His words were precious to her and she savored each one. “I don’t know about a glow,” she said with a smile. “But I feel as if I’m…made for motherhood.”
There was heat in his eyes now, heat that she was feeling, too. Behind that heat there was hunger…and need. She recognized it because she knew it. She’d never felt it exactly like this before. It confused her now. Worried her. Upset her. Still, she was curious about it…curious about the vibrations that had always rippled between her and Brock, ever since that year she’d come to live at Saddle Ridge. Even before that on her part. Back then she’d known it was a crush. She’d known he’d never look at her because he was so much older. So much more experienced. When he’d married, she’d realized her crush had been unrequited, one-sided, and she’d better grow up and face reality. She had, and she’d married Alex.
“Why did you divorce?” she asked in an almost whisper.
His expression became guarded. “It was complicated.”
“Did you want the divorce?”
“I told you it was a mutual decision.”
What would Brock say if she told him she’d planned to leave Alex? What would he say if he knew his brother had been unfaithful?
Or were all men just like that? Maybe Brock was like that, too. Something inside her told her he couldn’t be. Yet she had to know. There had to be a reason why his marriage hadn’t worked out.
“Did she think while you were traveling you were…seeing other women?”
“No. Fidelity wasn’t an issue. Not for either of us.”
Rising to his feet, he ended the conversation. When he picked up their dishes, she knew he wouldn’t answer any more of her questions. Not about his marriage anyway.
Before he could leave the living room, she said, “I had a nice day today. Thanks for cooking. You did a great job.”
“I had expert supervision.” Then he grew very serious. “I know you think I don’t want to be here, Kylie. In a way, I don’t. But on the other hand, it was time for me to come back and face a few ghosts.”
Face them? Wrestle with them? Win out over them? She had a feeling the longer Brock was here, those ghosts might become less wispy and more real. “How long are you going to stay?”
“Until after your baby’s born.”
“I won’t sell Saddle Ridge, Brock. No matter how long you stay, you won’t be able to convince me to do it.”
“Even if selling is best for you in the long run?”
“Selling is not the best for me or my child.”
He considered her pensively. “You could sell off a few sections.”
She went quiet, thinking about the money that could bring in.
He took her silence as a rejection of his idea. “You’re a stubborn woman.”
“Not stubborn, determined. And absolutely certain of the life I want for my baby.”
“Life on a ranch?”
“Life on a ranch. On Saddle Ridge.”
She had to convince Brock that nothing would make her leave here. She had to convince him she could handle her life on her own.
It wouldn’t take much convincing. Once he faced his ghosts, he’d want to wash his hands of her and Saddle Ridge.
Then he’d be gone.
Whenever his eyes filled with heat, whenever his touch made her heart race, she’d remember that. Brock’s life was in Houston. Hers was here.
Heat could never bridge the bitterness, resentment and distance he felt toward Saddle Ridge and Jack Warner that would always be between them.
Kylie was restless, and the cause was simple—she knew Brock was downstairs. Although his presence gave her a sense of safety she hadn’t experienced in more years than she could remember, it caused turmoil, too.
She’d remembered to count every one of her blessings today. Thinking back over her life, she knew she was lucky. Her parents had loved her, each in their own way. Her pop had fostered in her her love for horses and the land they grazed on. Although Kylie’s mother had left when she was eleven, Kylie had understood her reasons for leaving and had never doubted that her mother loved her. Lynette Armstrong had just gotten sick and tired of a life that could be hard twenty-four hours a day, animals that needed constant tending and a town that didn’t have shopping malls. Her mother had met her dad when she’d come to Wyoming on a vacation. They’d fallen in love and she’d stayed. But she’d never felt she belonged, never really wanted to belong—not to the life Gus Armstrong was trying to build.
Kylie had often felt guilty she hadn’t left with her mother. But of her two parents, she’d felt her dad had needed her more. Not only that, she needed the Painted Peaks to fill her soul. She needed the animals to enrich her life. She’d never felt sorry for herself as a kid with only one parent. Maybe that was because Shaye and Gwen had also been her family. She was so thankful for them, too.
When she considered her years with Alex, she felt foolish for believing they could have built a life together. He’d always been a charmer and she’d known that. But she’d believed him when he’d told her she was the only woman he wanted to come home to every night. She’d trusted that his wedding vows meant as much to him as hers meant to her. She’d expected to be Alex’s partner in marriage, yet she’d found herself working on it all alone. Still…
Her hand pressed to her belly, and she was so very grateful for Alex’s child.
