by Leigh Riker
Dallas had his boots on, was out the door and on her front porch in a flash. Their quick conversation that morning at Clara’s wasn’t enough, and he needed to restore their friendship, if that’s all they could have. Should have.
He rang the bell three times. Lizzie had ignored him before, and again he feared no one would answer. He had to look down, way down, to see the small boy, overwhelmed by Dallas’s bigger shadow, who opened the door, light spilling from inside onto the porch. In the distance he could hear voices.
“Who’re you?” the kid asked, peering up at him. What was his name? Seth? He had a slight build, blondish hair and Lizzie’s green eyes. Compared to Jordan, her youngest was a munchkin, and Dallas felt a flash of guilt. When he had no right, he’d recently kissed their mother. And before that, the day of her divorce, he’d done a lot more. This put a new slant on his attraction to Lizzie, sharply reminding him of the family she valued above all else.
Dallas introduced himself. “Your mom here?”
The boy gestured toward the hall behind him. “Upstairs. Stella can’t find her best doll.”
“Well, I don’t know that I can be of help there, but—”
“You don’t like dolls? I don’t like ’em,” he said, and Dallas decided to test the waters.
“I like horses.” He hunkered down to meet the kid’s gaze. “How about you?”
“I never rode a horse. Jordan wants to but he says I’m too little.” He stepped back, then said abruptly, “Bye. I’m not s’posed to talk to strangers.” He began to shut the door. Lizzie was a good mother who’d taught her son about safety.
Dallas put his foot in the wedge of open door. “Hey, do me a favor first, okay? Can you call your mom? I’m a friend—from next door—and I need to talk to her.”
His eyes widened. “The cowboy? Why?”
Dallas assumed he meant why did he want to talk to Lizzie, not why he’d joined the rodeo circuit. Before Dallas could answer, Jordan dashed around the corner from the rear yard, the basketball in his hands. His blond hair was a rumpled mess, his gray eyes lighting up when he saw him. “Dallas! Hi! I’m back from Colorado.”
Ah, a possible ally. The question remained, why were they all here now? “Welcome home. Jordan, can you go get your mom?” During the winter, and before the kids had left for part of the summer, he’d had a habit of monitoring the driveway like Bernice Caldwell, appearing as soon as Dallas came home from work or rehab. Dallas had given him a children’s book about the sport, and for that short time he’d become Jordan’s idol. Dallas had kind of gotten a kick out of that. “We’ll get together soon—like I promised—to watch those videos.”
“The ones with you in them?”
“Sure. But you’ll have to ask your mom first if that’s okay.” He knew Lizzie’s opinion of his chosen career. She rarely missed a chance to imply her children weren’t going to follow in his footsteps, to remind Dallas that he might damage his hip again if he took part in their rodeo. He liked to think that meant she cared about him a little. As a friend, of course. “Your brother says she’s upstairs.”
That didn’t work any better than with the youngest kid. “She doesn’t want to be disturbed,” Jordan said, obviously a quote, then in an overly polite tone, he asked, “Would you like to leave a message?”
Dallas considered that. Maybe he should go back to his place, his own problems, but a strange new silence from inside changed his mind. “No, I’d really like to see her.”
Lizzie’s daughter, Stella, hurried from the hall to lay a hand on Seth’s shoulder. Dallas was surrounded, two kids facing him in the doorway, one behind him, like palace guards. The little girl, dark-haired like Lizzie but with gray eyes, glowered at him just as, to his vast relief, Lizzie herself showed up. “The kids are home,” she said, which seemed obvious. Was she asking him to turn around, to leave? Not to complicate her life more than he already had? He ought to take that advice.
Instead, Dallas took a second look at her. Lizzie was white-faced.
“I know you’re busy, but I, uh, hoped we could discuss that charity we picked.”
She gathered Stella closer, put a hand on Seth’s head. “It’s nearly bedtime and they traveled all day. Everyone’s exhausted.” The truth, or a convenient excuse? She must be the one in need of sleep; the kids looked ready to roll. “I need to tuck them in.”
