Tycoon Meets Texan! Page 19

  Sam Jayce was younger than Lucien had expected but open and friendly, with a hearty handshake and enough politeness to temper his curiosity. As of yet, no steaks had been placed on the grill. In fact, he was just preparing to light the charcoal. “I thought about a gas grill,” he said, “but it’s just not the same, you know.”

  “Not at all,” Lucien agreed. “Is that hickory wood you’re adding?”

  “Mesquite.”

  “Ah.” Lucien sniffed a chunk of the wood. “I hope you’re using a light marinade.”

  “Hmm,” Sam said, rubbing his chin. “What would you suggest?”

  Lucien shrugged and considered. “Beer?”

  Sam grinned. “Wanna show me how it’s done?”

  “My pleasure.”

  They lit the charcoal, closed the lid and turned toward the house. The women were standing with their heads together, talking and watching. Avis smiled. He swept his fingers across her cheek as he passed her by.

  The Jayces had a great kitchen, and Sam threw open the cabinets, laying it at Lucien’s disposal as he talked about his family while Lucien began whipping up a beef marinade with spices pulled from the cabinet and a bottle of beer. Sam opened another for him to drink. He and Sierra were expecting their first child and were raising his twin sisters and Sierra’s daughter from another marriage. Lucien felt comfortable enough with this man to ask, “How old are you?”

  “Twenty-four.”

  “You’re very mature.”

  Sam shrugged. “Life’ll do that to you.”

  Luc nodded. “Yes, it will.” He jerked a head toward the window over the sink. “Suppose you tell me about those flowers.”

  Sam was still telling him about those flowers when the guests of honor arrived, followed quickly by about a dozen other people, including a number of firefighters. Avis made a point of introducing him to a fit, ponytailed mother of two teenagers who treated him to a frank appraisal and finally announced, “Well, I knew he had to be something special.”

  “Thank you,” he said, liking this blunt-spoken Gwyn immediately. In fact, he liked all of Avis’s friends.

  Sierra was warm and earthy, a little older than her obviously besotted husband. Sam stood up well next to Ian Keene, who was a big, commanding fellow, a man’s man, so to speak, and a husband who couldn’t seem to keep his eyes or his hands off his pert little wife. Something about Val made Lucien want to laugh. Maybe it was the quirky bleached hair or the body-hugging clothes that delineated every curve, including her bulging belly, with brash celebration. Or maybe it was the way she looked at her husband as if she could eat him.

  The gathering was unlike any party he’d ever attended and yet, exactly the same. The attendees laughed and talked in constantly reconstituting groups, though the women generally fluttered around a cake and punch bowl while the men gravitated to a bag of potato chips and a cooler of beer. Cards broke out, and while the women opened and gushed over the gifts in the other room, Lucien amassed a huge pile of chips. None of the other men seemed to mind. It was all for fun, but when it came time for the steaks to go onto the grill and Sam asked for Luc’s help with the cooking, the others sent him on his way with friendly cracks about how he must have amassed his fortune and how kind he was to leave the cheesy prizes for them.

  “One must be mindful of one’s duty to the cheesy,” he quipped with a wink, and departed to hoots and laughter.

  “Hey, you’re all right,” Sam announced as they walked away from the game table. He smacked Luc in the chest with the back of his hand as he spoke.

  “Thanks,” Luc replied dryly, and oddly enough it was one of the proudest moments of his very privileged and very experienced life.

  Avis glanced at Lucien and Sam, standing side by side in front of an enormous grill, flipping steaks. Luc had donned one of Sam’s white bib aprons, and the two appeared to be carrying on a laughing conversation. She shared a look with Sierra.

  “Who’d have thought one of the richest men on earth would be so comfortable with my farmer husband and vice versa?”

  Avis just smiled. Val, who had gone nuts over the fireman teddy bear and the tiny matching outfit, had her own comment. “Ian says he’s a killer poker player and easily today’s big winner, but that he’s a good sport, too.”

  Avis was not surprised. In a very real sense, Lucien Tyrone played poker for a living. He gambled big on every enterprise and more often than not won big, big enough that the whole world knew how good he was at the game. The surprise was how well he seemed to fit in here. Oh, he was out of place to be sure, but he seemed content in that company and they in his. She felt gratified and not a little smug, to her own embarrassment.

  When everyone else had been served their steaks, she accompanied Luc to the buffet spread out on a pair of rectangular picnic tables in the center of the huge deck. He clearly did not know what some of the dishes were, but he sampled a bit of everything and piled onto his plate whatever took his fancy, then they claimed one of the last chairs and briefly argued over who would sit in it. She finally plopped herself down on the deck, folded her legs, balanced her disposable plate on her knees and proceeded to eat. Luc took the chair with a sigh, and before she knew what was happening, he was back at the buffet refilling his plate.

  He pronounced himself stuffed some time later and sprawled in the sloping Adirondack-style chair with his eyes closed. Avis leaned against his leg, listening to the ebb and flow of conversation around her until it was deemed time to cut the cake. She brought him a piece, and found him in conversation with Ian about the latter’s duties as fire marshal. He smiled at her and patted the arm of his chair, so she perched herself there. He took a couple bites of the cake, then handed the plate back to her. She polished off the remainder while listening to Ian describe the heavy equipment owned and employed by his department. Luc seemed engrossed.

