Dalton Boys Box Set Books 1-5 (The Dalton Boys)

by Em Petrova

  He stopped the swing. “Are you thanking me for loving our son?”

  “Yes. You didn’t have to.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong. A man like me has to.” He set the swing in motion again and she straightened from his hold.

  “Now what?” Her voice was coming slow, as if the day’s events, lots of Momma’s home cooking and her emotions had exhausted her.

  “Now that we’ve established I love Owen and he must know this family, we figure out how to get you on your feet.”

  “I need to teach. It’s the only job that’s important to me.”

  “I know the passion inside you for it, and I respect it deeply.”

  Even in the faint light, he saw surprise flit over her beautiful features. “You do?”

  “Yes. It’s what I feel for this ranch.” And if he wanted his own piece of it, he needed a wife.

  “I guess I need to drive to the neighboring towns and inquire about teaching positions.”

  “That’s one way.”

  “There’s another?”

  He nodded. “When you’ve lived here all your life, you know people and you know things.”

  “What things?”

  “How to ask a friend for a favor.”

  She gave an agitated flick of her head. “No. I don’t want favors, Beck. I want to get a job on my own.”

  “This is how it’s done in schools, isn’t it? You know someone on the school board and your name is discussed as a prime candidate.”

  She swallowed audibly. “I’d feel terrible getting a job that way.”

  “I thought all you wanted was a job. Money and security.”

  She sighed and they swung. The rain was slowing, and Beck felt his own fatigue overtaking him. It had been a hell of a long, emotional day for him too. He’d finally digested that he had a son, been soaked to the skin and eventually kicked by his horse, which had been disgruntled at being made to stand in the rain and herd cows.

  Rubbing a hand over the bruised spot on his outer thigh, he wondered what Sabrina was taking so long to ponder. Was she really so full of pride that she couldn’t accept his offer to talk to his old buddy on the school board? Maybe.

  “Let me think about it, okay, Beck? Tomorrow I’ll look through the newspaper and check some websites for job openings.”

  “Okay. And I haven’t spoken to my parents officially yet, but you’re welcome to stay here as long as you need. You and Owen.”

  She sniffled again. “Thank you.”

  “I’m sure you need things for him, so we’ll head into town tomorrow and get them. Certain foods, diapers, whatever.”

  “Thank you for that too.”

  “No need, honey bun. He’s my son and I’ll provide for him. If you need anything, I’ll do anything in my power to give that too.”

  His strong words turned her face toward him. Moonlight traced its blue fingers along her fine bones and glinted in her big, soft brown eyes. His heart did a wild flop.

  “I don’t know what to say, Beck.”

  “No words necessary. We’re in this together. We’ll figure it out as we go.” He placed his hand over hers, and she turned her palm up to tangle their fingers. “Right now let’s get you and Owen tucked into a comfy room. You’re lucky most of my brothers are out of the house. A year ago, we would have been sleeping on top of each other.”

  Damn, that idea had him as hard as stone. He prayed she didn’t glance at the bulge in his jeans and hoped the shadows disguised it. He may have to take a midnight trip to the barn before he could settle for the night.

  His homeless ex showing up on his doorstep with a son he didn’t know he had suddenly seemed easy to deal with. Being this close to Sabrina was going to be a real ball-splitter.

  * * * * *

  Sabrina was used to the noises of an apartment building, so sleeping through the Dalton boys using the bathroom and going downstairs should be easy.

  If they didn’t sound like a herd of cattle, it would be.

  She tugged the covers over her head and snuggled into her pillow. One of her cardinal rules since Owen’s birth had been “if the baby’s not up, I’m not either.”

  Except she had to pee.

  She strained to hear if anyone was in the bathroom next door. When she didn’t hear anything, she crept out, careful not to wake Owen.

  A few minutes later she tiptoed back into the room and slammed into a wall of muscle. Muscle wearing a Carhartt barn jacket and worn jeans.

  “What are you doing in my room?” she hissed at Beck. Then he turned and she saw what he was holding.

