by Leigh Riker
Dallas seemed about to say more when Seth burst through the back door, then floated down the steps. “I brought all my books. You can choose which one to read first.”
“Looks like a long afternoon,” Dallas said, daring to brush her cheek with the back of his hand. He looked into her eyes. “Reading, mowing...and maybe we can talk later. You and me. Could all that earn this sorry excuse for a guy dinner?”
She supposed that was his way—charming at that, even dear—to apologize. Elizabeth held up a hand. Her little boy had charged up to them, books flying everywhere. “Seth, slow down.” But she was also addressing Dallas, who wasn’t any kind of poor excuse for a man. He just couldn’t be the one for her, long-term. Could he?
As Seth sat cross-legged in the grass under the big oak tree and fanned the books like a deck of cards for Dallas’s inspection, he and Elizabeth stared at each other over her son’s head for a long moment before she said, “Yes, you can stay for dinner.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
DALLAS HAD SPENT that evening and most nights of the following week at Lizzie’s house. That first dinner had broken the ice between them, for which he felt more than grateful. Tonight, they’d cooked hamburgers and hot dogs on her grill, then eaten at the picnic table in her backyard to the songs of crickets and a few late-summer cicadas. The evening hadn’t cooled much from the day’s earlier heat, but as the stars and mosquitoes began to come out, they moved inside. All five of them.
In the living room Dallas discussed rodeo with Jordan, who seemed beside himself about tomorrow’s big event, and Dallas tried to talk Lizzie into letting the boy ride. Well, almost. She was still “reserving judgment” before she’d make her final decision. He hoped it would be the one Jordan wanted. Dallas understood her concern for his safety but thought she was needlessly prolonging Jordan’s begging.
When he set up the video for him to watch again, Lizzie merely rolled her eyes as if she was about to give up on her son and Dallas.
Her youngest (not really the youngest now, he realized) lay in Dallas’s lap, which seemed to have become his favorite spot. Dallas could get used to this warm feeling of being part of a family, especially when Hadley was barely talking to him since he’d let Dallas know about Lizzie’s pregnancy. Wearing a smile that wouldn’t go away, Dallas read a few more books to Seth, whose eyelids had started to droop. Lizzie and Stella sat on the sofa, perusing an issue of a children’s magazine, their heads close together. Stella refused to look at him. “Seth would hear about Janie Wants to Be a Cowgirl all night,” Lizzie said. “Believe me, I know. That book has been handed down, it seems, by every kid in Barren.”
“Read again,” Seth said in a sleepy tone, making her and Dallas laugh.
Minutes later, with his head on Dallas’s shoulder, he began to snore lightly, clutching the spotted horse model Dallas had bought him in Serenity. Dallas glanced at Lizzie. “I think he’s out cold.” He’d given Jordan a video of the kids’ rodeo there. Stella still hadn’t looked at the pretty patterned scarf he’d bought her with cowgirl boots on it.
“It’s past Seth’s bedtime. Everyone’s bedtime,” Lizzie said, reminding Dallas of the night the kids had come home from Colorado. Before he knew exactly how connected he was to her family.
He cradled Seth close, then carried him upstairs with Lizzie and Stella behind. He could feel Stella’s glare boring through his back. He sighed.
“Jordan,” Lizzie called down the steps. “Turn off that TV. You need to come up to bed. Now.”
Grumbling, Jordan obeyed, but in the upstairs hall he grinned when Dallas gave him a fist bump and said, “Every good cowboy knows that rest is a requirement.” A slight exaggeration, yet it seemed to work. Jordan was in bed before Stella. Finally, everyone was settled, and Dallas stood in the hall. Lizzie joined him after helping Seth say his prayers.
“Every cowboy?” she asked with a pointed look.
“Well, not all,” he said, then slipped an arm around her shoulders. Maybe she’d forgiven him for his trip to Serenity, if not his first reaction to her pregnancy. They needed to talk. Too bad he still didn’t know what to say.
Together, they went downstairs. “Thanks for helping me put them to bed,” she said.
