“Yes. For now. But after what happened to your truck, I’ll be going to look for something to replace it.”
“Dix said it could be repaired.”
“It had a broken ball joint and it’s fifteen years old. With over one hundred and fifty thousand miles, it’s time to let go of it, Kylie.”
Holding on to the first vehicle she’d ever owned hadn’t been strictly sentimentality. She simply couldn’t afford to replace it. “I’ll check the paper for used trucks.”
“Don’t worry about that. I’ll take care of it. The ranch could use a new one. What happened to the crew-cab Alex won?”
So Brock had known about that, Kylie realized. Two years ago, a prize at one of the rodeo competitions had been a brand-spanking-new silver truck but it had been a gas guzzler. “I sold it.”
“Why didn’t you keep it and get rid of yours?”
Because she couldn’t have gotten anything for hers. “I did what I thought was best.”
The message she sent was clear—the truck she drove was none of his business.
Brock’s jaw tightened and deep furrows dented his forehead.
Turning away from him, she stared out the side window. If he thought he could come in here and just ride rough-shod over her, he was sadly mistaken.
“Why didn’t you call me and tell me Saddle Ridge was going to hell?” Brock demanded of Dix an hour later.
The pre-Thanksgiving wind held an icy bite as Brock turned from the foreman to scrutinize the outside of the barn, with its peeling paint, the few horses loose in the corral and the acres of land that used to be peppered with at least five hundred head of Angus, but now only boasted about fifty.
Brock shook his head with disbelief.
“Maybe instead of waiting for a call from me, you should have come home to see what was going on.”
Brock stared out over the sections of Warner land. “There was no place for me here. There never was, and you know that.”
“What I know is that you can be as stubborn as your father was.”
His father.
Jack Warner hadn’t been a real parent to him, though he’d fathered him and given him his name. He’d married Brock’s mother to save face. The smart, handsome, rich Jack Warner couldn’t handle the reputation of being a scoundrel, of sleeping with a woman and then turning his back on her when she got pregnant…even if she were Apache. He’d married her and Brock had been born here, but had never felt as if Jack Warner had cared one bit for him. And he’d always known why. His skin was the wrong color. His hair was coal-black, like his mother’s, not blond like his father’s. The bottom line was Jack had never loved Brock’s mother. He hadn’t really wanted her as a wife. He’d never wanted Brock.
Brock glanced over at the house where he’d grown up but never really belonged. The roof was missing a few shingles and the porch steps looked as if they should be replaced. “When did this start happening?”
“After your daddy passed.”
That brought Brock’s gaze to Dix’s again. “Alex let it go like this?”
“You think this happened in the four months since he died? Look again, son. This neglect has taken years. Kylie’s worked harder than any man I know. The two of us have tried to keep up, but we couldn’t. With Alex gone so much—”
“Bull riding?”
“Bull riding. Chasing the next belt buckle or purse. Always expecting to win the Grand Championship and never doin’ it. I do understand why you didn’t come back here since your daddy died. His will was a slap in the face, leaving the place to Alex, and only giving you half of it if he sold it. But why didn’t you come back here after Alex died?”
“I was in a jungle. I never got the message about Alex until after the funeral. I called Kylie then. Didn’t she tell you?”
“No, she didn’t. What did she tell you?”
“She mentioned she was pregnant, but she said everything was fine.”
“And just what else was she supposed to say with you in another country and her here?”
“She could have told me the truth.”
“In Kylie’s mind, she probably was fine,” Dix admitted, blowing out a huge breath. “She has plans to turn this place around after the baby’s born.”
“What kind of plans?”
“Teaching more classes. Boarding more horses. Training more two-year-olds.”
“She’s dreaming.”
“Yes, she is. About her baby’s future. She didn’t tell you what was going on because she didn’t want you to know, is my guess. You proved you didn’t care about Saddle Ridge by staying away. I wouldn’t have called you, except the doc says she’s supposed to take it easy for the next couple of weeks. I knew I couldn’t handle this myself. I hate admitting it, but it’s true.” Dix’s red beard was laced with some gray now. The lines on his weathered face were deep and counted every one of his sixty-two years.
