The Promise of Rayne Read online

  Travis stopped to count, shot out a number, and then ran his mouth some more. “Some blond chick was talking from there this morning, but it only got interesting when the reporter interviewed Rayne . . .” He grinned, then spit. “Now that woman can turn some heads. All sweet and innocent looking while she made that plea for a food drive—”

  Levi stiffened, certain he’d heard wrong. “A food drive?”

  “I think that’s what she was saying, although I had a hard time focusing on her words. Girl has some distractingly beautiful—”

  “What exactly did she ask for?” Levi tossed his medieval weaponry aside, shutting Travis down before he could take that sentence a breath farther.

  His friend’s expression remained irritatingly passive. “Like I said, I can’t be sure. But I think she was after food donations for the shelter. Aren’t you watching the news?”

  “No.” Not if he could help it, although Ford rarely missed a night.

  Levi ripped his hand from his glove and scrubbed at his sweat-slicked face. Hadn’t he offered to donate food to the shelter? Hadn’t he asked her to let him help?

  “Man, you’re moody.”

  “Am not.”

  “You are. And you’ve been this way since the night at BlackTail when you left your jackpot on the poker table.”

  Levi anchored his shoulder on a freshly stacked wall of hay. “Must have been rough—keeping all that cold cash to yourself.”

  “We split it.”

  “Sure you did.”

  Travis laughed and then whistled to the driver to stop. He grabbed two cold Gatorades from the cab of the truck and tossed one up to Levi. “So what, then, you done with us? No more blue-collar games for such a sophisticated entrepreneur like yourself?”

  Levi crinkled his brows at the title and hopped off the back of the truck onto the brittle ground. “Sophisticated entrepreneur? Where’d you hear that?”

  “I’ve heard lots lately.”

  “Like?”

  “Like how you’ve been sniffing around the Shelbys, collecting their business contacts the way we used to pick pockets.”

  “I’m not sniffing anywhere. And any client I’ve acquired has been aboveboard.” Almost.

  “So what’s happening between you and Rayne is aboveboard too, then?”

  A storm brewed in his chest. “You were baiting me.”

  “Levi Harding would never leave a jackpot on the table during a high-stakes poker game unless he had a better incentive. I saw you go after her that night, remember? And the next thing I knew, your truck was gone and so was she.”

  Travis’s accusation had substance, he’d give him that much. But out of respect for Rayne, he wouldn’t admit to anything more. Not even to his oldest friend. Telling Ford was one thing. But telling Travis? Might as well take out an ad in the town’s gossip column. “That’s a stretch. Even for you.”

  Travis lounged against the trailer tire and crossed his ankles, as if the blazing heat made for comfortable conversation. “I’ve drunk the water, Harding. Tasted the Shelby allure firsthand, and I’m telling you, it’s not worth it.”

  “And there it is. I knew you’d find a way to wiggle her into this conversation. I swear, the drama between you and Gia has more lives than an accident-prone cat. Let it die, Trav.”

  “Maybe you should take your own advice.”

  Levi guffawed at the absurdity of this discussion. In no way was his relationship with Rayne even close to the same situation. “Gia’s the sheriff’s daughter, although I shouldn’t have to remind you of that since he was also your arresting officer.”

  “Oh, and your past mistakes are so much prettier than mine.”

  “Never said that.” He’d been an idiot plenty of times in his youth; he just hadn’t been dumb enough to get caught sneaking into the sheriff’s house to visit a certain fiery female after curfew. It was shortly after his friend’s run-in with the law that Ford had asked Levi to start accounting for his hours spent off the farm, a stipulation he’d created for free housing in addition to his monthly paycheck, a stipulation that managed to keep Levi—and Travis, by default—from many nights of stupid.

  “You’ll have a bounty on your head the size of Texas if you get caught with Rayne—arrest record or not. Guilty or not. All those scriptures Ford quotes about grace and forgiveness and loving your enemies . . . well, the Shelbys don’t subscribe to his same stance on God or faith. Believe me.”

