by Jane Porter
“What do you mean?”
“What do you mean?”
“We talk about everything, I mean, everything, but he has never shared anything about her, or why he married her, or why they divorced, and I’m the only one in the family who knows about the Vegas wedding.”
“Do you even know her name?”
“No. For some reason I kept thinking it was Briar, but I’ve no proof.”
“Briar?”
“I don’t even know where I got that from because Tommy doesn’t discuss it. He never told anyone else about the wedding, and until now, I never told anyone else. So you’re privy to a Wyatt secret.”
“Was he drunk when he married her?”
“No.”
“Was she pregnant?”
“No idea.” Billy glanced at Erika. Her eyes were wide, her expression baffled. “Tommy has never talked about it.”
“Why didn’t he want the rest of your family to know?”
“Mom made it clear that there were only two things we couldn’t fail at—one was marriage and the other was birth control. If we were going to marry, we needed to make it work, and if we were going to have sex, we better condom up.”
“And yet you and April…”
“A definite shocker since we’d used protection. I’d used protection.”
“So Tommy has kept his secret because he doesn’t want to disappoint your mom?”
“No. He’s kept his secret because there is more to the story, and for whatever reason, he doesn’t want anyone to know the story.”
“How long ago was this?”
“Three years? Four? It’s been a while now.”
“Wow.”
“I know.” Billy put on the signal for the turn to his property. “And now you’ve got to keep the secret, too.”
She drew her legs up on the seat. “Why did you tell me?”
“Because I trust you.” He gave her a long, knowing look. “And I think it’s time you trusted yourself.”
*
Back at the cabin, Erika showered and dressed, while playing Billy’s words in her head. He trusted her, and he thought it was time she trusted herself.
What did that even mean?
It was so frustrating. He was so frustrating. There was something between them but she had no idea what it was.
He was flirty, and fun, and sometimes serious, but it was never more.
Well, there was that tension, the one they both worked hard to ignore, but sexual tension wasn’t a relationship. Sexual tension was what Billy was best at.
He didn’t do relationships. He just had sex.
If she was open to it, she thought he’d probably have sex with her.
She wasn’t open to it, though. She wanted him, but not that way. Or at least, not only that way. Sex with him wasn’t enough. She didn’t just want an orgasm, she wanted love. She wanted his heart.
Unlike Billy, she didn’t have a close family. She didn’t have a clan. She needed people of her own, her family, and she wouldn’t settle for less. She couldn’t. Love was too important.
Billy grilled steaks that night using just his right arm. He had her help him in the kitchen, washing potatoes and salting before wrapping in foil, and then rinsing the romaine lettuce for a salad. But he seasoned the steaks on his own, and then managed to light and clean the outdoor grill.
She carried the potatoes and platter of steaks outside to him, and then after checking on Beck, who was bouncing wildly in his bouncy seat, leaned against the column on the back porch and watched Billy put the potatoes on. “We’ll need to wait for the steaks,” he said.
He’d showered when he returned, and his hair was wet, slicked back, showing off his impressive bone structure. He was a handsome man even straight out of the shower. “Did any of your family wonder about you buying a cabin in southwest Utah?”
“Joe was disappointed. He’s hoping some of us will settle on the ranch, help him out, but that’s not me. Who knows? Tommy might.”
“Don’t you miss your mom and grandfather when you’re here?”
“I try to see them every month or two, even if just for a day. Planning on taking Beck home before too long. Thinking of heading there for Mother’s Day.”
“When is Mother’s Day?” she asked.
“Mid May, second Sunday of May, I believe.” His eyebrows lifted. “I thought all women knew stuff like that.”
“The last time I sent my mom a card it came back unopened.” She shrugged. “I never bothered to send another one. If she doesn’t want a relationship with me, I’m not going to force it.”
“But you miss her.”
“I miss…” She exhaled and the words died. It didn’t matter. It wasn’t going to change her mom, or her family dynamics. You couldn’t make people want you. You couldn’t make people love you. They either did, or they didn’t. Better to come to terms with reality, better to have acceptance. “Actually, I don’t miss her. I don’t miss the family I was raised with. It wasn’t ideal.”
“You fight with yourself all the time.”
“What do you mean?”
“I think you want acceptance, but don’t have it. And I think you want a family, but you’re not sure you’ll get it… or you deserve it. Which I think is crazy because you’re one of the most together women I’ve ever met—”
“Not saying a lot, based on the women you meet.”
“Do you have a boyfriend?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I’m too invested in my degree.”
“Just because you’re studying, doesn’t mean you can’t date, or have someone serious in your life.”
“Maybe I haven’t met anyone that I liked enough to include in my life.”
“That’s fair,” he replied.
There was something about the conversation that made her breath catch, and her heart ache. He made her feel so much. She didn’t know how he did it.
Erika turned away and gazed out, focusing on the horizon. The sun was beginning to set, long golden rays of light outlining the hills, dappling the field below the cabin with shadows. A deer grazed in the shadowed pasture, and then a fawn, carefully picking its way through the grass to join its mother.
