Breathless

by HELEN HARDT

  “They’re at school,” I reminded her.

  “Right. I’ve got pregnancy brain.” She laughed.

  “I can grab them from school on my way home if you want.”

  “No. Let them finish the day. I’m just being a little overly emotional.”

  I smiled. “I think you’re entitled.”

  Talon revved the engine a little.

  “That must be my cue to let you guys go.” I leaned in and kissed Jade’s cheek. “I’ll be home soon.”

  They drove off toward the ranch.

  I didn’t actually have a lot of errands, just a stop to pick up some of my favorite moisturizer that had run out a few days ago. That would take five minutes.

  I stood right in the middle of downtown Snow Creek, Colorado. A sweet little town—or so we’d all thought, until we learned our mayor and my esteemed uncle, our city attorney, had been leading double psycho lives. You’d miss it if you took a long blink while driving through. I was parked on a side street. Parking on the main drag was almost always impossible. The small gym where I’d worked out was a few buildings down from the smoothie shop. Only a block away began the residential area, and who should live right on that first block?

  Bryce Simpson.

  The Simpson house.

  I could walk there in less than five minutes. I could knock on the door. Bryce would be home, unless he was still at our house meeting with Joe and Ryan. I checked my watch. After one o’clock. Surely he’d be home by now.

  My feet itched to move.

  But he’d made his position very clear. He might be attracted to me, but he didn’t want a relationship.

  I was twenty-five years old. Still young. I didn’t need to find “the one” anytime soon. I didn’t need to have kids anytime soon. I had two nephews, and soon I’d have two more. I could be a doting aunt and not have any of the actual responsibility.

  Could I be satisfied with a purely sexual relationship? Even if I could, would Bryce be open to it? He’d probably spew a bunch of “I can’t just fuck my best friend’s sister” crap at me.

  I touched my lips lightly. I could still feel his passionate kiss, still feel his lips on my body, still feel his erection inside me, easing the empty ache.

  Again, my feet twitched. So easily I could let them walk the block and a half to Bryce’s home. So easily I could knock on that door, look into those sparkling blue eyes, see how much he still wanted me.

  And he’d want me. Sex and passion like we’d shared doesn’t always happen, and it sure hadn’t been one-sided.

  I sighed.

  And then I let my feet move forward.

  Chapter Twenty

  Bryce

  Not a number I recognized. I nodded to my mother and walked away from her to take the call.

  “Hello?”

  “Is this Bryce Simpson?”

  “Speaking. Who is this?”

  “Ted Morse, Mr. Simpson.”

  Morse. Right. The big-time banker father of Colin Morse, my father’s final victim.

  I cleared my throat. “What can I do for you?”

  “You can meet with me. I have information you’re going to want.”

  He did? “Why don’t you tell me over the phone? I’m listening.”

  “This is sensitive information.”

  “So? I assure you my phone is not tapped.”

  “How can you be so sure? The FBI is probably watching everyone associated with Mathias, Wade, Madigan, and your father.”

  I moved my phone away from my ear and stared at it. Was I bugged? Could a cell phone be bugged? I had no idea. Morse was probably pulling my leg, but could I take that chance? I put the phone back to my ear. “I doubt that.”

  “Trust me. The Feds are always listening. I won’t speak of this over the phone.”

  “Well, if they are listening, they now know you have information for me.”

  No response.

  Did this guy think I was stupid?

  “This conversation is over,” I said, ending the call.

  Yeah, hanging up was immature, but I had enough on my mind. First, the Feds had no reason to be watching me. I was not my father, and my father was dead and cremated. Second, the case was closed. All the masterminds behind it were dead, and the human-trafficking ring had been busted. The kids and women had been rescued and returned home.

  The end.

  The fucking end.

  All that remained was the fallout for people like me.

  “Fuck you,” I said aloud to my phone before stuffing it back into my pocket.

  Then a knock on the door. I walked back toward my mother in the living room, just as she was opening the door.