  A very sleepy Owen. The baby put fists to his eyes and rubbed and rubbed. His mouth turned down at the corners. He liked being awakened as much as she did.

  She huffed. “Don’t you know never to wake a sleeping baby?”

  “I figured it would be okay. I wanted to see him.” He caressed Owen’s round head and kissed it.

  “You couldn’t have waited until second breakfast or whatever you call it?” Irritation coiled inside her.

  Beck riveted her in his gaze.

  She’d glimpsed herself in the mirror while washing her hands. Her curls stuck up like porcupine quills and she had the splotchy redness of sleep on her face. Even her cheek was creased from her pillow.

  The corner of his lips cut upward in that mind-stealing crooked smile. His white teeth flashed. Damn him. He even looked good before the sun came up.

  “I’m sorry, honey bun. I know you aren’t a morning person.”

  His nickname for her burrowed deep into her psyche and her body heated in response. The fact that he knew her sleeping and waking habits was unbearably intimate. The center of his big chest looked like the perfect place to rest her head. And his country drawl was the best lullaby.

  From the glow of the nightlight, she saw his smile falter, his lips harden. Annoyance smacked her between the eyes, waking her completely. How stupid could she be? Beck hadn’t wanted her then, and he sure didn’t now.

  She yanked Owen back into her arms. He started to cry. “Now look what you did,” she bit off.

  “I’m pretty sure you’re the one who made him cry.”

  “I did not. You woke him up, and he’s a very heavy sleeper. Don’t you have horses or chickens to bother this early?”

  The muscle flutter was back in his jaw. It ticked as rhythmically as a clock. Owen’s wail filled the room, shattering the last of Sabrina’s nerves.

  “I’ll leave you be.” Beck’s voice was harsh.

  “Goodbye.” She practically shut him in the door. Intolerable man.

  Why was she pressing her ear against the wood to listen to his footsteps fade if she hated him so much?

  She gave a low growl, and Owen cried harder.

  Swallowing some tears of her own, she sank to the bed and tried to shush the baby. She rocked and sang quietly, but he wasn’t having any of it.

  He batted at her then stuffed a fist in his mouth and gnawed. Great. He was teething on top of being cranky.

  There was a soft knock on the door. She jumped up and whipped open the door, prepared to box Beck Dalton’s ears. Her jaw dropped open as she saw Mrs. Dalton standing there in a fluffy robe, her hair flattened on one side.

  “I’m sorry for the noise,” Sabrina said.

  “I know a cry of pain when I hear one. Is everything all right?”

  No. All wrong. I’m in a strange house with people I don’t know well and a man I know too well. I have no job, no money and no way to raise my baby without your generosity.

  Sabrina hid her quivering lips against Owen’s skull and nodded. “He’s teething I think,” she said thickly.

  “Ah, I wondered yesterday. He was drooling so much. Come downstairs with me. I have a good remedy for painful gums.” With that, she turned, expecting Sabrina to follow.

  She looked after her for a minute before Owen smacked her in the cheek with one tight fist. What choice did she have? She didn’t even have Tylenol in her diaper bag and
only about three dollars to her name.

  Thank goodness Beck had offered to take her into town later.

  She descended the stairs and found Mrs. Dalton in the kitchen dumping things into a bowl. As Sabrina entered, she bounced Owen, hoping to soothe him.

  “The first teeth are hard. But wait until his brother loosens one with his fist in a brawl over a cowboy hat.” Mrs. Dalton shot Sabrina a humored look.

  “Beck?” she asked, aware her voice was throaty from sleep.

  “Yes. That boy was always fighting his brothers. As youngest, I think he tried to show off more. Prove something.”

  Sabrina pressed her lips together, aching a little that Owen wouldn’t have a brother to fight with. Sure, Sabrina was young and had plenty of time for marriage and more children—she just wasn’t into the idea. Maybe because she had other things to worry about—like a place to live.

  “What are you mixing?” She leaned against the counter and jostled the crying baby.

  “A little chamomile. It soothes sore gums and calms. Also, a little rose hip syrup.”

  “What does it do?”