“No problem.” Dallas reached for her hand. They’d been dancing around each other all evening. If she thought he was going home now, she was wrong about that. “Didn’t do bad for my first time.” He drew her to the sofa and sat beside her, their fingers still clasped. “Maybe there’s hope for me yet.”
“Hope for what?”
“Something more,” he ventured. He held her gaze, his eyes serious. This wasn’t just about whatever relationship they could have, not about this pleasant evening or any other they’d spent with her kids. “What I said before about dealing with this? I don’t know exactly how, but we can—if that’s what you want too. Yeah, I was mad when I found out you were pregnant, but not because of that, just because you didn’t tell me yourself. I’d never leave you to manage this on your own.” He hesitated. “I, uh, know how that feels.”
She stiffened. “I don’t want you to feel obligated.”
“I’m already part of this, but that’s not what I meant. I mean I know how it feels—felt once—to be utterly alone.”
Her gaze softened. “You mean when you were a little boy?”
Ever since he’d come to Barren to see Hadley last Christmas, the memories he thought he’d left behind years ago hadn’t let him be. Each time he almost let them in, they seemed to draw closer, tighter around him, to become more vivid. They would never leave unless he took them out, looked at them, deprived them of their power, and it was Lizzie he wanted to tell now.
He ran a hand through his hair. “A while ago my mom said she thinks that, because of what I went through then, I’ve been standing in my own way. I told you Hadley and I got separated years ago, didn’t see each other for a couple of decades, but before you and I go any further, I want you to know the rest.” He cleared his throat. “Our folks threw us out like garbage when I was about five years old and Hadley was seven. The state took over,” he said. “In foster care we moved around, house to house, family to family, and we stayed together, but we never belonged anywhere.” Except with each other.
“Were there good people who cared for you?”
“Some, sure. Others, not much.” He stared down at his hands. “My worst was the last place with Hadley. They already had a bunch of foster kids, made a nice living off them. The couple drove fancy cars, wore fine clothes, ate well...we got the dregs. There was rarely enough to eat and I’m talking mac and cheese from a box, mostly. Stuff like that.” Lizzie sat stone-faced, listening but not saying a word. “Pathetic, huh?” He swallowed hard. “The discipline could get rough. Their abuse scared me, but it made Hadley mad.”
“He’s a good big brother,” she murmured, her voice tight.
He shook his head. “I’m not telling you this to gain sympathy. I just want you to know what you’re dealing with here. My mom also said she can see the damage in me.” The images rolled through his head like an old film. “I never fought back, but Hadley did, so they often punished me for something—didn’t have to be anything much—that my brother had done. That last time, they shut me in the bedroom we’d shared, locked him out. They didn’t feed me for days. Hadley was afraid I’d starve to death. So was I. When he got desperate enough, my then ten-year-old brother took food for me from the corner store.”
“Because he loved you,” she murmured.
Dallas’s throat ached. “When the store owner contacted the authorities, the state investigated then took us out of that house—that was the good part—but Hadley was sent to juvenile detention. After he got out, I don’t know where he went. By then I was with the Maguires. His record was sealed.”
She touched his arm. “Dallas, that’s dreadful.” Her voice sounded hoarse. “You were just l
ittle boys. Like Jordan and Seth.” Lizzie hesitated. “My friend Annabelle had a similar experience except she was an only child. You should talk to her sometime.”
“Maybe, but it’s a miracle Hadley and I found each other again. Mom was right about me. I think, because of all that, I...freaked out about the baby. I’ve never liked being cornered, which is how that felt at first.” Like Calvin. “But I take full responsibility. I’ll gladly pay support, but I can’t offer you the kind of life you thought you had with Harry, that you must still need now.” He held up his hands. “So, where do we go from here?”
Her gaze held the sympathy he hadn’t wanted. Her touch on his arm was like a healing balm. “I understand better now what you went through as a child. I think that’s why you’re completely devoted to the Maguires, why you want to see them cared for, even why you don’t want a...wife and family.” She withdrew her hand from his. “But for me, a part-time relationship would never work. If I needed proof, all I’d have to do is think of my divorce. Of how life was before that with Harry. Oh, Dallas. The timing is still wrong. For both of us.”