  “There’s nothing going on with me and Rayne.” The lie wasn’t seamless. His voice was off, his words too sharp, but he didn’t need his friend to believe him. He just needed the subject buried.

  Travis eyed him for several seconds before he turned his attention back to the field, a smile on his face. “Well, that’s good to hear. You know me, I hate saying I told you so.”

  About as much as he hated a royal flush.

  Levi downed the rest of his drink and tossed the empty bottle into the flatbed. “Come on, let’s finish this thing up.”

  Travis waved him off. “Nah, there’s not much left to do. I got the rest. You should head home and take a shower. You stink.”

  “You don’t smell any better. Trust me. You sure?”

  “I’m sure.” Travis laughed. “I asked for a couple hours of help, and you’ve been out here all day. Get going already.”

  “If you need something else, call me.” Levi stripped his cotton T-shirt over his head, his damp skin instantly relieved.

  “Will do. See ya.”

  As Travis trotted into the field, gesturing for the young driver to roll ahead, Levi pulled his phone from the back pocket of his jeans. On the way back to his truck, he scrolled through his missed messages and notifications. He stopped on a single text delivered just fifteen minutes ago.

  His pulse kicked into high gear at the mere sight of her name.

  Rayne: You home? I’m free for a bit.

  Levi stood in his open doorway and committed the sight of her to memory.

  “Hi.” Her shy greeting shot a bullet through his earlier resolve and crippled whatever confrontation he’d prepared to have with her about media pleas and food donations.

  Rayne was here. In his house. Wearing her glasses.

  And the girl took sexy to another stratosphere in those glasses.

  She lifted a plate off the counter and moved toward him, her eyes flickering briefly to his bare chest. Her boldness—sneaking over this late in the afternoon, waiting inside his empty house, bringing him something to eat after a day of laboring in the sun—awakened every physical desire he’d suppressed for weeks. Rayne’s cropped white pants and satiny turquoise blouse swished in time with her hips, tempting him beyond the smell of the baked goods lingering in the air. Every inch of his skin seemed to buzz at her nearness.

  “I brought you cookies,” she said, the slightest hitch of hesitation in her voice. “Only I wasn’t sure which kind was your favorite, so I just chose an assortment of Delia’s best.”

  “Oatmeal.” The hoarse word scraped over his dry tongue and he cleared his throat, suddenly desperate for water. Preferably ice-cold water. “I like oatmeal.” But who was he kidding? He’d eat tree bark if she’d brought it for him.

  “Good to know.” She smiled then, her gaze lingering in a way that made his every muscle ignite.

  “You have hay in your hair.” When she reached her hand out, he practically leapt backward. Six hours of blazing heat and cramped hands had stripped his mental inhibitions bare. If he allowed her to touch him now . . .

  He tugged at the back of his neck and then raked a hand through his hair. “How ’bout I take a quick shower and then we can . . . we can . . .” His brain tracked through the limited list of options at snail speed. “Talk.”

  “Okay.” She nodded. “Go take a shower and I’ll pour you a glass of cold milk. I have a little over an hour before I need to head back for dinner.”

  He was down the hallway with the door closed behind him before his mind could register she’d e
ven spoken.

  Ten minutes. He hadn’t taken longer than ten minutes to rinse, towel off, and dress, but Rayne’s propped elbow and heavy eyelids told a different story. How poorly had she been sleeping? He knew her workload at the shelter kept her days full, but the purplish tint under her eyes and the tired sag of her shoulders made him wonder about the schedule she was keeping at night. Why was she pushing herself so hard? What more was she trying to prove?

  A tall glass of milk and a plate of cookies sat atop the stacked pallets doubling as a coffee table. He sank into the cushion beside her, placing his one and only throw pillow onto his lap before sliding her glasses off. On a yawn, she accepted his invitation and repositioned her body, her head resting atop the pillow.

  She inhaled deeply. “You smell nice.”

  He smiled at the tired slur of her words. “Not nearly as nice as you.”

  “It’s the cookies.”

  “No.” He kicked out his legs and relaxed against the back of the sofa. “It’s you.”