  Mrs. Dalton mixed the ingredients and scooped some on a baby spoon. “Rose hips are full of vitamin C. Sometimes the child’s immune system is affected by teething. May I give it to him?”

  Her green eyes—totally different from Beck’s—had a network of creases around each. Happy creases. She’d had a good life.

  Would Sabrina look that way in her golden years? She nodded her permission.

  With the most practiced of touches, Mrs. Dalton steadied Owen’s head and stuck the spoon into his gaped mouth. He slammed his mouth shut in indignation. Then sucked the spoon greedily.

  They shared a laugh. “I think he’s hungry too.”

  “I have no idea why. He’s never awake this early. It’s not a time humans should be vertical.”

  Mrs. Dalton smiled. “Sit and hold him while that concoction works its magic and I’ll make him a bottle.”

  Sabrina practically collapsed onto the bench. The room was homey with authentic country touches. Rather than an expensive ceramic pot of herbs growing on the windowsill, there was an earthenware crock. And things like checked placemats and a basket of fresh eggs completed the look.

  Mrs. Dalton didn’t speak as she warmed one of the bottles Sabrina had mixed the previous day. The old wooden clock ticked and the first faint colors of sunrise peeked through the window.

  Everything about the moment comforted Sabrina. Plus, nobody had ever helped her with Owen, so having someone else fix a bottle felt like the most decadent pleasure. She sighed, Owen warm and heavy in her arms. He’d stopped crying but still whined.

  When Beck’s mother handed her the bottle, she looked up with a smile. “Thank you, Mrs. Dalton.”

  “Maggie, please.”

  Nodding, she stuck the bottle in her hungry boy’s mouth and they both watched him drink for long minutes. Finally, Maggie roused. “I’m sorry I’m not good company in the morning.”

  “Believe me, I get it.”

  “That’s why we have second breakfast, you know. Because I’m as mean as a devil if I have to get up and fry eggs before I’m ready.”

  Sabrina laughed despite the graininess of sleep. “Your son is responsible for this, you know. He came into my room and woke Owen.”

  At that, Maggie’s silvery brows shot up. “Did he?”

  “Yes, and I have no idea why.”

  “Don’t you, dear? He probably woke up wondering if he’d dreamed yesterday.”

  Sabrina started. She’d never considered such a thing, only that he’d been awake and thought everyone else should be. Maggie’s theory was a bloom of tenderness in Sabrina’s heart.

  If it is really the case. He was probably just being a pain in the ass.

  Owen gulped the last drops of milk and reclined in her arms, eyes closed. Maggie bobbed her head in satisfaction. “The chamomile makes some children sleep. My boys always did too. Now why don’t you take him back upstairs and steal a couple more hours yourself?”

  “Only if you do.”

  “I fully intend to, dear. See you at second breakfast.”

  * * * * *

  Beck strode into the paddock with purpose—and a shit-eating grin on his face. He’d really disgruntled Sabrina. Somehow knowing he could still get under her skin amused the hell out of him.

  Usually their disagreements ended with their clothing strewn around them and their mouths on bare skin.

  Even knowing they wouldn’t end up sleeping together didn’t cramp his good mood.

  He clapped the dust off his gloves and a small cloud rose before him, hanging in the stagnant, pre-rain air. By midmorning he’d be up to his ankles in mud, but then he could go inside and see them.

  “What’s got you in such a good mood?” Kade asked as he unclipped a length of rope from his belt. He drew up, set his sights on a horse and tossed the rope. The circlet landed squarely on Kade’s choice.

  Beck snorted. “I don’t know why you bother to rope it. You could hold out a lump of sugar and it would come right to you. That horse is broken.”

  Kade threw him a look. “That’s because I know how to break a horse in a coupla days. You wanna take lessons from me?”

  “Pfff.” Beck eyed the horse he wanted. After working it all day yesterday, it had kicked him. But that wasn’t stopping him from another go-round. They needed these horses broken and the best way to do that was ride them.

  Gripping his rope, he slowly approached the horse. From the fence, he heard the laughter of his other three brothers, who tended to show up together now that they had marriage in common.

  “Mornin’, boys,” Hank drawled.