He couldn’t answer that. He didn’t have those words either, only the soft look in her eyes that told him maybe there was a solution for them, even after he’d just spilled his darkest secret. Dallas held her gaze with his, knowing his eyes must show her how serious he was.
When he took her in his arms, she didn’t resist, and he had the oddest feeling this was where she belonged too. “Ah, Lizzie,” he whispered, then his mouth covered hers. Dallas put a little more into this kiss than he had before, savoring the feel of her lips until it finally ended, and to Dallas’s utter astonishment, she laughed. After he’d shared his worst time with her tonight, she’d stayed in his arms, that sheer, unexpected joy wrapped around them like another warm embrace. “We must be crazy,” was all she said. And laughed again.
Dallas wished this tentative truce between them wasn’t so fragile, but if they weren’t straight with each other, they wouldn’t have any chance at all. “We don’t have the answers yet,” he said. “But I think they’re worth looking for.”
Dallas couldn’t say where this moment might take them, but the possibility had been there in her laughter, and for now it was enough. After the rodeo, they’d see.
* * *
“ARE YOU ALL RIGHT?” Lizzie asked Dallas.
“I’m fine. Why?”
It was Rodeo Day! At last, but his stomach was already tied in double knots. Even when he’d spotted her getting out of her car, the three kids in tow, and returned their waves, he’d felt close to running for the nearby Porta Potty.
Lizzie saw through his weak defense. “Really? You look very pale.”
In Serenity too, Calvin had pointed out his pallor. It was always like that, and at the moment he couldn’t even appreciate the uber-Western getups Lizzie’s children wore today. Jordan and Seth flaunted plaid shirts with the requisite pearl snaps, jeans and shiny boots. Though Stella sent him a jaundiced look, she apparently had some rodeo spirit too with a tan fringed leather skirt, green cowboy boots and a Barren Elementary School T-shirt. To his surprise, around her neck she wore the patterned scarf he’d bought her. The children had scattered, looking for their friends and checking out the horses in the paddock.
“I’ve been working since dawn,” he told Lizzie. “No breakfast. No time.”
“Clara didn’t feed you? I can’t believe that. You’re nervous, aren’t you?”
“Stage fright keeps me sharp. Gets the adrenaline flowing.”
Earlier, he’d helped Calvin and Hadley ready the horses and bulls, checked the makeshift gate they’d rigged up to the makeshift arena, even made a tour of the makeshift bleachers to test their strength, all the while he suffered from internal panic. It’s not as if this is the Finals, he thought, but people had begun streaming in half an hour ago, and the seats were filling up. His rodeo had been an idea before, a fantasy that had now become real.
It looked like every pickup truck in town was here. He saw Sawyer McCord get out of his truck with Olivia. They’d gotten home from Kedar only the day before so Sawyer could ride, jet-lagged as he must be. Cooper and Nell were already here, talking to friends and showing off her baby bump. He spied Clara bustling toward the white tents on the lawn. Dallas searched the crowd for Ace O’Leary, even though he knew his agent probably wouldn’t come. Dallas hadn’t talked to him in a while.
Soon it would be showtime. Sure, he’d won first place at Serenity’s local rodeo, this was not an official PBR event either, and he felt good today, but if he didn’t ride well, he’d have to face an ugly truth. Never mind that his hip had fully healed. His career might well be over or on its way. Then what? He’d be looking at the plan B he’d told Lizzie about. Stock contracting, TV, a ranch of his own, maybe even staying in Barren but without rodeo in his life.
He wiped a hand across his sweating forehead. “Really heating up out here. Gonna be a hot one. Did you give any more thought to Jordan competing?”
Lizzie hadn’t answered before her son raced out of the nearby barn and ran up to them. “Can I, Mom? Huh?” he asked as if he’d been standing there and overheard.
“May I,” Lizzie corrected him with an absent look. “How many times have I been asked that question, Jordan?”
