Hot to Trot (Dancing in Texas #5)

Chapter Eighteen

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

J OHN HAD REMAINED virtually silent throughout the melodrama. Scarlet didn't blame him. After the way she'd hit him, she was surprised he'd stuck around. But he had to have good reason to be there. No man left New York City and traveled over a thousand miles merely to say hello to an old lover.

"John?" Scarlet said, ignoring the others. The place smelled like roses and baking bread, which should have relaxed everyone, but no one seemed to be soothed by the smells nor the comfortable, old-fashioned parlor. "We need to talk."

She glanced at Adam, who spoke quietly with an elderly lady wearing an American-flag shirt and a sun visor. He caught her gaze and gave an imperceptible nod, and it felt as if a guiding hand pushed her John's way. She had to deal with the past that had cropped up before she could move on to Adam and her future.

If there was one.

John stood close by, watching her with wariness in his eyes. He seemed so out of place in his Gucci loafers and stylish linen pants. He'd lost a good deal of weight which made him look older. Had it been over a year since she set eyes on him? How had he changed so much?

"Do you mind going outside?" she asked.

He took in all the people covertly studying him under the guise of chitchat and said, “That would be best.”

''Y'all can go out back, sugar," the older woman who’d been talking to Adam gestured toward the kitchen that presumably contained a door that led outside. “Plenty of places to talk away from prying eyes."

Everyone watched as she and John moved through the dining, into the kitchen, and finally out the back door. The backyard of Tucker House held bird feeders, blooming flowers, and a lush sense of privacy. John waved her toward a stone bench that sat near a detached wooden garage.

“I’m sorry I hit you," she said quietly, glad the grass was thick and thistle free. "You didn't deserve that. Well, maybe you did, but I still shouldn't have done it."

"It’s okay. Like you said, I deserved it.”

She pressed her lips together, smearing the leftover lip gloss and something that was likely mayonnaise. "What are you doing in Oak Stand?"

"I came for the picnic," he said with a wry smile.

She didn't laugh. Simply lowered herself onto the bench, still a bit weak-kneed. John took her elbow. "Thank you.”

John had always been solicitous, taking her under his wing long before he'd taken her into his bed. A mentor of sort, he might have been more a father figure than she’d like to admit. She often wondered if that had been her fascination with him. John had given her something she’d never really had.

Oh, she loved her father.

Both her parents loved her, bestowing on her gifts many parents failed to give their children. Their parenting had been loose at best, providing room to grow and flourish wherever she chose. Yet, at the same time, they’d not given her much stability.

John had given her a center, grounding her, advising her, and even protecting her.

"I'm sorry I surprised you like that,” he said settling beside her and plunking a blade of grass from the planter next to the bench. He twirled it between his fingers. “I tried to call your cell. I even called your aunt's inn."

“Yeah, I suck with my phone. I mostly text. But I’ll be honest I erased your message without listening to it."

"I'm not surprised. I handled things badly."

She sighed. ''No, you didn't handle them at all.”

"Touché," he muttered, moving to take her hand, but she shifted away. She didn't want him to touch her so intimately. Those days were long over. She didn't know when it had happened, but she knew she no longer loved John. If she did, she would have been overjoyed to see him, despite her anger with him. She'd felt nothing. Nothing but shock that he'd turned up in the middle of a world he had no business being in.

"So do you hate me now?" he asked, splitting the blade of grass and tossing pieces onto the ground at his feet.

"No, of course not."

He smiled. "You wouldn't. You're a good person though you sometimes allow people to think the worst of you. Like that little sham with the police chief."

She flinched. "What do you mean?"

"Come now, Scarlet. It was evident to everyone in that room he is head over heels for you. To pretend you'd been trying to seduce him was akin to saying the sky is falling. Total falsehood."

She looked up at the cerulean sky. "But the truth is, he hasn't touched me. We've shared one kiss, now two. But that is all. So there was truth in what I said. He's a man of character."

"That may be, but he still wants you."

She sucked in a breath. “Why are you here?"

"Ah, you want to avoid talk of the chief?"

She met his gaze with a hard one of her own. "Not your business, John. Instead, why don't you tell me how it is you're sitting here after a year of silence."

"I've been seeing a good therapist, and she helped me realize I've been grossly unfair to you. I never told you the truth about why I ended our relationship."

"It took a therapist for you to see what a shit you were? Why come all the way to Texas to tell me that?"

His face held no expression, but tenderness crept into his eyes. "Scarlet, your anger is not unexpected. I hurt you, but I want you to know I did it out of love."

"What a bunch of crap. This is a different version of 'It's not you, it's me."'