  Gradually, the party began to break up in dribs and drabs, until only the guests of honor, their hosts, Luc, Avis and Gwyn remained, sitting beneath the stars with drinks in hand and full bellies. The girls had gone off to play under the watchful eyes of Gwyn’s teenagers.

  “I have some interesting news,” Ian announced presently. “Heston Witt has resigned as mayor.”

  This was greeted by gasps. Lucien flicked a crumb of something off his jeaned thigh but said nothing.

  Sierra and Sam leaned against the deck railing behind the chair that Ian had dragged over next to Luc’s. Sierra lifted her head from Sam’s shoulder. “Sweet heaven, you don’t suppose we’re actually shed of that vindictive worm, do you?”

  “Could be,” Gwyn said. “I heard he’s sold the ranch.”

  “No kidding?” Sam exclaimed, his arms wrapped around Sierra’s thickening waist. “I always figured he’d have to break it up in little pieces and sell it off over the years. Who would’ve bought the whole thing?”

  Who indeed? Avis felt a jolt of certainty. She laid her hand on Lucien’s shoulder. He covered it with his own but did not meet her gaze. Instead, he cleared his throat and addressed Sam’s question. “Someone willing to wager that a cheap parcel of land that size could be a good investment.”

  It was all the confirmation she needed. Shocked, she asked, “How cheap?”

  He finally met her gaze. “Cheap enough to be a bargain but still allow the mayor to retire to the Gulf coast in some comfort.”

  “You bought it!” Val exclaimed.

  Lucien said nothing, just held Avis’s gaze. His lack of denial was taken for confirmation.

  “You interested in ranching?” Ian asked.

  “Not particularly,” Lucien replied, “but I am interested in making a home around here.”

  Avis felt her chest tighten. Tears welled into her eyes. Was there no end to what this man would do for her? She had never even imagined this kind of love, his kind of love, but now she was through with doubts and foolish fears. She was ready to grab happiness with both hands.

  “Luc and I are getting married,” she announced, loo
king into his dark eyes.

  All the air rushed out of his lungs in a great whoosh, and he hauled her off the arm of his chair and onto his lap, kissing her face, burying his in the curve of her neck.

  “I love you,” he whispered.

  “I know.”

  He lifted his head. “I’ll never cage you, I swear. You’ll make your own decisions, have your own life, whatever you need.”

  She covered his mouth with her fingertips. “I know.”

  “I’ll build you a big house right in the middle of all that land.”

  “And put a fence around it,” she added.

  “And keep you chained to the bed until you give me babies,” he warned with a broad grin.

  She cast a sly, pleased look around. “Rubbed off on you, have they?”

  He shook his head. “No, that was you, but they certainly make an excellent argument for wedded bliss and parenthood, don’t they?”

  “They certainly do.” She glanced at Sierra and added, “Sometimes too good.” She looped her arms around his neck then and promised, “I’ll be a good mother, whatever that takes. Oh, and I’ll also put up with yours.”

  He reared his head back and laughed in great, ringing shouts. “Now that’s true love!”

  “It certainly is,” she agreed wryly.

  Grinning so broadly that it must have hurt, he stood with her in his arms, and was instantly mobbed by the three other women present. They hugged and laughed and gushed delight over the engagement. It was Gwyn, though, whose tears most moved Avis. She wrapped one arm around her friend’s neck and held on tight. When she finally pulled back, a silent message passed between them. Of the four friends who had struggled so to make their livings in that decrepit little strip mall on the edge of Puma Springs, only Gwyn had not inherited, and only Gwyn remained alone. It felt terribly unfair to Avis, but Gwyn was strong, and her delight for Avis shone in her eyes.

  Luc took that opportunity to say to the group at large, “Good evening, friends. It’s been great, but we’re going home now.”

  Avis shocked herself by waggling an eyebrow suggestively at her friends, and knowing laughter erupted. As Luc carried her across the deck, Sam called out teasingly, “Hey, you forgot your poker chips.”

  “Keep them, with my compliments.”

  “You forgot your prize, too,” Sierra said.

  “No, I didn’t,” Luc said, looking down at Avis.

  She curled her arms around his neck and said, “I do love you.”

  “I cannot doubt it,” he replied, quickly taking the steps down to the ground, “but I’ll let you prove it to me just the same.”

  Laughing happily, she felt light as air, no longer encumbered by regret or uncertainty. An image flashed before her mind’s eye: Edwin Searle, gnarled and bent, a cowboy hat clasped in one hand, the other clasping that of his beloved wife. They looked at one another, and then they looked down, and Edwin nodded with satisfaction. Avis imagined that they were looking down from the clouds on her and Luc, and her heart swelled with gratitude and joy. Sure and brave, she let herself be carried into the future on a wave of pure love.

  ISBN: 978-1-4592-2923-5

  TYCOON MEETS TEXAN!

  Copyright © 2004 by Deborah Rather

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