don’t want to hear ‘I’m sorry’ from you again.”

Clay nodded, her gaze searching Tess’s.

“There are a lot of things I want to say to you.” Tess took a shuddering breath. “But first I have to know—did you know Ray blackmailed your father?”

Clay grew very still. “I suspected there was some kind of deal…” She shook her head. “My father doesn’t share all his dealings with me. In fact, he doesn’t share a lot of things with me. He tells me what he wants me to know, and I suppose I’m partly responsible for not pushing back more.”