  “Marjorie! How nice to see you. Won’t you come in?”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Simpson.” She entered.

  “Please, it’s Evelyn. What can I do for you?”

  “I was in town, so I wanted to stop by and see how you all are doing.”

  “We’re taking it one day at a time, as I’m sure you are as well.”

  Marj nodded. “How is Bryce? And Henry?”

  “Bryce is fine,” I said, entering the living room. “And Henry’s napping.”

  Marj reddened a bit. “Hi there.”

  “To what do we owe the pleasure?” I asked.

  Shit. Really, Bryce? Did you really just say that? Since when do you speak like an aristocrat?

  “Just in town going to the gym,” she said. “Thought I’d see how you, Henry, and your mom are doing.”

  “We’re fine,” I said dryly.

  “Would you like to see Henry?” Mom asked. “He should be awake by now, and he’s probably hungry.”

  “I’d love that,” she said, “if you don’t mind.”

  “Sure. Come on back to the nursery.”

  Marj followed my mom down the small hallway as I looked around. Our humble abode was nothing compared to the sprawling Steel ranch house. Talon and Jade lived in the biggest house on the ranch, the one the Steels had grown up in. Joe had long since built his own home and didn’t want to move back into the main house. Ryan had lived in the guesthouse behind the main house—where I’d be moving if I accepted the offer—until he and Ruby married. They now lived in their own place on the ranch.

  No, I wasn’t embarrassed about my home. Only embarrassed that, at thirty-eight years of age, I didn’t have my own.

  I truly had nothing to offer Marjorie Steel, who was used to having everything. She was heiress to one quarter of the Steel fortune.

  All the more reason not to have a relationship with her.

  I could take the Steels’ offer, live in the guesthouse with Henry and my mom. I’d be damned close to Marjorie Steel, though.

  Damn.

  Damn.

  Damn.

  I walked toward Henry’s room.

  “He’s gotten so big!” Marjorie squealed as my mother pulled a smiling Henry out of his crib. “And still such a good disposition too.”

  “He’s the easiest baby in the world,” my mom said. “Bryce was a handful. He had colic and was always wailing. But this little guy”—she cooed—“none of that.”

  For a reason unknown to me, I was slightly embarrassed when my mother told Marjorie I’d been a handful as a baby. Nearly four decades ago and certainly nothing I had any control over. Still, I warmed a bit in my cheeks.

  Ridiculous. Get over yourself.

  “Hi, sweetie,” Marj said to Henry. “Do you remember me? I took care of you a couple times.”

  Henry rewarded her with a sloppy grin.

  “Well, look at you!” Marj exclaimed. “You’ve got your top front teeth! You’re such a cutie!” She turned to my mother. “He’s so beautiful.”

  “Looks a lot like Bryce at that age. Towheaded and those amazing blue eyes.” She sighed. “Just like Tom.”

  Marjorie tensed a bit but didn’t say anything.

  “Mom…” I began.

  “There’s no denying it,” my mother said. “I don’t mean to make
either of you uncomfortable, but Bryce, you look so much like your father did at your age. I have an old photo of Tom as a baby around here somewhere. Put his, Bryce’s, and Henry’s baby photos in a row, and you’d swear you’re looking at identical triplets born three generations in a row.”

  “Genetics are amazing,” Marj said. “Just look at my dad and Joe. And Talon, for that matter, though Joe resembles my dad the most. We just found out Melanie is having a boy, so I wonder if the same thing will happen or if the baby will come out blond-haired and green-eyed like his mama.”

  “A boy! Little boys are just the best, aren’t they, Henry?” my mom said, kissing Henry’s cheek. “How is Melanie doing?”

  “She’s great. She’s had a nearly eventless pregnancy, which is amazing for her age.”

  “Forty isn’t that old,” my mom said. “I’d love to see forty again.”

  “I know, and Melanie looks ten years younger, but her doctors say that forty is old in the reproductive world. This may be her and Joe’s only chance for a biological child.”