"No, I loved you. That's no lie. But, eventually I realized I held you back."

Her mouth dropped open. "Seriously? That's your excuse for dumping me after screwing my brains out the night before? You wanted to set me free?"

"Jesus, Scarlet."

"The truth isn't glossy and pretty."

"That's not accurate." He paused a moment. "Or maybe it's only half-accurate."

The silence pressed down on them. "I was sick, and I was scared."

''Sick? What do you mean?"

He sighed and clasped his hands between his open knees. "You remember that night in Central Park? We danced under the trees and talked about going to Italy."

“It was a beautiful night."

“It was,” he agreed with a nod of his head, his gaze on the yellow flowered bush across from them. “The next day I went to the doctor. I’d been having some pain in my ribs of all things, just nagging but wouldn’t go away. They ran some tests and found a mass. Bone cancer.”

"Oh, my God, John.” She reached for his hand. He allowed her to take it. “Why didn’t you tell me? I don’t-”

“I intended to.” He gave her a sad look. ”You met me at that coffeehouse, remember?"

How could she forget? She'd been wearing a new sundress, one she'd bought for their planned trip. Later, she'd stripped it off and thrown it into the trashcan. "I remember."

“You were brimming with plans. Hiking in Trentino. Dancing in Rome. You talked nonstop about everything we’d do, everything we’d eat. And I listened to you, watching at how beautiful you were. How young. Too young for an old man with cancer. You deserved better, and I didn’t want you to watch me grow ill from chemo or traipse around Manhattan with a shrunken, bald man."

Anger crept alongside the pity she felt for him. '"You didn’t give me a choice in the matter, did you? You broke things off and-"

“You’re right,” He interrupted her. “I didn't give you that choice. That was wrong.”

"You made me think I was unlovable. That's what you gave me. Not a choice. A death sentence to a woman who thought she was in love for the first time in her life."

"I wanted to save you from pain. From hurt. I thought I was doing something generous by setting you free.”

She plucked a blade of grass and tore it until little remained, much as John had done earlier. The bits scattered around her bare feet, a symbol of their relationship. Torn, scattered, never to be whole again. "But you weren't."

"That's why I came here. I needed to tell you. I thought I was being selfless, but Monica helped me see I wasn't being fair. You deserved the truth. You deserved to make your own decision about your life. I needed to fix things with you before I could move on in my life. So I came to Texas."

She nodded, her heart conflicted, a regular occurrence these days. She wanted to be angry, hold fast to the bitterness that had been her constant companion for many months. Somehow it didn't seem to matter as much as it had weeks ago. Somehow the gash in her heart had healed. “You were doing what you always did. Protecting me."

He slid his hand along her arm. At one time it would have warmed her, but now she felt nothing. "I always wanted the best for you."

She studied his tanned hand against the fairness of her skin. She'd loved him once. But no longer. Her heart had moved on before she even realized it, and filled itself with tender new feelings for Adam. "I can forgive you, John, because I no longer carry that burden of heartache. I won't lie. You hurt me, but I'm in a new place in my life. I won’t go back."

He dropped his hand and stared out at the dying vines clinging to the wooden fence a few feet from them. "I had hoped we might have a second chance. But if I go away with your forgiveness, I can live with that."

She didn't say anything more.

"So that guy. Is he the one who's helped you move on?" he asked eventually.

“I don’t know. He’s …something.”

"He doesn't have your passion."

'No, but he needs it."

John threw his head back and laughed, startling her.

"What? The man is a walking time bomb. You saw what happened when his emotions got the best of him. I gotta find his pressure value before he blows.” Scarlet grinned as she said it. Mostly because it was true.

"Don't ever change, love," he said, tenderness etched on his face.

She shook her head because she wouldn't. She was who she was, and nothing, not even love, could alter her.

They shared a peaceful moment, silent as what they’d once shared found its rest. Finally, John rose and held out a hand. "Shall we?"

She accepted his hand. "Your cancer? Are you better? Or..." She didn't want to think about John being worse.

"It's in remission for now."

"I'm glad to hear that. Life wouldn't be good without John Hammerstein in it."

He curled an arm around her, and she allowed him to hug her. "You are so special, Scarlet. They broke the mold when they made you."

She gave him a squeeze. "Thank you for finally telling me the truth."

"I will always be sorry I hurt you. Do know that I loved every minute of life when I was with you. And if this new fellow doesn't treat you like the queen you are, I will personally take him to task. Tan his hide."

Scarlet's lips twitched. "He already knows I'm a drama queen. I just hope he thinks I'm a risk worth taking."