“Do you see?” Billy asked, pointing to the pasture.
She nodded. “Love it. You’re lucky to have a little slice of paradise. No traffic, no noise, no neighbors. Just deer.”
“And coyotes, raccoons, skunks, birds.” He opened the lid on the grill and turned the potatoes over before adding the steaks. “I’ve never been here for this long at one time. It’s been good.” He closed the lid. “The steaks won’t take long. Want to check on Beck? Maybe finish up the salad? I’ll be inside in just a bit.”
Erika returned to the kitchen, made the salad and lifted Beck from his bouncy seat, carrying him on her hip as she lifted down the dishes, and brought the butter and sour cream from the refrigerator. She could hear Billy’s voice from outside. Glancing out the French doors, she could see he was on the phone talking to someone.
She couldn’t hear very much, just a few words here and there. Trip. Mother’s Day. And then something about a rodeo.
Erika strained to hear more, but Billy wasn’t saying much, just answering with one-word replies now and then.
She looked down at Beck who was doing his best to worm his hand into her mouth and she kissed it instead. “Everything is good,” she said to him. “Everything is great.”
Chapter Ten
The next morning, Erika struggled to get real work done. She’d been sitting on her bed for a couple hours but was stuck on the same sentence.
Frustrated, she climbed off the bed and headed for the kitchen to refresh her water glass. The living room was empty. No Beck and no Billy.
On her way back to her room she checked the two other bedrooms. They were both empty as well. Where were the boys? What were they doing?
She left the house, her gaze sweeping the corral, seeing just the horse
s outside grazing. As she entered the barn she could hear Billy’s voice.
“You’re not going to start roping from the saddle. That’s not how we’re going to do it. We’ll just start with a rope just like this, and the dummy head. We’re going to do lots and lots of drills, building muscle memory, so your body remembers what it’s doing, no matter what the horse does.”
She peeked around the stable to an open area of the barn where Billy had spread a blanket on the ground and propped Beck up against a saddle. Billy was practicing roping the dummy head positioned on a hay bale. “Nice and easy,” he said, throwing the rope and catching the dummy’s horns perfectly. “Always both horns. You need the tip of the rope to go over the horns smoothly. It’s going to take a lot of practice, but you’ll get it. I used to do this a hundred times a day or more when I was a boy. You’ll need to wear a glove or you’ll tear up your hand, but even then you’re going to get calluses. You want calluses. Otherwise your hands will always be a mess.”
“Getting him ready for the rodeo circuit?” she said, stepping around the door, and into view.
“He’s a Wyatt. He’s going to need to know how to rope.”
She didn’t contradict him, she simply smiled and returned to the house, and her room, and the computer.
She felt angry, though, as she closed the door of the bedroom and then sat back down on her bed with the computer.
She didn’t want to be in here, not while they were out there. She wanted to be with them. She liked being with them, and in their company, she relaxed, something she’d always found it hard to do. The more time she spent here at the cabin, the more relaxed she felt. She’d never been someone who just hung out. She was always doing something, reading something, trying to accomplish more things, but in the past few weeks she’d wanted to read less and accomplish less, and just… be.
Just breathe.
She picked up her laptop but her heart wasn’t in it. She thought of all the things she’d rather be doing.
Going for a drive.
Doing another hike.
Stopping somewhere for lunch and homemade pie.
She wanted more of the life she’d experienced lately, more companionship, more fun, more happiness. The life she wanted was here, but it wasn’t hers, not forever. If only it could be. If only the dream could be a reality.
*
The week passed slowly, with Erika more anxious by the day about her dissertation. She wasn’t getting it done. She wasn’t making sufficient progress. The guilt and worry filled her. She was in trouble, but she struggled with the isolation in her room.
While she battled, Billy was healing, becoming more mobile by the day. He’d stopped wearing his sling as consistently as he had in the beginning. She tried to caution him against doing too much but she noticed he ignored her feedback and did what he wanted.
He was trying hard to keep Beck busy, too, taking him from her for big chunks of the day so she could work, and Erika appreciated it, but since she wasn’t making significant progress, she just felt bad that Billy was trying so hard to help her and she couldn’t even help herself.
Today was one of the worst days in a long time, too. Erika couldn’t even focus enough to write a sentence. A sentence! She’d draft one sentence, then delete it. Then rewrite it. Then delete it.
Erika felt like hurling her computer across the room. This wasn’t working. She wasn’t working. Was it bad to just want to enjoy herself?
Erika had never cared much for TV—she didn’t even own one at the moment—but in the past couple of weeks her favorite thing to do was watch the nightly news with Billy, and then every evening after Beck was put to bed, they’d watch a program, and talk. They talked about everything and even though they frequently had different viewpoints, Billy always listened to her thoughts, just as she listened to his. She even liked his TV programs which were different from anything she’d ever watched—Gold Rush and Building Off the Grid.
He liked DIY programs and learning how to build things and just last night she asked if he’d ever built anything and he’d nodded, gesturing to the space they were in. “This,” he’d said.
“This cabin?” she’d asked.