  “Oh, goodness. Well, then, I’m thankful it’s been so easy on her. And Jade?”

  “Not as easy,” Marj said. “But she’s hanging in there.”

  “I was sick as a dog when I was carrying Bryce,” my mother said. “But the outcome is always worth it.”

  “How is Jade doing now?” I interjected, feeling I needed to do something other than stare at the three of them as if I were invisible.

  “She’s good,” Marj said. “I just saw her. Talon stopped in town to get her a smoothie.”

  “Was something wrong?” my mom asked.

  “Oh. You didn’t tell her?” Marj said.

  Why hadn’t I told her? My mother loved the Steels.

  “Didn’t want you to worry, Mom.” I quickly filled her in and then realized why I hadn’t told her in the first place.

  I’d been intentionally keeping Marjorie at a distance, and Jade was Marjorie’s best friend. Talking about Jade made me think of Marjorie. Not that I wasn’t thinking about Marjorie pretty much twenty-four-seven anyway, but I had to try.

  “I’m glad everything’s okay with Jade and the baby,” Mom was saying. “I’m going to feed Henry his lunch. Would you like to stay, Marj? I was planning to make BLTs with avocado.”

  Marjorie fidgeted a little. Was I supposed to say something here? Did I look like an asshole if I didn’t?

  “Yeah, please stay,” I said, trying not to sound too eager. Instead, my words came out monotonous, as if I were a robot.

  “I just had a smoothie,” she said. “I’m not overly hungry, but thanks all the same.”

  “Oh, no worries. I suppose a BLT is too simple for a world-class chef like you.” Mom laughed.

  “I hope you’re kidding. I love BLTs.”

  “Of course I was kidding, dear. You know you are welcome here anytime. All of you Steels are.”

  Again, I felt compelled to add to the conversation. “Of course you are.”

  Marjorie smiled at me then. A soft smile, behind which I couldn’t quite discern the meaning.

  “I know you need to get this little guy fed,” she said, “so I’ll be going. I’m sure Jade will need me at home.”

  But I need you here.

  The words were lodged in my throat, yearning to be set free.

  But I wasn’t ready to acknowledge the truth in them.

  I would never be ready.

  Chapter Twenty–One

  Marjorie

  What a mistake that had been. I couldn’t get out of the Simpsons’ house quickly enough. Away from Bryce, the human icicle. He’d done a one-eighty from the heat we’d shared. Now he was cold as a tit on a boar, which frightened me.

  Not in a scary way, but I was frightened for his son. I hoped he could show his son the love he apparently couldn’t show me.

  I scoffed aloud as I opened my car door. Love? What Bryce and I had shared had nothing to do with love. I might be having serious feelings for him, but they obviously were not returned. Not in the slightest. I had the sinking feeling they never would be.

  I had to be okay with that. Right now, Henry was way more important than I was. He needed his dad, and if that meant I stayed away from Bryce, so be it. Of course, if he took my brothers’ offer and moved into the guesthouse, that endeavor would be difficult.

  But I’d do it. I had to. For the baby’s sake.

  And speaking of babies, I needed to get home and take care of Jade. But first I’d pick up the boys from school. It was a little early, but it seemed silly to make them ride the bus out to the ranch when I was here in town. Plus they’d be anxious to hear how their mom was doing.

  Two little boys in tow, I arrived back at the main house on Steel Acres Ranch. Donny went running in to see Jade. Dale, always quiet, walked in with me.

  “How was school?” I asked him.

  “Okay,” he said.

  Dale was in fifth grade and Donny in second. They’d been through hell, and the family as a whole—with Dale’s and Donny’s input, of course—had decided to keep the boys’ ordeal quiet. The FBI had plenty of evidence to put everyone involved—everyone who wasn’t already dead—behind bars, so there was no need to drag the boys through any more horror.

  They were both getting the help they needed, however, unlike their father. My father had kept Talon’s ordeal so quiet that my brothers hadn’t been able to get the help they needed to deal with it when they were young. My dad had had his reasons—reasons he ended up dying for—but it had cost Talon, Joe, and Ryan. I thanked God my brothers were all healing and content now.