She didn’t get the last word out before, suddenly, Lizzie staggered. If not for the kids on either side of her, she would have fallen where she stood. No, he was not going back to his place, leaving her to cope with these three alone, not when she looked that way. “Everyone includes you,” he said, then eased past the other two in the doorway. Taking Lizzie under his wing as he went into the house, Dallas heard himself giving orders. “Kids, pajamas. Brush your teeth. Get to bed. Lights out.”
They all gaped at Dallas.
“I’m afraid of the dark,” Seth answered in a thin voice.
“Do we have to do what he says, Mom?” Stella asked.
Lizzie appeared ready to protest, but instead she leaned against Dallas. “Yes,” she said. “You do. Please, Stella. I’m too tired to argue.”
“Is there any more pizza?” Jordan piped up.
“No. We’ll have to shop tomorrow.”
“I had two pieces,” Seth chimed in.
“Please,” Lizzie said again.
Stella sent Dallas a death stare before she headed toward the steps. Obviously, she’d made up her mind about him last winter and it wasn’t good. Jordan hung back, studying him with a fresh look of hero worship in his eyes. Seth twined his arms around Lizzie’s leg. He wouldn’t let go until she promised, “Yes, I’ll try to find your green dinosaur.”
“I can’t sleep without him, Mama.”
Reluctantly, Dallas released her. While they all trooped upstairs, he stood rooted to the spot in the front hall. He didn’t move until Lizzie finally came down, one hand rubbing the bridge of her nose, her hair mussed. She heaved a sigh.
“Listen to the quiet. Yesterday that would have bothered me. Seth fell asleep while I was searching for his dinosaur. Stella’s out cold with half a dozen dolls around her, worn-out from weeping because we never found her favorite. Jordan’s plugged in to his iPad listening to weird music. He’s my fighter. He won’t give in to sleep until midnight.” She sank onto the living room sofa. “God give me strength.”
“You didn’t expect them,” he guessed, taking a seat beside her.
“No, Harry turned up around sunset. He has job interviews scheduled. He didn’t think to make arrangements for the kids while he was supposed to be in charge. I’m the default parent.” Blinking, lip quivering, she started to tear up. “What kind of mother am I? I’m thrilled they’re home, but how am I going to do this? My job, your rodeo...” She covered her eyes with her hands. “He uprooted them again, which means Stella will probably be back to square one. She’s felt so adrift since he moved out. And I said terrible things to him—”
“Whatever you said he had coming to him.” Dallas dipped his head to meet her gaze. “You’re the most tactful, responsible person I know—in fact, you’re a superwoman.”
“Really? If that was true, I would have been able to produce dinner. I’ve been living like a single person, eating stuff like that outdated frozen entrée. You brought me the best meal I’ve had all summer. There wasn’t enough food in the pantry to feed four people tonight.”
“You didn’t know you’d have to.” He ticked off points on his fingers. “You run this house, do your job, help me with the rodeo and still look drop-dead gorgeous.” He paused. “Well, at this moment...maybe just drop-dead.”
She leaned over, weakly punched his upper arm. And her soft fist met his hard biceps. “Wow, amazing. Talk about superheroes. You’re like the Incredible Hulk.”
“Without a green face, I hope. Or his hair-trigger temper.”<
br />
“I hope not,” she agreed, and kept leaning. A second later, her head was on his shoulder, tucked into the curve of his neck, her voice barely above a whisper. “I gave you a hard time, didn’t I, at Clara’s?”
He let his fingers sift through her hair, soft and silky under his touch. His guilt aside about their kiss, he wanted another. “I know your situation’s way different from mine—”
Her voice took on a husky tone. “You’re a good guy, Dallas.” She sighed. “If I wasn’t the newly divorced mother of three rambunctious kids, things might be very different.” That was the most encouraging thing she’d ever said to him.
He waited, unsure if he should say this. “Even if you are, Lizzie, things can change.”
She smiled. “And if you keep calling me Lizzie, I just might get used to it.”