Alex’s child.
Whenever she looked at Brock and felt things she shouldn’t feel, all she had to do was think about her baby. It was hard enough for one man to accept another’s offspring. In Brock’s and Alex’s case, it would be impossible. Brock’s resentment of Jack and Alex and Saddle Ridge had to be immense. Whenever he looked at her, he probably thought about his half brother, the younger son, the one their father had loved.
How could she have such mixed feelings about all of it? How could she be grieving for Alex, but when Brock walked into the room she felt…touched in some way? Touched by an excitement, an electricity, a bond that had begun when she was seventeen and had never ended.
Had she loved Alex? Yes, she had. But she had to admit, Brock had always affected her…had always made her heart skip faster.
Her baby kicked and she felt the joy of being pregnant, the trepidation of oncoming parenthood, the certainty that she was going to love being a mother.
“I know who your daddy really was now,” she told her baby. “I know you and I are going to beat this world and make it better for both of us. We can do it on our own. I know we can.”
Staring down at her jewelry chest, she thought about everything she still needed for the baby. Thanks to the baby shower Gwen and Shaye had given her, she was in pretty good shape. If she sold another quilt, that should cover the first few months of baby expenses. She wondered if Gwen knew any midwives. A home birth would be less expensive than going to the hospital, and from what she’d read, possibly better for the baby, too. It was time she looked into it.
She ran her fingers over the top of the carved chest. What if Brock stayed until after the baby was born? They each had their privacy, her being on the second floor, him being on the first. But she could hear him moving around. She could hear the water running in the kitchen. She could hear the shower in his bathroom. She could hear the floor-boards creak from his heavy bootfalls. Having Brock in the house made her feel safe, yet kept her on edge. That was a contradiction, and she knew it.
Her gaze dropped to the jewelry box once more. It was one of those wooden chests that came from a souvenir shop. Her pop had gotten it for her when she was thirteen. He’d left her alone on the ranch for a weekend while he’d entered a calf-roping event at a rodeo in Montana. She’d been old enough to handle the livestock with Dix, and Gwen had stayed with her for the weekend. When her pop had returned, he’d given her the jewelry chest.
Lifting the lid, she glanced at the pieces of jewelry her mother had sent her for birthdays and Christmas. She didn’t wear rings and bracelets much because of working in the barn. And
earrings? Her long hair covered them.
The chest had a top layer and a bottom layer. Taking hold of the ribbon on the edges, she pulled up the top tray and set it aside. There in the bottom at the back corner, she found what she was searching for. She’d worn it constantly until the day of Jack Warner’s funeral when Brock had brought his wife to the ranch.
Taking hold of the sparkling gold chain, she lifted it. A wild mustang charm dangled from it. Brock had given it to her the night she’d graduated from high school…the night she’d kissed him.
It glittered under the lamp light and brought back memories of the two of them working in the corral with the horses, of Brock tugging her ponytail, of riding the fence line with him to check cattle, of sitting across from him at the dinner table, aware of him in a way she hadn’t been aware of Alex.
She’d felt the same awareness today as they’d eaten turkey and stuffing, as they’d sat on the sofa finishing the apple pie.
Her heart hurt. Her throat tightened. And she wasn’t sure if she was missing Alex, still feeling stunned by his betrayal, or experiencing nostalgia over a time spent with Brock that was so different from their time together now.
She needed to put it all in perspective.
After clasping Brock’s present around her neck, Kylie picked up the cordless phone. Gwen was more likely to be free than Shaye.
She speed dialed Gwen’s number. To her relief her friend answered.
“Am I interrupting anything?” she asked quickly.
Gwen laughed. “Interrupting? No. Amy’s teething, so Tiffany, Garrett and I are taking turns promenading her around the living room. It’s Garrett’s turn right now. What can I do for you?”
“The day of my accident I met Alex’s mistress.”
After a surprised silence, Gwen said, “Tell me what happened.”
Chapter Four
By the first weekend in December, the exercises Kylie was doing for her injured shoulder were paying off and she felt much better. The sling was long gone, and as she groomed Feather after breakfast on Saturday, she was pleased the mustang was holding still for her. Not for long periods of time, but long enough that Kylie could run a brush through her mane. She was in the stall with her, alternately feeding her a treat, then running the brush through her flaxen hair.