  They’d all found true love, as well, and that helped too.

  True love.

  It seemed so elusive.

  At least it was with Bryce Simpson. I knew what I needed to do. Get out there, like Jade had said. But not now. I was staying until Jade had safely given birth, and probably for a few months after that, unless Felicia returned or they hired a nanny.

  So I’d be celibate for the next several months.

  Not an issue.

  At least that was what I kept telling myself.

  “You want a snack?” I asked Dale.

  He nodded. “I’ll get it myself.”

  “Okay, sweetie.” I’d found it best not to hover with Dale. He seemed more content to be quiet and alone, and Melanie had assured me that was fine. Just let him be who he was, and he’d come around. He was most likely more of an introvert than his brother even before they’d been taken.

  Jade was in her bedroom, sitting up, with a smiling Donny next to her babbling about his day at school. They made a beautiful picture. Jade was only my age, and she had an instant family. She was reveling in it. She adored those boys, and she was a born mother.

  “Hey, Marj,” she said. “Thanks for bringing the boys home. I have some exciting news that I was just telling Donny.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Talon just got a call when we got home. The boys’ adoption will be final next week. We all need to go to Grand Junction and appear in the judge’s chambers, and we want you to come as well.”

  “What for?”

  “To be the boys’ godmother, of course!”

  “What’s a godmother?” Donny asked.

  “A godmother is just another person who loves you as much as Daddy and I do.” Jade gave him a hug.

  I laughed. “And a godmother is another person who gives you presents.”

  “So then I have three mothers?”

  “That’s one way to look at it,” Jade said. “Your mommy in heaven, me, and Auntie Marj.”

  “Cool! We should tell Dale. I’ll go get him.” He scrambled off the bed.

  “He’s in the kitchen having a snack,” I said. Then, when Donny was gone, I turned to Jade. “I’m honored. Really.”

  “Who else would I choose? I want you to be the baby’s godmother as well.”

  Warm emotion rolled through me.

  But Jade continued, “If I can carry the
child to term.”

  “Hey.” I patted her hand. “Where did that come from? Tal says everything is fine and what you went through is normal.”

  “I know. I’m scared, though. Like majorly freaked-out scared.”

  I hugged her, wishing I could think of something more comforting. All I could think of was, “You’re the strongest woman I know. You will get through this, and we’ll all have another wonderful addition to the family.”

  She let out a sarcastic chuckle. “Me? Strong? I got humiliated at the altar, and I got over it. That’s not strong. Melanie. Ruby. They are strong women.”

  I certainly couldn’t disagree. My two other sisters-in-law had both been through hell. Melanie had been kidnapped and left to die in a locked garage with a car running, and Ruby had survived an attack by her father and had been on her own since she was fifteen years old. They were amazing.

  But so was my best friend.

  “You can’t compare yourself to them.”

  “I can. And look at Melanie now. She’s forty and is gliding through pregnancy. I’m at perfect childbearing age, and I’m having every problem in the book. I can’t do anything right.”

  I pulled back and met her blue-eyed gaze. “Where is this coming from, Jade?”

  “I don’t know. Well, yeah, I do. I talked to my mom on the way home from the hospital, to fill her in, and she told me how easy I was to carry.”

  I had no great love for Jade’s mother, ex-supermodel Brooke Bailey. Merriam-Webster could have replaced the definition of “self-absorption” with a photo of Brooke, and it would be completely accurate. Seriously. Knowing her, she’d gushed about how amazing she’d felt—and looked—while carrying Jade, her only child. If she were in the vicinity at the moment, I had no doubt I’d punch her square in the nose.

  “First, Brooke was younger than you are when she was pregnant with you. And second, who cares? You are not Brooke Bailey. I talked to Evelyn Simpson earlier today, and she said she was sick as a dog carrying Bryce. She was probably about your age when she was pregnant.”

  “She was younger, I think.”