McKettricks of Texas: Austin. Linda Lael Miller
off into three connecting squares, all the same size but distinctly separate.
Now, those rooms were gone, too, making up the wide corridor. Only the long row of tall windows remained.
Austin shoved a hand through his hair as he entered his own part of the house. The kitchen, living room and master suite were on that floor, while an office and two guest rooms shared the third with a huge attic.
Like Tate and Garrett, Austin had his own stairway.
God forbid they should have to share one.
Bleakly, he wandered to the windows, gazed out over the range, toward the main road. No question about it—he wanted to see headlights, and not just any headlights, either. He was looking for Paige’s car.
No sign of it, though.
He finally turned away, took in the stark simplicity of his living room and longed for the old days, when things had been different. When the folks were alive and they’d lived like a family, not a bunch of strangers.
The Silver Spur ranch house had been just that, a house, before the folks died; a big one, granted, but still a family home, with one kitchen, one living room, one dining room.
One turkey at Thanksgiving.
One tree at Christmas.
Now, it was more like a grand hotel, or an apartment building.
It sure as hell wasn’t a home anymore. Nobody really lived there; they were all just passing through, doing their own thing, on their way to somewhere else.
* * *
PAIGE WOKE UP late the next morning, having tossed and turned until all hours. Glancing at the bedside clock, she gasped, threw back the covers, and leaped out of bed. She showered quickly, put on black slacks and a simple white blouse, gave each of her cheeks a pass with the blush brush, and sped out into the kitchen.
Garrett and Austin were there, Garrett drinking coffee and reading a newspaper at the table, Austin leaning indolently against one of the counters, wearing nothing but a pair of rag-bag sweatpants, a case of bedhead and an obnoxious grin.
Shep, wolfing down kibble from a bowl nearby, spared her a glance but went right on eating.
“Did Julie leave already?” Paige asked. “I was supposed to drive Calvin to school this morning—”
Garrett smiled easily and rose from his chair, remained standing until Paige waved him back into his seat. “Julie didn’t want to wake you,” he said. “She took Calvin over to Libby and Tate’s to ride the school bus to town later on with the twins.”
Paige was aware of Austin at the periphery of her vision, lounging like he had nothing better to do than stand around in the kitchen on a weekday morning.
And maybe he didn’t.
“Have some coffee,” Austin said in an easy drawl that brought back all sorts of sensory memories, all of which were purely physical. “There’s no hurry now, is there?”
Garrett glanced back at his brother, and something passed between them, though Paige had no idea what.
“All right,” Paige said.
Austin moved to the coffeemaker, filled a mug, brought it to Paige. His hair was a mess. His chest was bare. His sweatpants were in disreputable shape.
And just looking at him made Paige wish she were lying flat on her back in his bed, instead of standing in a kitchen awash in morning light.
“Thanks,” she said out loud, taking the mug he offered.
“Guess I’d better throw on some clothes,” he said without the least trace of self-consciousness in either his tone or his manner. “As Dad always said, we’re burnin’ daylight.”
Paige didn’t respond. She couldn’t have responded, because her throat had closed.
With a nod, Austin left, heading up his set of stairs, the dog trotting behind him.
Garrett stood up again, gestured for Paige to take a seat.
She slumped onto the bench, curled both hands around the mug.
Garrett sank back into his chair. “Are you all right?” he asked.
Paige, realizing that she’d clenched her eyes shut, opened them and drummed up a smile. “Yes,” she said. “But Julie was counting on me to look after Calvin and I overslept and—”
“Calvin is fine,” Garrett said, covering her hand with his very briefly.
Paige sighed, and with the outward thrust of her breath, her shoulders relaxed. She felt the familiar rush of love for her only nephew; she could not have loved Calvin more if he’d been her own child.
Garrett cleared his throat subtly, and glanced toward the stairs Austin and Shep had mounted only moments before.
“Tate and I were wondering...” he began. But then his voice fell away, and he looked strangely shy for a man whose self-confidence seemed to rise from the cellular level.
“What?” she asked. God knew it had complicated her life when Libby and Tate had fallen in love and, soon after that, Garrett and Julie. Austin was their brother; it would, of course, be almost impossible to avoid coming into contact with him on a fairly regular basis.
Still, Paige liked her future brothers-in-law, and she was certainly glad they were making her sisters so happy.
Garrett scooted his chair in a little closer to the table. Lowered his voice, even though Austin was nowhere in sight and couldn’t possibly have overheard.
“Julie says you’re between jobs right now,” he ventured carefully.
Paige felt a brief sting of embarrassment; she’d worked since high school and being unemployed was new to her. Fortunately, the feeling passed quickly.
“I guess you could say that,” she said with a little smile. If Julie had confided that her sister was “between jobs,” she’d explained the circumstances, too, but Paige saw no reason to point that out. “I was supposed to replace one of the nurses at Blue River Clinic—Alice was planning on enlisting in the Navy. There was some kind of hitch, though, and it will be another few months before she starts her training.”
The expression in Garrett’s McKettrick-blue eyes was kind.
He and Tate, Paige realized with a start, would be the brothers she’d never had. They had already accepted her as part of the family, and they would look out for her, if only because they loved her sisters.
Her throat ached with an emotion she was glad she didn’t have to define, because there were no words for it.
Garrett gave her a few moments to recover before he tried to continue. He said his younger brother’s name, hoarsely, and then faltered.
“Go on,” Paige said very quietly.
“Austin—needs help. He’s never going to admit that, though.”
Paige nodded, waited. She knew Austin better than most people did, and nothing Garrett had said so far surprised her.
Garrett sighed again, thrust a hand through his dark-blond hair. “We—Tate and I, that is—think there ought to be somebody around to sort of keep an eye on Austin when none of us are around, just in case—”
She didn’t speak, hoping the conclusion she’d just jumped to was wrong.
“Austin needs a nurse,” Garrett finally said, and his tone was decisive.
“A nurse,” Paige repeated dully. “Garrett, tell me you’re not suggesting that I—”
Garrett merely smiled and raised one eyebrow ever so slightly.
Paige swallowed. “Don’t you think that would be a little—well—awkward?”
“Awkward?”