“No hands at all? Not even part-time?”
“We couldn’t afford them! I shouldn’t even be talking to you about this. Kylie should. But she’s still shaken up and I don’t want her worrying so much. It’s not good for her or the baby.”
Brock had been back home in Texas when Dix had called him yesterday to tell him about Kylie’s accident. He didn’t know what to make of any of this.
After his dad had divorced his mom, she’d gone back to live with her family on a reservation in Arizona. He’d been four years old, and he could still remember the tears in her eyes when she’d claimed Saddle Ridge was where his future lay. As he’d grown older, he’d understood what she’d meant. If he stayed at the ranch, he could eventually go to college and become anything he wanted to be. If he went to Arizona and lived on the reservation with her, he wouldn’t be happy. He wouldn’t get the same kind of education. He wouldn’t grow up to be everything a man could be.
He’d visited his mother, mostly in the summers, but his life had been empty without her. Jack Warner had never been warm to Brock. He’d hired a housekeeper, and Brock had had all his needs met. But after Jack remarried and Alex was born, with his blond hair and his blue eyes just like his mom and dad, Brock often thought about leaving and going to live with his mother in Arizona. Yet as each year passed and his mother encouraged him to stay, he’d bonded with his half brother, found satisfaction in school work and tending to the horses, and he’d always felt a kinship with the land.
“With the holidays comin’,” Dix continued, “Kylie’s driving herself harder. She’s on a committee for the First Night celebration in town. She has presents to make, as well as things to ready for the baby.”
“The last thing she needs to be worried about is Christmas presents, decorations and a New Year’s Eve party.”
“Don’t go tellin’ her that, or you’ll get your head handed to you on a platter. You might anyway,” he muttered. “She likes to do everything on her own.”
“Didn’t you call me so I’d get back here and talk some sense into her?”
“Not exactly. I called you because she needs help. I need help. You’ve got a vested interest in this place—”
“The terms of the will apply to Kylie the same as they did to Alex. I’ve only got a vested interest if she sells it.” Brock zipped up his windbreaker. He’d have to get warmer clothes if he was going to stay here through the winter.
Through the winter. When had he made that decision?
“You are going to help, aren’t you?” Dix asked now, looking worried, maybe wondering if the boy he’d known had become a man who was different from that boy.
“Yes, I’ll help. I have paperwork to finish on a project and a few loose ends to tie up, but nothing else is pending right now.”
“It won’t be a hardship to take some time off?”
Brock knew Dix meant financially. He made more money than he knew what to do with. Maybe because he worked all the time, more often than not in locations where most men wouldn’t go. Maybe because saving had always been more important than immediate gratifica
tion. He’d also invested in a few wells over the years that had hit big. A few months on Saddle Ridge wouldn’t be a problem. A few months until Kylie’s baby was born…until Alex’s baby was born.
“No hardship.”
“Kylie’s had a lot on her shoulders, son. Remember that,” Dix warned him.
He’d remember that. Unfortunately, staying at Saddle Ridge he’d remember a lot more. He’d have to face the fact those memories still might have power over him.
While he was here this time, he’d shake loose of their power for good.
An hour later Brock stepped over the threshold once more into the two-story ranch house. Immediately he spotted Kylie on the sofa, stretched out, asleep. She looked like a pregnant princess. But he knew she’d never been coddled like a princess. He knew she’d always been a hard worker, intent on living each day to its fullest.
Now what? His brother’s wife was smack-dab in the middle of a ranch that needed manpower, capital and something much more intangible to invigorate it. Why hadn’t Alex done something about the condition of the place? Why hadn’t he asked for help if he’d needed it? Because of pride? Whether he and Alex had wanted to admit it or not, Jack Warner had fostered competition between them. There was nothing to compete over. As a child, Brock had known he’d never have his father’s affection.