“I hired a builder, but I worked alongside him. Every moment when I wasn’t competing, I was here.”
“It must have saved you a lot of money.”
“It would have, if I’d stopped upgrading everything.” He smiled. “But I enjoyed being part of the build. It was really satisfying.”
“And the barn? Same builder?”
“No. I did that, with Tommy, after the house was completed. You’ll notice it’s pretty basic in comparison.”
But the barn wasn’t basic, and Billy’s skills weren’t basic, but he was so modest, never wanting compliments, uncomfortable being fussed over. Was it being the third son that had made him uncomfortable being praised, or was he not praised very often growing up?
He’d told her he’d been dyslexic, he’d said he’d struggled in school, he’d clearly resented being made to feel as if he wasn’t bright enough. Good enough. It stirred her sympathy because he was just the opposite—bright, hardworking, nonjudgmental of others.
A truly good person.
Last night, as they finished watching the TV show, she’d snuck glances at him, taking in the big shoulders, his broad chest, and that beautiful face of his. Just looking at him made her insides feel fluttery. So fluttery.
She was head over heels. Nothing good could come of this. But it was too late to turn back, too late to save herself. She was already in way too deep.
*
After dinner that evening, Billy watched Erika give Beck a bath in the kitchen sink. The sleeves on her red sweater were pushed up to her elbows, her long blonde hair high in a ponytail on the top of her head. She had bubbles on one forearm, and a small cluster of bubbles on her chin. She was happy, laughing, as Beck vigorously splashed bath water. The more she laughed, the harder Beck splashed, sending water and suds everywhere.
She looked like she could be Beck’s mom. They were both fair, they both had light eyes, they both laughed with the same joy.
Beck seemed to think she was his mom. He lit up every time she entered the room. And thanks to Erika’s attention, Beck was becoming a very contented baby. He gurgled and cooed, and made babbling noises as he waved his hands.
But then, how could anyone be unhappy around Erika? Lately, she was full of sunshine and light, confidence and optimism.
He felt protective of her. He loved it when she laughed, loved making her laugh, and he tried to make her laugh as much as he could.
He rose from his chair and stepped into the kitchen. “I’m thinking of going home for Mother’s Day. Do you want to go with us?”
She reached for a washcloth and wiped bubbles from her eyelashes. “Is that a good idea?” she asked.
“Why wouldn’t it be?”
“Just don’t want to give your family the wrong idea about us.”
He frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I just think if I show up with you, they’re going to think it’s odd that I’m still hanging around two months later.”
“They know you’re here. They know you’re the one taking care of Beck since I was hurt.”
“Yes, but it’s one thing for me to be here, and another in your family’s home. I don’t want your mom or granddad to think we have a relationship when we don’t. It doesn’t seem fair to give them ideas.”
“That won’t happen. They know me.”
Her expression flickered, her smile slipping before she managed to save it. “Well, that’s a relief.” She turned away from him and pushed up her sleeves higher on her elbows before picking up a towel and reaching for Beck. “Okay, Stormtrooper, we’re getting out.”
Was it his imagination or had she dismissed him? “Need a hand?” Billy asked.
She didn’t even look at him. “Nope. I’ve got it. Go back to your show. I’m good here.”
And she was g
ood, he thought. She was more than good, and she’d carried more than her fair share of the weight around here. She’d managed Beck, managed the house, had even managed him.
Now she was managing to do without him.
He didn’t like it.
He liked doing things together, being together, being partners with her. He wasn’t a fan of being told to go, leave. He didn’t like feeling shut out in his own house.
She was angry with him, and it had to do with his visit to Paradise Valley, as well as other things, things they didn’t discuss. Like the tension simmering between them, a sexual tension he’d never felt with anyone else.
They’d spent weeks together in this cabin without a kiss, weeks where they’d tripped over each other, and avoided each other, weeks where the chemistry crackled and burned.
Billy was done tiptoeing around the attraction, pretending it didn’t exist. He was done tiptoeing around Erika, not wanting to offend her with his constant desire. He wouldn’t apologize for being attracted to her, and he wouldn’t apologize for wanting her.
Because he did want her, he dreamed of taking her to his bed, night after night. He wanted to touch her and feel her. Wanted her mouth and her tongue and her body, every bit he could have, every bit he could touch and taste.
After putting Beck to bed, she returned to the kitchen to rinse out the sink and put the baby shampoo and bath toys away. He’d already done it, though, and when she looked down into the empty, clean sink she then turned toward him, surprised. “Thank you,” she said. “That was nice of you.”
He’d left his chair and was standing on the far side of the kitchen island. “Nice that I’d take care of my son?”
Her chin lifted, and he didn’t know if she was responding to his words or tone. “I only meant that it was nice to have your help. I appreciate it.”
“I try to help.”
“I have never said you don’t.” Her gaze met his, expression fierce. “You’re picking a fight.”
“You started it.”
“I did?” She laughed, even as her hands went to her hips, drawing his eye to her waist, her breasts, her legs. “I don’t think so. I wasn’t the one who suggested dragging me to Montana as if I was the nanny.”
