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Kael (Texas Rascals, #6) Page 5


  fered hadn’t changed him one whit. He remained hell-bent

  on self-destruction.

  “Daisy.” He reached out to her, his eyes pleading for

  forgiveness. But she shied, skirting a wide berth around

  him.

  “Don’t.”

  “You’ve got to know I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

  She pressed her lips together in a hard, cold line and

  gave him the most hateful glare she could muster. “Face

  facts, Kael Carmody, you’ll never grow up.”

  With that she pivoted on her heels and stalked across the

  burned, smoking alfalfa field, the dead bee’s body clutched

  tightly in her fist.

  Chapter Three

  Even when he’d lain bleeding in the arena dirt at the PRC

  championship in Las Vegas, his knee mangled by the Texas

  Tornado, Kael had never experienced such pain. After run-

  ning from commitment and responsibility for seven years,

  he’d returned home to put his life back together only to

  repeat the same mistakes he’d made in the past. He’d al-

  lowed his rebellious nature to rule his head.

  Forgetting the look on Daisy’s face proved an impossi-

  bility. Her disgust, disappointment and despair had been

  plain to read. Her bitter stare had reprimanded him for his

  sins. In her accusing eyes, he was beyond redemption.

  Kael sat on the split rail fence, raking his gaze over the

  destruction. The air stunk of burned alfalfa. He could lit-

  erally taste the caustic flavor. The whole pasture was black.

  Hours after the destruction, smoke continued to spiral up-

  ward in lazy patches.

  Daisy had every right to despise him. He deserved her

  disdain. Just as he had seven years ago.

  How different might his life have been if he had es-

  chewed bull riding for the only woman he’d ever loved?

  But you didn ’t.

  No. Instead, he’d let the best thing that ever happened

  to him slip through his fingers while he pursued his career.

  A career with no stability, no longevity, no guarantees. A

  career that had earned him a ruined leg and a whole lot of

  pain.

  If he had stayed, he and Daisy would probably be mar-

  ried by now. With two or three children of their own. Daisy

  wouldn’t have to worry about money. Their lives would be

  filled with love and laughter instead of sorrow and loneli-

  ness. Why, oh why, had he chosen one path to follow in-

  stead of the other?

  Kael cracked his knuckles and recalled the cocky young

  male he’d once been, so sure of himself. Confident that

  fame and fortune were the keys to happiness. Certain that

  commitment and marriage would lead to boredom and con-

  finement. Convinced that making a name for himself would

  prove to his successful father, once and for all, that he was

  indeed a man.

  His recklessness had cost his parents an alfalfa field, but

  that was nothing. They had plenty of money and lots of

  insurance. His inexcusable behavior had extracted a much

  higher toll for Daisy Hightower and her little family.

  He had to make amends. If he could just figure out how

  to approach her.

  “Ah, Daisy,” he whispered under his breath. “I never

  meant to hurt you.”

  Kael glared at the Harley still parked beside the fence.

  Daisy was right. It was about time he grew up and accepted

  responsibility for his actions. Now if she would only let

  him.

  Determined, Kael eased himself down off the wooden

  fence and mentally girded himself for battle.

  “We’re ruined,” Daisy whispered.

  For once, Aunt Peavy had nothing to say. She sat at the

  kitchen table looking as shocked as Daisy felt. Her iron

  gray hair, normally well coifed, lay disheveled against her

  head. Abundant tears had left makeup tracks down her

  plump cheeks. She smelled of the cinnamon buns she’d

  made for their breakfast that morning, but instead of cheer-

  ing her, the sweet aroma only served to depress Daisy fur-

  ther.

  She clenched her teeth. She could tolerate the pain for

  herself. But it hurt so badly to see how this turn of events

  affected her aunt.

  “Hightower Honey Farm has been a staple in Refugio

  county for three generations,” Aunt Peavy said, mopping

  her face with her apron. “I’m sorry to be alive to see this

  day.”

  “Now, Auntie.” Daisy got up and gave her a hug.

  “Don’t get upset. I’ll think of some way to save the busi-

  ness.”

  “How? Without bees there is no honey.”

  “I’ll just have to get more bees.”

  “With what? We’re flat broke.” Aunt Peavy wrung her

  hands. “We’re gonna end up on the street.”

  “I’m sorry I let you down,” Daisy said, the lump in her

  throat growing larger.

  “Heaven knows you’ve done your best, sweetie.” Aunt

  Peavy patted Daisy’s arm. “I’m not accusing you. If any-

  body’s to blame it’s that no count rascal Kael Carmody.”

  Daisy agreed wholeheartedly. The man was a menace.

  To both himself and others.

  “There’s no use crying over spilled milk. What’s done

  is done. The bees are dead and we’ve got to make a fresh

  start.”

  It wasn’t that she didn’t hold Kael Carmody accountable

  for what had happened, because she most certainly did. She

  simply didn’t see any point wallowing in self-pity when

  there was work to be done.

