A Diamond In The Rough. Catherine Mann
launching an acrid tint to the night breeze? “But after what she set up for Stone, I’m not hopeful mine will make sense. I’m just trying to protect us all.”
Johanna thumbed a knotty circle on the armrest. “How is talking to me going to accomplish that?”
“You’re the only one who has ever come close to getting through the walls Stone puts around himself. I just hope you’ll make sure he’s okay.”
Johanna sat up straighter. “Excuse me?”
“Be sure he doesn’t crack up over this.”
“Crack up? Stone? He’s rock-solid—no pun intended.”
Amie clamped Johanna’s arm in a surprisingly strong grip. “I’m worried about him, okay? He doesn’t have a support system like I do. My brother and I can tell each other everything. Stone is our family, but he’s never let himself get close to us. And I’m worried about him right now.”
There was no denying the sincerity in her voice.
“That’s really sweet of you.” Johanna felt bad for assuming the worst. “I do care about Stone, even though we can’t be together. He’s a strong man. He will grieve for Mariah—we all will—but he will haul himself through. He always does.”
Even as she said it, she couldn’t ignore a niggling voice in the back of her mind reminding her that Stone’s childhood had been very different from her own or that of his twin cousins. His grandmother had been his only bedrock of support.
Amie’s hand slid away. “Just keep what I said in mind. That’s all I ask.” Cradling her cat in her arms, she stood. “Good night and good luck with your trip.”
“Thank you...” She had a feeling she would need luck and more to get through the coming week. She needed a plan and stronger boundaries to protect her heart.
“Anytime,” Amie called over her shoulder as strolled down the steps as though she were taking a runway scene by storm, leaving her shoes behind, her other cat following her into the night.
Scooping up her junk mail, Johanna shoved to her feet. She needed to start packing now if she wanted any chance of getting to bed at a reasonable time. Not that she expected to sleep much with her brain whirling a million miles an hour.
She’d tried to make this place her own, with everything from sunflowers in the front yard to a quilted wreath on the door. Hokey? Maybe. But she’d dreamed of hokey and normal as a kid listening to the rain rattling along the tin roof of their trailer.
She pushed her way inside. The scent of freshly waxed floors and flowers greeted her, but not even a cat or dog of her own. So many times she’d wondered why she never chose a pet for herself, just took care of other people’s....
Wait.
Her nose twitched.
Waxed floors and...flowers? She didn’t have any inside, not even a floral air freshener.
Patting along the wall, she found the switch and flipped on the light. A wagon wheel chandelier splashed illumination around the room full of fat stuffed furniture in paisley patterns, a girly escape for a tomboy in a dusty, mucky profession. She spun to scan the room, her eyes landing on her shabby chic sofa.
Where a man was sprawled out asleep.
Her gaze skated from the boots on the armrest, up muscular legs in jeans, past a Diamonds in the Rough belt buckle, to broad shoulders in a blue flannel shirt. For a second, she thought Stone had followed her here. A straw cowboy hat covered the man’s face as he snored softly.
Although once she looked closer, she realized it wasn’t Stone at all. It was his near twin. His cousin Alex was asleep on her sofa, with a fistful of wild daisies on his chest.
As she saw him waiting there for her, she couldn’t help but think, Amie and Alex didn’t tell each other everything.
Johanna swept the cowboy hat from Alex’s face. “What are you doing in my house?”
He peeked out of one eye lazily, scrubbed a hand over his face and yawned. Stretching, he sat up, keeping his hold on the daisies, apparently in no hurry to answer her question.
Alex rarely rushed. Yet he always seemed to get crazy amounts done. He was a fascinating individual, like all the McNairs. And while he’d been in her cabin often, she hadn’t expected to see him here tonight.
“Well?” She hitched her hands on her hips. “Do you have anything to say for yourself? I locked the door, so you’re breaking and entering.”
“As your landlord,” he drawled, his voice like Southern Comfort on the rocks, smooth with a bite. Stone spoke in more clipped, bass tones—like boulders rumbling. “I used my master key. I own the place.”
She’d known Alex as long as she’d known Stone. She’d met all of the McNairs when her father took a stable hand job here during Johanna’s third-grade year. Where Stone was the outgoing, bad-boy charmer, Alex had been the brooding, silent type, a tenacious rodeo champ even as a kid, breaking more bones by eighteen than any pro football star.
After she’d ended her engagement to Stone, she’d realized Alex’s resolute nature had hidden a longtime attraction to her. Six months after the split, Alex had made his move by asking her out to dinner. She’d been stunned—and not ready to consider dating anyone. He’d taken the news well. Or so she’d thought. She was beginning to grasp how persistent, patient and downright stubborn this quiet giant could be.
With that in mind, she should have realized their grandmother’s plan would not go over well with Alex. “Even though you own my rental cabin, I didn’t realize landlords slept on the sofa,” she joked, needing to keep things light. Her emotional well was running on empty. “Do you have a specific reason for being here?”
“I’m making sure you don’t fall under my evil cousin’s spell again.” He swung his legs to the floor and thrust out the fistful of daisies.
Roots straggled from a couple of the stems. He definitely was a unique one with a charm all his own. At another time in her life she might have been tempted.
She took the daisies from him. “You’re trying to persuade me by giving me flowers?”
“Consider it elaborate bribery,” he said with a self-deprecating grin directed at the raggedy bouquet.
“You stole them out of the garden by the back deck,” she shot over her shoulder as she stepped into the kitchen area to get a large mason jar.
“The garden belongs to me.”
“To your family.” She slid the flowers into the jar and tucked it under the faucet.
“Same thing.” His smile faded. “Are you okay with this trip?”
“Your concern is sweet and I do mean that.” She smiled, then jerked as water overflowed from the jar and splashed onto her hand.
“My motives are purer than Amie’s were out there on the porch.”
“You heard her?”
“I did, since you always leave your windows open rather than use the air conditioner.” He stretched his legs out in front of him, crossing his boots at the ankles as he extended his arms along the back of the couch. “You would be wise to remember she’s the most ruthless of all of us.”
“That’s not a very nice thing to say.” She placed the flowers on the end table by the floral sofa, a perfect match for the rustic charm of her place.
“I only mean that you’re my friend.” He reached for her hand and tugged her down to sit beside him. “You and Amie don’t have that kind of relationship. She’s thinking of the family. I’m worried about you.”