This place brought back memories Brock didn’t want to revisit, and he focused on the physical surroundings. Some of the furniture was newer than the rest. Dix had informed him that new furniture had been Alex’s wedding present to Kylie.
Some wedding present, Brock thought. It was striped teal-and-wine with huge, rolled arms and Brock suspected Kylie had chosen it rather than Alex having picked it out as a surprise. Automatically, Brock thought about the strand of Tahitian pearls he’d given Marta before their wedding. She’d loved them. She’d said she loved him. But she couldn’t have walked away so easily if she had. He couldn’t have gotten over her so quickly if he had loved her the way a husband should love a wife.
Love. Lust. Convenience. Need. Physical satisfaction. Who knew how much any of that played into a relationship? Who really knew how to figure out what was love and what was something else?
Watching Kylie like this, he was transported back to a night in the barn when she’d been seventeen and he’d been twenty-two, home for her graduation…and Alex’s. Proud of her, he’d given her a present. She’d kissed him. For a few moments he’d forgotten she was underage and he was a hell of a lot more experienced. But after those few moments, he’d ended it, backed away and done what was best for both of them. Later that weekend, Alex had informed him he was going to marry Kylie someday.
Brock had returned to his Ph.D. work, focused on life away from Saddle Ridge and married Marta shortly after he’d met her. Too soon, too fast, too different.
As if Kylie could feel his gaze on her, she opened her blue eyes, then pushed herself into a sitting position. Her hair fell over her shoulders as she did, and Brock remembered tugging her ponytail to tease her. He remembered how the night she’d kissed him, he’d threaded his fingers into the silky strands.
“I thought you might be hungry,” he said gruffly. “How do you feel? And don’t tell me fine.”
“My shoulder’s hurting,” she admitted, adjusting the sling.
As she began to rise, he moved toward the sofa. “What do you need?”
Her eyes were troubled when they met his. “An ice pack.”
“The doc gave you something for pain, didn’t he?”
“I won’t put medication in my body if I don’t have to…because of the baby.”
“Stay put,” he ordered. “I’ll get the ice.”
Returning to her with the pack wrapped in a towel, he asked, “Do you want to take the sling off?”
“I guess I have to.”
Before he reconsidered what he was doing, he sat next to her and helped her remove the sling. As she lifted her hair and he slipped the sling over her head, his palm brushed the side of her cheek. His pulse raced, and he decided it was an adrenaline shot because he didn’t want to hurt her. However, when the sling lay in her lap and he pressed the ice pack to her shoulder, the adrenaline didn’t stop and his heart pounded hard against his chest.
Her cornflower-blue eyes shimmered a bit before she closed them.
“Kylie?”
“I’m fine,” she murmured, not opening her eyes.
“Those are two words you’re not going to use around me. Remember?” Ever since he’d known her, she’d never let anyone know she wasn’t fine.
“When did you become such a bully?” she grumbled.
“When I moved to Texas, I found life on my own and getting my own way was a heck of a lot more fun than trying to please anyone here.”
Her eyes opened then and a bit of the shimmer remained. “You always get your own way in Texas?”
He chuckled. “Most of the time.” Then when he considered his life there, he became serious. “There are people in Texas who respect me.” His friends and colleagues didn’t care that he had Apache blood…and didn’t look at him as if he were an outsider.
“There are people here who respect you.”
“I needed to be away from Saddle Ridge to find my life.”
“Have you found it?”
“Yes,” he answered tersely, then changed the subject. “Are you hungry?”
“No. But I have to eat for the baby.”
Although he’d been trying to ignore her rounded tummy, now his gaze dropped to it. “Do you know if it’s a boy or a girl?”
“I want to be surprised.”
“What did Alex want?” he asked, curious.
“I’m sure he wanted a boy. Don’t all men?”