  Aunt Peavy had a penchant for dramatics, and Daisy was

  determined to quell that tendency before her aunt’s nega-

  tivity caused repercussions in her own mind. Picking her-

  self up by the boot straps and trudging forward had been

  the only way she’d survived her parents’ deaths and Rose’s

  suicide. Losing all the bees in the world couldn’t top those

  personal tragedies, but she’d survived and come out of

  those experiences a much stronger person. She’d survive

  this, too.

  “What are we going to tell Travis?” Aunt Peavy fretted.

  “The truth.”

  “The poor little lad.” Aunt Peavy sniffled.

  “Travis is tough. He’ll manage, just like we will.”

  Daisy constructed a brave front, but in her heart she was

  as worried and frightened as Aunt Peavy. What were they

  going to do? Where would she get the money to pay the

  bills and buy new bees?

  At that moment the front doorbell rang.

  “I’ll get it. You collect yourself,” Daisy said, rising to

  her feet.

  Aunt Peavy nodded, and Daisy left the woman sitting

  there alone and forlorn.

  Mentally attempting to shake off the gloomy pall that

  surrounded her, Daisy opened the front door.

  Kael Carmody slouched on her porch. He hung his head

  and stared at his boots.

  The sight of him took Daisy’s breath. No matter what

  the man had done, no matter how often he had caused her

  pain, she still could not seem to stop her heart from tripping

  over itself eve
ry time she saw him.

  “Go away,” she said abruptly and started to close the

  door.

  As if he’d been anticipating her response, Kael moved

  quickly and wedged his foot inside the door. She couldn’t

  close it without hurting him. A devilish impulse urged her

  to slam it shut, anyway, but her more rational side pre-

  vailed.

  “Get your foot out of the door, Carmody.” She sighed.

  “Will you let me speak?”

  “Why should I?”

  “Because I feel bad about what happened.”

  “Oh, go ride your motorcycle,” she retorted. “It’s not

  up to me to relieve your guilt.”

  “Dammit, Daisy, you’ve got to give me a chance to

  make amends.”

  “Since when did the great Kael Carmody start assuming

  responsibility for his actions?’ ’

  “Since now.”

  He rested his hand against the dooijamb and looked her

  right in the eyes. She felt as if he’d sucked the very essence

  from her marrow with his blistering gaze.

  “Yeah, right.”

  “Will you just hear me out? Please?” There was no

  mistaking the exasperation in his voice.

  “All right.” What did she have to lose by listening?

  “Come on in, but I can’t promise Aunt Peavy won’t lynch

  you.”

  Kael followed her into the foyer. Daisy closed the door

  against the insufferable heat and watched him limp toward

  the living room. She motioned toward the couch, and he

  eased himself down. Daisy sat beside him but put two cush-

  ions distance between them.

  “I talked to our insurance agent,” he said.

  Daisy folded her arms across her chest. “Yes?”

  “Our policy should cover the loss of your bees.”

  Her heart welled with hope, but her pride warred with

  her common sense. She hated to take anything from this

  man. She longed to tell Kael Carmody exactly where he

  could stick his insurance policy. But there was Aunt Peavy

  and Travis to consider, not to mention the family’s long-

  standing history in the honey business.

  Swallowing her pride, Daisy grudgingly relinquished.

  “It’s a beginning.”

  “I know.” Kael nodded. “I owe you much more than

  that. Money might buy you bees, but I realize there’s a lot

  of work involved in starting new colonies.”

  “Yes, there is.”

  “I intend on helping you.”

  “Oh, no way. I won’t have you hanging around here

  causing more trouble and grief.”

  “It’s the very least I can do,” he insisted, sliding across

  the couch toward her.

  Daisy leaned back. What was that warning spark in his

  eyes? “No. Absolutely not.”

  “Be reasonable. You’ve got more than you can handle,

  running a business, raising a seven-year-old, taking care of

  an elderly woman.”

  “I’m not that old, young man!” Aunt Peavy scolded,

  shuffling into the living room. “And he’s right, Daisy.

  You’ve got to have help. Already you get up at five in the

  morning and don’t find your way to bed until almost mid-

  night.”

  “Auntie,” Daisy spoke sharply. “I’ll handle this.”

  “The man wants to make amends. Who are you to deny

  him?”

  The woman whose heart he’d broken those many years

  ago, that’s who. Daisy couldn’t bear the thought of Kael

  Carmody constantly underfoot. The mere idea of him run-

  ning around with his shirt off, doing physical labor, had

  her contemplating a cold shower.

  “Look, if you don’t let me help, I’m going to go nuts.

  The truth is you’d be doing me a favor,” Kael said.

  “Why on earth should I do you a favor?”

  “Pity?” He gave her the grin that could melt any female

  within a hundred-mile radius. “I don’t have a thing to do.

  I’m sitting around at my parents’ house, waiting for my leg

  to heal, watching cable television and getting fat.”