  She tipped her face to him and chuckled softly. “What do I smell like?”

  “Summertime.”

  She curled her legs onto the cushion beside her and yawned again. “With all the smoke, I can’t even remember what summer smells like anymore.”

  He stroked the silky strands of her hair, mesmerized by the feel and the shine. “Like every flower’s in bloom all at once.”

  Her lips curved and his hand stilled. Travis hadn’t been wrong about her—Rayne’s smile could drop a man to his knees. And unlike many of the women he’d known, she hadn’t a clue how alluring she was. Her hair. Her eyes. Her smile. That dimple in her chin.

  All of it. All of her.

  But just beneath the surface of this perfectly packaged Shelby lived a quality, a passion, a selfless kind of beauty that could only be uncovered with time. He smoothed a lock of her hair off her cheek and studied the slender curve of her neck, the shapely ridge of her collarbones. With the lightest of touches, he grazed the tender skin behind her ear, trailing his finger to the arch of her eyebrow. He’d known of her most of his adult life. But he’d only known her—the heart behind the name—for a month. A single month. And yet, in much the same way Ford’s faith and generosity had impacted his life nine years ago, the sweetness of Rayne’s spirit was already reshaping him. Changing his wants, his dreams, his desires to something he hadn’t known existed until now.

  Who would he be in a year with Rayne in his life? In two? In twenty?

  “You’re gonna make me fall asleep for real.” She tried to push up to her elbow, but he denied her efforts.

  “Good.”

  “No, not good. I have too much to do. I can’t stay.”

  “Yes, you can.”

  “I need to manage the dinner lines. They can get crazy. It’s easier when I’m there to hold the children’s plates for their parents. I should—”

  “Let me take care of you.” He touched her forehead, pressing out the worry lines with his thumb. “You’re always so busy taking care of everybody else, managing everybody else. For once, let somebody take care of you. Let me take care of you.”

  He’d expected her to put up more of a fight, a detailed argument outlining all the reasons why she couldn’t leave the shelter unattended for a few more hours. But instead, her shoulders relaxed. Within minutes, her breathing deepened, her body yielding to the persuasion of sleep.

  There’d been so little resistance to her surrender.

  The same could be said of him.

  As he studied her tranquil face, he curled a strand of her hair around his finger and said a prayer he hoped God would answer soon. Whoever had caused this sleeping beauty to believe she needed to be anything more than who she was right now deserved to be throttled.

  Because Rayne Shelby was more than enough.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  A cocoon of blissful sleep enveloped her mind and body. Levi’s touch had lulled her into a dreamless place where peace smelled like dusty work boots and minty soap.

  She uncurled her legs and pointed her toes to stretch her calves, her eyes opened only a crack. Just enough to watch the shadows of dusk play across the empty cookie plate and milk glass. Nightfall. He should have woken her. Yet the moment she thought it, she could hear the plea of his words again, could feel the dip in her stomach. Let me take care of you.

  She slung an arm over her eyes, her cloudy mind emerging slowly from slumber. She patted the cushion with her free hand. Levi’s legs were no longer beneath her. She couldn’t blame him for repositioning. She’d comforted a sleeping toddler a few nights ago, and within thirty minutes her arms had morphed into dead-weight appendages.

  Thankfully, Levi hadn’t gone far. Even if she hadn’t seen the toes of his work boots peeking from between the slats of the coffee table, she could sense his presence. A presence she would thank momentarily. And not with a plate of cookies this time. With a kiss.

  “Perhaps I should hire you to help me fall asleep every night.” She yawned and reached for her glasses on the sofa arm. “What time is it?”

  “Just after eight.”

  Every cell in her body tensed, her mind suddenly wide awake.

  That voice did not belong to Levi.

  Her leap from the sofa and guarded about-face took only a second, yet her recognition of a man she hadn’t seen up close for over a decade was instantaneous.

  Ford Winslow.

  “Hello, Rayne.” The crackle in his voice shook her—everywhere. He remained seated yet lifted a hand that matched his worn appearance. “I’m sorry to startle you. That wasn’t my intention.”

