Woodrow’s face turned a dark shade of red, but he didn’t move.
“I won’t presume to speak for Tandy.” He lowered his voice, moving closer. “But I’m asking you, as an honorable man, to keep what you’ve learned to yourself. It’s not about me—no one in Fort Kyle has ever given a damn about me. The only reason that’s changed now is because Lynnie left me her place.” He paused, watching the play of emotions on the older man’s face. “But Tandy...” He glanced at her. “The more you talk, the more you’ll hurt her. I won’t stand by and let that happen.”
Woodrow Boone’s gaze swept over him, head to toe. But he didn’t say a word.
“Da da, go?” Pearl whispered, her little voice shaking. “Ta-dee?”
“Yep, time to go.” He smiled at his daughter, hugging her. “Ready, snuggle bunny?” He nodded at Evelyn, winked at Scarlett and smiled at Tandy before carrying Pearl from the room. He kept moving, calm and collected, until Pearl was buckled into her car seat. He moved around the truck and climbed into the driver’s seat, wishing he could rewind the last five minutes. The mix of anger and frustration, sadness and failure churning in his stomach had him shaking. Not that he could blame Woodrow Boone for thinking ill of him. His sister had probably made him sound like the lowest of the low.
There were times he wondered if the woman wasn’t right. He wasn’t worthy of Tandy, wasn’t capable of loving a person without hurting them.
“Da do go?” Pearl chattered from the back seat.
He stared at his daughter. But, if that was true, he had no business fighting for custody of Pearl—if it came to that. He couldn’t imagine a future without his daughter in it.
“Waiting on me?” Tandy said, climbing into the passenger seat.
“Ta-dee?” Pearl called from the back seat.
“I’m here,” Tandy said. “And I stole Uncle Woodrow’s guitar.” She laughed.
Click looked at her. “Probably not the best idea.”
“You withdrawing your earlier offer? A place for Banshee and me to stay?” Her gaze was steady.
“Bashee,” Pearl added. “Go, Da da.”
Click sighed. “I don’t want to cause problems between you and your family.”
“You never have.” She shook her head. “Now let’s go home so we can feed Banshee and sing a couple of songs.”
“You’re sure?” he asked. “I don’t need help.”
“I know. This is where I want to be.” She nodded.
He was breathing easier as he put the truck in gear and eased out of the parking lot.
“Mew-sik?” Pearl asked. “Sing, Ta-dee.”
Tandy sang Lynnie’s lullaby, about the pretty little horses, all the way home. He hummed along, wanting to ease some of the evening’s hurt away. Pearl was still singing along when he carried her in the house.
“Ba-shee,” Pearl greeted the dog, dropping a kiss on his head. “Yum-yum?” she asked.
Banshee stood, his tail wagging.
“So he speaks baby talk, too?” Click asked, watching the dog follow Pearl to the pantry, where his dog food had been stored.
“Like you said, he’s smart.” Tandy smiled up at him. She pressed one hand against his cheek, running the other through his thick hair. “You okay?”
“Now?” He smiled. This is where I want to be. She had no idea how she made him feel. He leaned forward to whisper, “Right now I’m pretty damn good.”
Chapter Fifteen
Tandy sat on the edge of her bed, working a comb through the tangles and knots in her hair. She stared out the back window, the pitch of night dotted with a million sparkling stars and a sliver of bright white moon. On the horizon she could make out the razor-sharp edge of the distant cliffs and mountains. The seam where sky and land met seemed oddly fitting tonight, jagged and sudden. Her uncle’s words had done the same—abruptly ending a lovely evening with angry, cutting words.
She’d seen the hurt in Click’s eyes, felt the wound as if it were her own.
Banshee pushed her knee with his nose and whimpered.