He could tell she was trying too hard to give him a smile. What was going on behind those eyes? “Maybe. Maybe not.”
Their gazes met again and he felt too much. This time he broke eye contact and glanced around the room. Suddenly he realized what was missing. “Where’s your TV?”
“I don’t have time to watch TV.”
“That’s not what I asked you. At Christmas last year, Alex said he bought himself a big-screen plasma TV so he could watch his tapes and improve his rodeo technique.”
Taking the ice pack and moving it to a different part of her shoulder, she asked, “Does it matter?”
“It might. What happened to it?”
“I needed the money from it to pay bills.”
Brock didn’t like the picture that was coming into clearer focus. “I want to look at the books.”
Again her expression was troubled. “I can’t prevent you from doing that.”
“But you’d like to. Why?”
Her cheeks became rosy with color. “On your own admission, you couldn’t wait to leave here. You rarely came back after you went to school. You haven’t come back since your dad died. So why do you want to get involved now?”
The problem was, he couldn’t give her just one reason. The problem was, he wasn’t certain why he was here or what he expected from coming home. It wasn’t his place now, though—it was hers. Unless she decided to sell it. “I came back because Dix admitted he couldn’t handle you and the ranch.”
“I’m going to be—” She stopped.
“It’ll be at least two weeks—maybe longer—until you’re really back on your feet. That’s what the doctor said. By then you’ll be dealing with the last two months of your pregnancy. How much do you think you’ll be able to help Dix? Face reality, Kylie.”
Without any warning she let the ice pack drop to the sofa and stood. “I’ve faced more reality than you can ever imagine. So don’t preach to me, Brock.” She headed out of the living room to a hall at the back of the house.
“Where are you going?” he demanded.
“To the bathroom. Don’t think you’re going to follow me there.”
Brock raked his hand through his hair. Making Kylie’s supper would be the easy part. Sitting together and pretending
there weren’t issues and problems to be resolved between them would be the difficult part. With her pregnancy and all, she really should be staying on the first floor. After Jack had had a heart attack a few years before he died, he’d renovated the downstairs, closing the back porch into a bedroom and modernizing and expanding the bath so it included a shower. Kylie should really be spending the latter part of her pregnancy down here. He could help her move her things. But right now wasn’t the time to suggest it. Maybe after he’d cooked them a meal, maybe after they’d talked superficially about something other than Saddle Ridge, she’d relax around him and he’d relax around her.
A little devil in his ear told him he was dreaming if he thought that was going to happen.
The bottom line here was he had to tread carefully. He had to remind himself she was still grieving over Alex, and the loss would be with her for a long time. If he tried to take over, he might trample everything she held dear. Then she’d hate him.
He couldn’t abide the thought of Kylie Armstrong Warner hating him. That realization made him decidedly uneasy.
Leaning back in his kitchen chair, Brock swiped at his mouth with his napkin and tossed it onto the table. His plate was clean. Frustration with Kylie was growing minute by minute. Frustration with himself for caring how she was reacting to him wasn’t much better. The fact that his gut twisted every time she smiled had him totally unsettled. He was damned uncomfortable.
“When are you going to stop pretending with me?” he asked, hoping to clear the air. For the past fifteen minutes she’d pushed food around on her plate, not eating much of anything. He suspected she was hurting but she wouldn’t admit it.
“We’ve known each other for years,” he went on. “I won’t be insulted if you don’t like the way I cooked the steak.”
She studied him for a moment. “We spent some time together years ago on your short visits home. I haven’t laid eyes on you for five years. I’m not sure we do know each other.”
Okay, he’d asked for that. Maybe he should have put things a different way. “Years ago, you said what you were thinking. You were as easy to read as the proverbial open book. Now you’re acting as if you want me to go away and never come back when it’s obvious you need help here. I’m trying to make sense of what’s going on. Alex never mentioned this place was headed downstream. Why not?”
Expecting His Brother's Baby (Baby Bonds #3) Page 2
