“Probably from the beginning, Reede.” He raised his head and gave her an appraising look. “You were right, all of you. This investigation was self-serving. I used it and the people involved to prove my grandmother wrong.” She drew a shaky breath. “It’s too late for Celina to rectify her mistakes, but I can certainly do something about mine.”
She inclined her head toward the nearby grave, the older, overgrown one, which now had a single red rose lying at the base of the headstone. “Did you put that there?”
Reede looked across the two fresh graves toward Celina’s. “I thought Junior would like sharing a flower with her. You know how he felt about the ladies.” It was healthy that he could smile when he said it.
“You know, I didn’t realize that this was the Minton family plot until the funeral the other day. Mother would like that, being here with him.”
“And he’s where he always wanted to be. Near Celina, with nobody between them.”
Emotion welled up in Alex’s throat and eyes. “Poor Stacey. She never had a chance with Junior, did she?”
“No woman did. For all his philandering, Junior was a one-woman man.”
By tacit agreement, they turned and started down the hill toward their cars.
“Was it your idea for Stacey to move into the ranch house for a while?” Alex asked, as she picked her way across the grass.
He seemed reluctant to admit it. An affirmative rolling motion of his shoulders was all he gave her for an answer.
“That was a thoughtful suggestion, Reede. She and Angus will be good for each other.” The late judge’s daughter would never feel kindly toward her, but Alex understood and could forgive her animosity.
“Stacey needs somebody to fuss over,” Reede said, “and Angus needs that kind of attention right now.”
Having reached her car, Alex turned to him and asked huskily, “What about you? Who’ll fuss over you?”
“I’ve never needed it.”
“Oh, yes, you have,” she said, “you just never let anybody.” She took a step closer to him. “Are you going to let me leave town, walk out of your life, without making any effort to stop me?”
“Yes.”
She regarded him with love and frustration. “Okay, I’ll tell you what, Reede. I’ll just go on loving you for as long as I live, and you just go on resisting it.” It was spoken as a dare. “See how long you can hold out.”
He angled back his head and gauged the determination in her posture, her voice, her eyes. “You’re too big for your britches, you know that?”
Her responding smile was tremulous. “You love me, Reede Lambert. I know you love me.”
The wind lifted the tawny hair on his head as he nodded slowly. “Yeah, I do. You’re a pain in the ass, but I love you.” He cursed beneath his breath. “That still doesn’t change anything.”
“Like what?”
“Like our ages. I’ll get old and die long before you, you know.”
“Does that matter today—this very minute?”
“It sure as hell should.”
“It doesn’t.”
Infuriated by her calm logic, he crammed his fist into his opposite palm. “God, you’re persistent.”
“Yes, I am. When I want something badly enough, when I feel that it’s right, I never give up.”
For several long moments he stared at her, at war with himself. He was being offered love, but he was afraid to accept it. Then, swearing liberally, he grabbed a handful of dark auburn hair and pulled her toward him.
He reached inside her coat, where she was warm and soft and giving. “You make a damn strong argument, Counselor,” he growled.
Backing her into the side of her car, he touched her heart, her belly, then placed a hand on her hip and bowed her body against his. He kissed her with passion and love and something he’d always had very little of—hope.