He shouldn’t say this either, but, “Maybe you’ve been Elizabeth long enough. Not my decision to make, though.”
She pulled back to look up at him. Remembering her ex, who’d hurt her, and the mother who disapproved of her? “It’s tempting. The kiss was nice too, Dallas. I didn’t mean to let you think it wasn’t.”
His heart turned over. But he had to be honest. “I’m still planning to ride out of town.”
“And I’m staying here.” Their gazes held, and his pulse did another dance. God, she was pretty, even this way with her hair a mess, her eyes teary...a second away from crying and the need for comfort, which Dallas had provided before, and for which she’d never forgiven him. But it wasn’t only how she looked that drew him. He’d meant what he said. He liked the person she was inside, even that starchy part. Maybe especially that side of her.
“Dallas...” She didn’t go on. Her gaze slid away as it had several times before when he’d thought she was hiding or omitting something he should know. She opened her mouth as if to speak, then pressed her lips together.
Dallas wrapped his arms around her, rested his forehead against hers for another moment and inhaled her sweetness before he drew back to gauge her expression. Still dewy, still...warm. And he ignored the voice within that told him to back off. To think of the circuit, his responsibility to his parents and the ever-present memory of his early years, which had haunted him since he’d found Hadley again. Dallas didn’t listen, and in that moment he didn’t care. Without planning what came next, he lowered his head, his lips met hers once more and he was lost. He didn’t just like Lizzie Barnes, and from the way she’d looked at him, he wondered if she felt the same way. Which could be bad news for both of them.
Gradually, he ended the kiss. “What are we going to do about this?” he asked.
Easing from his embrace, Lizzie gave him a sad smile. “I guess we stop right where we are.” She added, “And remember we’re not alone. Seth’s a sleepwalker, and Stella is my self-appointed protector. I’m not a free agent, Dallas. So,” she said, “about that charity we need to talk about...”
Dallas didn’t hear another word she said.
He no longer wanted to simply spend time with her this summer, to be friends or business partners as well as neighbors until he had to leave. In spite of his promise to himself that he’d avoid any serious relationship for now, and his vow never to hurt her, he already wanted that something more.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“MAMA!” SETH CALLED from his room. “I don’t have any clothes.”
The next morning Elizabeth woke up feeling groggy. After Dallas had left last night, she’d tossed and turned before falling into a restless sleep. She couldn’t afford to be a slugabed now. Her children were home. Reality had intruded. She needed to be here for them, not in Dallas’s arms.
And yet, for a moment she didn’t answer Seth. She was enjoying Dallas’s temporary friendship, their mutual attraction, at the same time she was keeping a secret from him. She wondered if he’d seen that in her eyes last night. He hadn’t asked again but the question had been in his gaze. She needed to tell him, but how? That answer never seemed to come, even when she couldn’t hide the truth much longer. To be honest, she feared his reaction—not a good enough excuse. Feared losing that friendship, the only relationship they might have. Or was there something else, which couldn’t end well, going on here?
Could she be falling in love with Dallas?
She moaned aloud. What was she thinking? And what if she did miscarry again? She would have told him about the baby for nothing.
Seth was waiting. Elizabeth hadn’t helped her kids unpack yesterday, but obviously Harry had neglected to do laundry. He hadn’t packed their belongings clean and folded as she would have done; as always, he’d relied on Elizabeth to pick up his slack. With another groan, she put her legs over the side of the bed, then didn’t move.
A familiar wave of nausea held her still. “Come here, Seth.” He bounded into her room, landed on her in bed and giggled as he smacked a kiss on Elizabeth’s cheek. Her stomach rolled. “Honeybunch, Mama’s not awake yet.”
His eyes twinkled. “But are you happy?”
“You mean because you’re here? Yes, silly. I love you to the moon and back. Shall we see what’s for breakfast? I know there’s cereal.”
“At the ski village I had a humongous breakfast every day. In the dining room. They had everything. Bacon, eggs, pancakes...”