  “Maybe we should call Beck a man now. We know his sperm is mature.”

  Several chuckles. Beck turned his head away.

  “What’s really going on with your lady, Beck?”

  He tightened his lips and reached for the horse. When it shied away—no, bucked away—several hoots came from the peanut gallery outside the fence.

  “She ain’t my lady.”

  “But she once was.”

  Keeping his gaze on the horse, Beck said, “It’s obvious that child is mine. But I didn’t know about him until yesterday.”

  “What the…” Cash’s words were low but Beck heard them well enough.

  Damn, he’d better get this discussion out of the way before bothering with the horse. He walked to the fence and propped his arms on it. “Gather ‘round, y’all. I’ll only say this once.”

  Feeling free from Beck’s rule, the horse trotted by, near enough that Beck felt the brush of hide against his sleeve.

  Witt guffawed. “That beast thinks he’s boss, brother.”

  “Yeah, I’m about to show him otherwise. But listen. About Sabrina—”

  “Wait. She’s the reason you were left nekkid in the middle of nowhere and I had to pick you up?” Cash asked.

  Witt whooped. “There’s a family secret we don’t know about?”

  Cash fell to the telling and his other brothers to laughing at Beck, so he walked away. There was no point in listening. He knew the story firsthand. Besides, he had a horse to break.

  Beck should have an easier time with the animal now that it’d been saddled, but this one was letting Beck know he wasn’t up for day two in the rain and muck.

  What they needed to establish was trust. The edgy horse needed to know what Beck expected and he needed to know the horse’s boundaries. Apparently one day in the fields was the horse’s limit.

  He walked toward the animal slowly, using body language to move it the way he wanted. The horse watched Beck very carefully but remained calm and curious. Since the horse hadn’t been worked much, Beck had to be careful not to injure it. But a second day with a rider for a strapping horse like this should be easy.

  Extending one arm sent the horse in the direction Beck wanted. As he trotted away, Beck drank in the beauty and let it calm his riled nerves. A running
horse was the best sight in the world.

  But this morning when Beck had spotted his son’s sleeping face, an utter joy had lifted in him. Then Sabrina had come in with red cheeks and tousled hair, wearing a nightgown barely skimming her knees and overly tight in her breasts…

  Damn. There goes the calm.

  “Beck! Come back and tell us all about this woman who’d leave you stranded with nothing but a guitar in the middle of nowhere!” Kade called.

  He grunted and continued his work. Ignoring them, he talked to the horse. “You need a name. I can’t keep calling you Horse.”

  It trotted, dark brown mane streaming and its head canted proudly. Beck positioned himself to stop the flow of energy. They faced each other, and he saw a challenge worth taking.

  “You’re a pain in my ass, fo’ sure. Maybe that’s your name.”

  The beast stamped a foot, irritated that Beck was blocking his run. When Beck stepped to the side and opened his arms, the horse took off again.

  “You’re nothing but trouble, but I know just how to break you.” The word stuck out in his mind. “Trouble. That’s what I’ll call you.”

  His brothers, chafed at not getting the dirty details about Beck and Sabrina, moved off to the barn. Beck remained in the round pen for a long time, exercising Trouble and giving him simple commands.

  Trust. This was all a game of trust.

  “Beck.”

  He jerked his head at the feminine voice. When had the last remnants of night faded? It was still overcast and gloomy with that choking feel to the air just before it stormed, but he’d obviously been out here for several hours.

  He twisted to see Sabrina standing at the fence, a blue bundle in her arms. His heart gave a wild dance and he abandoned his work to meet her.

  Grin spreading, he spotted the blue and green striped hat covering Owen’s round head. He plucked it off and dropped his nose to the soft, dark hair.

  “Beck,” she started to protest, but her eyes went all sparkly and soft. Her hair frizzed from the humidity and she was wearing his favorite red color.

  He couldn’t stop himself if he tried.

  He cupped the back of her neck and claimed her lips. The first taste of pure woman slammed him in the gut. For a split second, he forgot their differences and how she’d hurt him by keeping Owen from him.