Backlash Tender Trap Aftermath - Lisa Jackson Page 0,141
the point of fighting when she’d been waiting for eight years for him to take her into his arms?
When he dragged his lips away, she whispered, “You’re positively annoying!”
“And you love it.”
“Don’t flatter yourself!”
“Come on, Cass,” he whispered suggestively, “admit it. It keeps you interested.”
She slid a glance at him from beneath the fringe of her dark lashes. “I’m not interested.”
“Bull!” He touched his forehead to hers. “Let’s not argue.”
“Seems inevitable.”
“Nothing’s inevitable,” he whispered, and her heart turned over. “Now, tell me, is Ivan the Terrible around?”
“Dad is in the house. And he’s not in a great mood. I wouldn’t be calling him any names.”
“I won’t,” Colton said, releasing her and starting up the back steps. “As a matter of fact, I’m here to apologize.”
Cassie’s brows lifted. “You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?”
“It keeps you on your toes.”
“Don’t bother.”
He grinned despite her sarcasm. “I decided that the other night when I told you that I was wrong wasn’t enough; that I should tell Ivan he’s off the hook.”
“I don’t think he really cared one way or the other,” Cassie said. She tried to sound calm, but her spirits were soaring. Colton was taking the first step; maybe Ivan could find it in his heart to forgive him. And perhaps she could forgive him as well.
“At least I’ll have tried.”
Cassie smothered a smile. “Enter, Daniel, into the lion’s den.”
Colton laughed as Cassie opened the back door. Erasmus bolted through, nearly knocking her over as he ran, pell-mell, down the stairs and streaked across the backyard, startling a flock of blackbirds in the leafless apple tree. “You know, you’re not on his top-ten list of favorite people right now.”
“I figured that.”
Together they walked into the kitchen. Ivan was seated at the table, a mug of coffee in one hand. “McLean,” he said without preamble.
Colton stopped just inside the door and swept his Stetson from his head. “Thought you’d want to know Black Magic’s been found.”
“I heard.” Ivan’s gaze bored into the younger man’s eyes, but Colton didn’t flinch. “Rumor has it he just wandered off and decided to come back on his own.”
Colton’s lips thinned. “I doubt it. But I’ve decided that I judged you too quickly.”
“Probably just force of habit.”
Colton’s jaw worked. “Look, I just stopped by to say I’m sorry I came down on you so hard.”
Ivan shifted his gaze away. “A little late for apologies, isn’t it?”
“It’s probably too late for a lot of things,” Colton admitted with a grim smile, flicking a glance at Cassie. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t bury the hatchet.”
“Just like that?”
Leaning a hip against the counter, Colton shook his head. “I suppose it’ll take a little effort.”
“And a lot of forgetting.” Ivan scowled into his coffee cup, then took a long, last swallow. Dropping his feet onto the cracked linoleum, he shoved himself upright, straightening slowly. “There’s been too much bad blood between our families to pretend it didn’t exist,” he said deliberately, rubbing his stubbled jaw. “I don’t think we can even begin to bury it all.”
“Dad . . .” Cassie protested.
“Look, McLean, you’ve said your piece and I’ve listened. In all honesty, I’m glad the horse is back. As for the rest”—his brows drew together and he lifted one shoulder—“I see no reason to change things. As far as I’m concerned, you’re still not welcome here.”
Cassie’s spirits crashed. “Please, Dad, think about this—”
“Think about it?” Ivan retorted, his lips thinning. “I’ve thought too long about the McLeans. You might be falling for his line, but I’m not!” he growled.
“I just think it’s time we settled some things.”
“Tell that to your mother, why don’t you?” His old eyes gleaming, he stood. The cords in his neck had stretched taut as he warned, “Be careful, Cassie. You’re twenty-five now—old enough to make your own decisions—and I can’t tell you what to do. But just be damned careful.”
“Dad, wait—I think we should talk about this. . . .” Cassie followed him out of the room, but Ivan shook his head sadly, ran a shaking hand over his forehead and climbed the stairs.
“Get rid of him. Then we’ll talk.”
Cassie felt pulled and pushed. On one hand she wanted to shove aside all the pain of the past, get on with her life. On the other, she knew her father was right. One apology didn’t erase years of agony and mistrust.
Her stomach in knots, she walked back to the kitchen where Colton, twirling the brim of his hat in his fingers, stared out the window.