"Well, if he doesn't, he's an idiot."

"I'm definitely not an idiot."

Scarlet and John turned toward the sound of Adam's voice. He stood next to a pecan tree.

John didn't acknowledge Adam. Instead he dropped a light kiss on her cheek. "If you ever need me, you know where to find me."

John walked toward the house, stopping to study Adam. For a moment, they looked like dogs squaring off over a soup bone. Might as well have hackles up and tails straight. But when John extended a hand toward Adam, he took it. "You've been handed a treasure. Don’t squander it."

Adam nodded but didn't respond. He released John's hand and approached Scarlet. A moment later they were alone, or as alone as two could be across the street from a town picnic. She could hear the shouts of children and the twang of a banjo in the background.

"You feeling okay?"

''As okay as a girl can be after taking a header into what I think was potato salad."

He didn't smile. Instead he studied her. She didn't wiggle under the duress of his regard, though she wanted to. It seemed every brush of his gaze weighed, measured, and dissected all that she was. And maybe spotted the mayonnaise coagulated near her temple.

"Your cover-up speech about trying to get me to kiss you didn't work. A blind man can see the truth.”

“But can you?"

His smooth forehead furrowed.

“See the truth?" she asked.

''All I know is we've spent the past few weeks avoiding everything we've felt for each other. I don’t think I can do that any longer.”

"But you have to." She had ten more hours of community service to fulfill before she was officially done with her obligation. Nothing had changed, yet everything had. He'd tossed aside his convictions in front of the community. Everyone in Oak Stand would be talking about the sheriff and the actress before the sun found its home that night.

"Well, I screwed that up when I kissed you in front of everyone. Cat’s out of the bag." He shrugged though she could sense disappointment in himself lacing his admission.

"We have to pretend it was what I tried to make it. Me toying with you. It’s the only solution. Then when I’m done with the play, I’ll leave town and everyone will forget all about it.”

"You really think we can hide this? You freaked out in the middle of the town picnic because I was on a date with a friend.”

“Friend? A friend doesn’t feed you pie. And you enjoyed it." Scarlet’s anger rose again at him. "I don’t mean to get so emotional. It’s just…ugh. I do.”

“That’s the thing. If this was just about sex, that would be easy. Well, not easy, but easier. I can deal with the fantasies I’m having a good part of the day.”

“Just a good part? Not every waking moment?''

“Fine. Even some sleeping ones."

"So what do we do?”

He rubbed a hand through his hair. It stretched the fabric of his polo shirt against his flat stomach. "Honestly, I don't know. I'm into you. You're into me. But-"

"There's always that, isn't there?"

There was a resigned look in his green eyes. "What I said about you not being what I'm looking for in a woman was wrong. I form these ideas in my head about what life should be, about who I should be, and I can't let them go. It's a coping mechanism for how I was raised. I judged you because you're sexy, because you seemed like a self-absorbed actress. I was wrong. You’re not that. And I’m not some character to be played.”

She turned away from him. She'd figured that out long ago, but his words still hurt.

Why did both he and John see her as less than what she was? John thought she was too immature to stick with him through his illness, so he gave up on her. And Adam had thought her too shallow to be worth loving. Sure, he'd corrected himself. But that didn't change the fact he'd tossed her into some category he'd created. This man thought he could label everything and everyone, and, though she hadn't yet reached the age of thirty, she'd learned long ago not to make assumptions. It was one rule her parents had hammered home. No boxes. No judging.

"You still make assumptions about me. You think you know me, and you don't. Not really. You can't create a perfect world or a perfect girl. Nor can you hide who you are beneath a badge. At some point, you have to accept life and people for who they are, including me."

“I know that. I know you’re right. I try do pros and cons on things and make good decisions, but you can’t make a list and-”

"Wait, did you make a pros and cons list about me? Oh, please tell me it wasn’t against the mayor’s daughter.” Outrage laced her words.

Adam swallowed hard. “Look, I get it. Sophie's good on paper. But I realize being good on paper doesn't mean being the right person for the job. It had to be a gut thing, and my gut tells me the right girl is standing here.”

She made a face. “This isn't a job interview, Adam."

"That's not what I meant."

She couldn't handle much more. The drama had been epic, but even a vampire queen had her limits. She looked down at the red leather iWatch on her wrist. "It's nearly two o'clock, and I promised Roz I would watch her granddaughter Mary Ellen sing."

"Mary Claire," he corrected.

"Whatever."

"But we're not finished." He reached out to stop her.

"We are for now." She sidestepped him."You better get back to your date. Who makes good pie. And is good on paper.”