Dallas twisted his bull rope in his shaking hands. He shouldn’t interfere. He wasn’t the boy’s father, so he should butt out. On the other hand, Lizzie was carrying his child, which ought to give him some rights. Might as well say what was on his mind. Dallas said mildly, “He’s a kid, Lizzie. Let him be one.”
She studied him, then Jordan, and let out a long breath. “I take no responsibility for this decision, but you may enter the mutton busting—”
Dallas interrupted her. “Looks like Jordan’s had a growth spurt this summer. His legs are long enough now, his feet would probably touch the ground. I’d say the sheep are out for him.”
“Steer riding, then?” Jordan’s eyes had all but popped out of his head.
“He’s old enough,” Dallas pointed out. “And the kids actually ride calves.”
She threw up her hands. “All of my fears for both of you have fallen on deaf ears. I hope you’re right. Okay, steers,” she said, and Jordan let out a whoop. He jumped up to give Lizzie a kiss even though, because of his age, he must consider any public show of affection to be uncool. Certainly, Dallas had as a kid, even with his mom.
He toyed with his bull rope again. “Jordan, better get over to the registration desk. You too,” he told Lizzie, wishing he didn’t have to say the rest, which concerned injury. “There’s a waiver you’ll need to sign, and it’s almost time for him to cowboy up.”
Lizzie jabbed a finger in Dallas’s chest. “If he breaks a leg, I will hold you responsible.” Her brow knitted. “And how safe will you be? Those are real bulls, tons of muscle, and your hand is trembling.”
His voice husky, he held her gaze. “That’s not because of the bulls.” Well, that too.
“All right, Romeo.” Glancing around at the now-crowded stands behind them, Lizzie said, “I’d give you a kiss for luck but—”
He sighed. “I know. People will talk. You’re right.” They shouldn’t jeopardize her kids.
Indeed, he spied Bernice Caldwell in the stands, and—was that Claudia Monroe? Did Lizzie realize her mother was here? Dallas turned his head and, through a gap in the bleachers, saw his own parents getting out of a taxi. He stared. Naturally they’d known about his rodeo, but he’d never expected them to actually be here. How could his mom travel?
His pulse, revved up by his closeness to Lizzie, settled a bit, but his hands still shook and his stomach rolled. He always wanted to ride well. Now his folks would be watching. So would Lizzie. So would Jordan. People were depending on him.
Stage fright or not, he really had to make sure his backside didn’t land in that dirt.
> * * *
ELIZABETH’S MOTHER DIDN’T stay long in the bleachers. As soon as the parade to kick off the rodeo began, and before Elizabeth took her seat, Claudia scrambled down to confront her, and for an instant Elizabeth thought someone had told her about the baby. “That cowboy has been making up to your children now,” her mother said. “My grandchildren.”
“Whom you rarely bother to see.” Elizabeth’s stomach tightened. But it seemed Dallas had been right. Her mother at a rodeo. “Why on earth are you here?”
“I’ve brought my prize-winning hydrangeas, the lavender ones. They won at the last county fair held in Barren. Bernice has entered her heirloom tomatoes.” A likely excuse for both of them. She and Bernice were here to judge, all right, but not the produce or flowers.
Elizabeth didn’t want this confrontation any more than she had at Olivia’s shop, yet maybe the time, as Dallas once said, had finally come.
Claudia sniffed at the parade going on without them. She drew Elizabeth around the end of the bleachers to a quieter spot. “How anyone could like this...sport is beyond me.”
“Something on which we agree,” Elizabeth murmured, still fearing her day could end in the emergency room with Jordan’s arm in a cast. She didn’t want to think about Dallas.
The air, which was already full of dust motes, carried the gamy aroma of untamed animals. In the background the bulls paced in their pens, pawing the ground. The horses in the paddock whinnied among themselves, stirring up more dirt as they danced in place as if to the strains of the national anthem now being played. The scents of grilling meat and cotton candy wafted to her from the nearby food stands.
“Elizabeth,” her mother said, “listen to me. You’d risk your reputation with this man? I did not raise my daughter to end up living in some hovel on a run-down ranch.”