“Delicious,” she said, fighting nausea and trying not to further resent Harry. He’d made things easy for himself there too. “I’m glad you ate well. Let’s make a list for the store—right after breakfast.” And yet, she lay there, cuddled against Seth, as if she hadn’t slept at all. She really needed to reestablish a better, more healthful routine now.
It wasn’t until Jordan came in, followed by Stella, both demanding to be fed, that Elizabeth hauled herself from her warm bed and went downstairs. Feeling out of sorts, she fixed cereal with honey and milk for the kids, and brewed tea for herself. The quiet while Elizabeth nursed her first cup and everyone else ate seemed like heaven. The fighting didn’t start until three stomachs were full.
“I did not steal your dragon, baby,” Jordan said.
“Did too!”
Stella, bursting into tears, yelled, “Seth took my doll. Where did you hide Victoria?”
Seth gave her an impish grin. “Maybe I burned her in the backyard.”
The firepit there had been Harry’s gift to the family last Christmas. The kids loved it. To Elizabeth it was an accident waiting to happen.
Stella wept even harder. “Mommy, make him stop!”
“Seth, don’t tease.”
“I did, I did—” he danced around the table “—and you can’t get me!”
He charged off through the living room, up the stairs with Jordan and Stella, who was sobbing, at his heels. “I love Victoria. You’re mean!” Then, “Ow! Jordan, you stepped on my foot.”
Elizabeth stopped listening. As a mom, she had better selective hearing than Harry did. And to think, she’d missed their noise and constant questions, the sibling rivalry. She’d abhorred the echoes in every room.
She leaned her elbows on the counter and contemplated the house next door, envying the single man who lived there even when she wouldn’t have traded her children for anyone else, and tried not to remember how well he kissed. She’d been grateful for his presence last evening, though, as the kids slept upstairs while she and Dallas discussed the charity for Dusty Malone. He was in the hospital after surgery following his accident with the hay baler. Elizabeth also liked the idea of the rodeo money going directly to Dusty’s family, such a great cause. They expected a strong response from the townspeople. How could she fret about her own problems?
She’d taken a last swig of tea when her stomach finally rebelled, and Elizabeth ran for the bathroom.
* * *
“ELIZABETH?” A WOMAN’S voice called from the main room of Olivia McCord Antiques.
“Anybody here?” said an
other.
“Just me.” Becca hurried from the office into the showroom, where Clara McMann and Jenna Smith had just stepped inside, fanning themselves against the rapidly increasing heat outdoors. Barren was having one hot summer. The shop wasn’t busy this morning, thank her lucky stars, but she wouldn’t know what to do if it was.
“Elizabeth hasn’t come in,” she told them. Becca didn’t like having to manage the store. She wasn’t much of a self-starter, except she’d had no trouble starting the new life she carried. But we only...that one time... Calvin had said. She pulled herself from the perplexing thought. “Can I help you?”
Clara held a sheaf of brightly colored papers, red and blue and yellow. “We’ve brought you some flyers about the rodeo. And are you a baker, dear? We’ll be holding a competition.”
Becca flushed. By necessity she’d learned to cook after her mom died, one way in which she tried to take care of her father. Oh, she’d done that all right last night. “I make a pretty good pumpkin pie, not a bad apple, but I like raisins in mine. Some people don’t,” she said. Her dad had always loved the raisins, having been her greatest supporter, past tense. He hadn’t said a word since he’d guessed about Becca’s baby.
“We’ll count on you, then,” Clara said. “Jenna and I are going to judge fruits and vegetables, so if you have a garden...” With a slight wince, she didn’t continue. Becca’s mom had raised world-class tomatoes and peppers. Once, her squash had taken second place at the Stewart county fair, her pumpkin a blue ribbon.
“My dad didn’t want a big garden this year. We use everything we grow.”
Becca skimmed a hand over her stomach, hoping the two women couldn’t tell it seemed to be growing by the hour. She wouldn’t dwell on the past, when her mom was still alive, her dad was happy and Becca didn’t worry about boyfriends...or babies.