  “Don’t forget starting fires in your spare time.”

  Heavens, how she wanted to say yes. But did she dare?

  This time could she keep her heart from harm’s way?

  Kael followed Daisy across her back pasture toward the

  hives. He couldn’t believe she’d acquiesced and was going

  to let him help her. She must be in more pressing financial

  straits than he first believed. He knew from past experience

  that this hardheaded woman rarely changed her mind about

  anything.

  ‘ ‘I haven’t checked the apiary since the fire. Come along.

  You might as well see the damage you’ve caused.”

  Her words added to the guilt already towering inside

  him.

  The air lay thick and heavy. Kael had forgotten just how

  humid it was in Refugio county. Here, ninety degrees felt

  hotter than a hundred and twelve in Las Vegas.

  Even the gulf breezes ruffling their hair blew hot. By the

  time they’d traveled the short distance to the apiary, sweat

  plastered his shirt to his back, and his leg thumped with

  pain, but he refused to give in to it.

  Daisy stopped short. Placing her hands on her hips, she

  gazed at the dormant hives in dismay.

  Gone was the normal hustle and bustle. A few frantic

  bees circled. Appearing nervous and unsettled, the remain-

  ing bees raised their heads from the hive and lined up be-

  tween the tops of the frames.

  Stepping to the work shed, Daisy went inside then re-

  turned with two veils and a bee suit.

  “Here,” she said handing him the bee suit. “Put this on.

  They’re upset and more likely to sting.”

  Nervously Kael donned the zippered, white coveralls,

  tugging them on over his clothes. He wondered who nor-

  mally wore them. They were far too big for Daisy’s petite

  figure.

  At the thought of a man in her life, jealousy stabbed

  through him. Mickey had told him Daisy never dated, but

  Mickey Standish didn’t know everything in Rascal. Per-

  haps she had a secret beau.

  “Whose coveralls?” he asked.

  “Aunt Peavy’s. But she rarely helps with the bees any-

  more. Her eyesight is too poor.”

  “Oh.” Why his spirits would lift with that information,

  Kael couldn’t imagine.

  Daisy removed more equipment from the shed. She car-

  ried a contraption that resembled bellows and another tool.

  Settling a bee veil over her head, she crouched and struck

  a match to light the smoker. Walking past Kael, she ap-

  proached the hive, coming at it from the side and taking

  care to avoid the flight line of the remaining bees.

  He watched, fascinated. She moved with practiced mo-

  tions. The afternoon sun glinted off her hair, shining like

  some glorious crown. A deep, abiding ache started in his

  gut and fled upward. Daisy Hightower was more beautiful

  now than ever. Her skinny girlish shape had rounded into

  womanly curves. Her freckles had lightened, and her face

  had grown to fit those wide green eyes.

  He’d been
such a silly fool seven years ago. He’d thrown

  away their budding love affair for bull riding. Then that

  awful incident with Rose had capped off his sins. Now, by

  starting the blaze and killing Daisy’s bees, he had blown

  any chance he might have had at rebuilding their ravaged

  relationship.

  “Pay attention,” Daisy snapped, turning her head to

  glare at him. “If you’re sincere about helping me rebuild,

  then you’ve got to know what’s going on. I’m checking on

  each queen and seeing exactly how many bees I’ve lost.”

  “Okay.”

  Bees gathered around the opening, buzzing angrily. Kael

  winced and steeled himself.

  With the bee smoker clutched in her right hand and the

  hive tool in her left, Daisy blew two smoke puffs into the

  hive entrance.

  The smoke calmed the bees.

  Daisy removed the hive’s outer cover and blew a puff

  of smoke into the center of the opening. Taking the hive

  tool, she pushed it gently into the inner hive.

  Realizing he’d been holding his breath, Kael forced him-

  self to suck in the air that smelled of smoke and charred

  alfalfa.

  She worked slowly, gently, removing each frame and

  examining hive activity. He continued to watch, fascinated

  by Daisy, the bees, the whole darned process.

  Sighing, Daisy replaced the frames and then the cover.

  When she turned to face him, he saw tears glistening in her

  eyes.

  “Daisy?” Alarm raced through him.

  “This hive is almost completely wiped out. The queen

  is okay, which is good. But I’ve lost at least ten thousand

  workers.”

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

  “I know they’re just bees.” Her bottom lip trembled.

  “But they meant a lot to me, you know?”

  “I...I...” He had no idea how to respond. Her tears hit

  him like a solid punch to the solar plexus. He’d caused

  this—her anguish, her grief, her despair.

  “I can’t bear to look at the rest of them. Not now. Maybe

  later.” She stepped away from the hives and stripped the

  veil from her face.

  She wiped at her cheeks with the back of a hand.

  He removed his veil, as well, and walked toward her.

  “Daisy, I can’t begin to tell you how I regret what I’ve

  done.’’

  Tilting her head, she angled him a green-eyed glance that