  “Where’s Levi?” Her eyes darted around the room in a manic frenzy.

  “He’s not here.”

  Where was he? Why would he do this? Why would he leave her alone with this man? She couldn’t stop the twitching in her arms or the pounding in her chest. Her gaze fixated on the exit beyond Ford’s chair. The front door beckoned to her. Would he try to block her if she ran past him?

  “I’d invite you to have a glass of iced tea with me, but I’m guessing you’re about five seconds from darting past my chair and out that door.”

  She said nothing, her jaw as frozen as her stare. Had he expected this invasion to be anything less than disorienting?

  On a sigh, he clasped his hands together and leaned forward. “I realize you don’t know me anymore, but—”

  “Yes, I do. I know you.” Her fear transformed into something solid. Something indignant. Something she’d never been given the freedom to voice aloud. Before now. “You stole this farm from my grandfather. Eighteen years ago.”

  His gaze held steady, unblinking. “I loved your grandfather.”

  Disgust filled her every sense, becoming a taste, a smell, a sound pulsing in her ears. “You don’t cheat the people you love or the people they love.” The accusations and allegations of her father, her aunt, her uncle stacked up inside her like a tower of building blocks. Years of hateful word darts she’d had nowhere to aim. “You robbed a wonderful man. A man who trusted you, a man who gave you his time and money and heart. And you repaid him by robbing his family? That is the opposite of love.”

  Again, he didn’t react to the bitter assault of her statements. No flinch, no wince, no cringe. Was the man so used to being hated? Had he so willingly accepted his fate as a soulless monster?

  “He used to call you his Little Blue Jay. Your hair was so dark when you were born it had this brilliant blue hue around it. Almost like a halo.”

  “Who told you that?”

  “He used to carry you on his shoulders through the back pasture so you could reach the tree house door. Your cousin Joshua used to lock you out because he said you weren’t tall enough to join his secret clubhouse. But William made you tall enough.”

  Her mind stumbled over memory boxes she hadn’t opened in years. “Stop it.”

  “You always begged to go huckleberry picking in the summertime and you loved making jam with Delia i
n the kitchen. You two would sing and carry on.” He chuckled. “It made everybody laugh. You’d tie a red ribbon around the lids and press a Shelby Lodge seal to the glass, and then William would take you on a ride into town. To give the jars away to families who served our country.”

  She reached for the wall behind her. She needed to steady herself. Steady her thoughts.

  “He loved all his grandchildren, but you were special to him, Rayne. Your bond was unique. When you lost your mother at such a young age, William moved heaven and earth to convince your father to come live at the lodge. He wanted to be a part of your life. He hoped he could right some of his past mistakes with his own children by pouring his life, his wisdom, his renewed faith into the next generation. Into you.”

  No, this wasn’t real. This man didn’t know her. He didn’t care for her grandfather. He was a manipulator.

  Though her mind screamed the command, her feet wouldn’t move.

  “You’ve always been able to see people with your heart, Rayne.” Ford swallowed and she felt her own throat thicken. “It was the way William saw people too. Even when you were seven years old, he recognized your gift, your way with the patrons. And what you’ve done with the lodge this week, with the shelter, William would have made the same decision. He’d be proud of you.”

  Emotions swarmed inside her, blurring her vision and bucking against her instincts. How she’d longed to hear those words from her grandfather. To share her dreams with him, to seek his counsel, to feel his acceptance.

  “I know my boy cares for you—deeply,” Ford continued.

  Her attention snapped back to reality. To the present.

  So that’s why he’d come. “You’re here to tell me to stay away from Levi?”

  He tipped his blunt chin toward the floor and dragged the sole of his boot against the carpet threads, as if pondering something she hadn’t asked. She studied his face, his angled features, his woolly, wiry mustache, his parched skin, mapped by years of sun exposure. She wondered at his age. Despite his weathered appearance, he was younger than she’d imagined—perhaps not much older than her uncle Cal.