“Pretty soon you’ll let me braid this, won’t you?” she asked the mustang.
“Wouldn’t it be better if you tied her in the walkway to groom her?” Brock’s deep voice asked.
Without looking at him, she explained, “She doesn’t like to be tied like that. It makes her jittery.”
“You’re making me jittery being in the stall with her.”
“She won’t hurt me, Brock.”
“Maybe not intentionally.”
“We only do this a few minutes at a time.” She offered Feather an oatmeal cookie and the horse took it. Then Kylie opened the door that led out to the corral. Feather snickered, swished her tail and made a beeline out, eager to run and play.
“You’re spoiling her.”
“I’m giving her affection and bonding with her. That’s not spoiling.”
“What about the homemade treats?”
“It’s more economical than buying them.”
Brock laughed and shook his head. “I give up.”
“Good. Then we don’t have to argue.”
“Not about that. But I have to wonder why you took on this mustang and added another horse’s care to your expenses.”
“I needed Feather, Brock. That’s all I can say. I didn’t know I was pregnant when I made arrangements to adopt her.”
She exited the stall, closed it and fastened it, then changed the subject. “I went into the tack room this morning for the first time since before the accident. Did you straighten it up?”
“Some.”
“And you cleaned the saddles?”
“They needed it.”
“Don’t think I haven’t noticed everything you’ve done—the repaired porch steps, the coat of paint on the weathered side of the barn. Dix said the riding mower is fixed and—”
“Are you keeping a list?”
“No. But you should be. How am I ever going to repay you?”
She did look at him then, and she couldn’t decipher the message in his brown-black eyes. There was turbulence there, mixed with anger or something else she couldn’t define.
“No repayment will be necessary.” His words were terse, his stance rigid and defensive. “I shouldn’t have stayed away for so long. I should have come back here to check on Alex…to see how he was handling everything. I never imagined Saddle Ridge would come second to his bull riding. I saw the list of his entry fees and the expenses. Year by year, he entered more competitions.”
She felt the need to defend her husband. “He thought he could win money we could pour back into Saddle Ridge.”
“He did now and then. I noticed that. But not enough. He wanted the easy fix.”
“Bull riding isn’t easy.”
“Now I know bull-riding was his passion…or maybe addiction. He would have done it whether he won money or not, and you know it.”
Yes, she did know it. Bull riding meant more than their marriage. More than her. More than their child. And maybe it wasn’t just the bull-riding. It was the lifestyle. Who knew how many women—
As she felt tears prick in her eyes, she turned those thoughts away.
“Kylie?”
“It’s hormones,” she said, turning away from Brock.
“The hell it is,” he muttered, gently clasping her shoulder and nudging her around.
They were standing much too close. Whether it was logical or not, she thought she could feel the heat of his hand through her jacket and her sweatshirt. He looked so rugged in flannel. His jeans were worn and fit him snugly. Her gaze jerked up to his, and this time she couldn’t glance away.
“It’s okay to cry,” he assured her.
“Crying doesn’t help. It doesn’t fix anything.”
“It releases everything pent up inside of you. You lost your husband a few months ago. Just that, let alone being pregnant, would be enough to handle.”
Kylie knew he thought she was grieving over Alex. And she was. But she was grieving over more than his death. She was grieving over lost dreams. She was grieving over the fact that Alex wasn’t the man that she’d thought he was when she’d married him. She was also feeling bitterness toward Trish Hammond, and sometimes she almost hated Alex for the feelings she was having now. So the compassion in Brock’s eyes just made her feel guilty because she didn’t feel like the loving, grieving wife. Yet she didn’t want to tell Brock the truth. She didn’t want his pity. She didn’t want to feel as if she’d failed as a wife.
How had life gotten so complicated?
“Tell me what you’re thinking,” he prompted.
“I’m not thinking, I’m just feeling…too many things. I can’t just spill them out to you, Brock. In some ways I feel as if I’ve known you all my life. In others, I feel like we’re strangers.”
He withdrew his hand from her shoulder and then gently he stroked his thumb down her cheek. “We’re not strangers.”
“If we’re not strangers, then why don’t I know anything about your life?”
“What do you want to know?”
“What’s your life like in Houston? How did you feel after your divorce? Have you been dating? What’s your five-year plan?”
In the silence, Kylie heard her horse, Caramel, neigh. A bird’s wings fluttered high in the barn while cattle lowed in the distance.
“I suppose you don’t want one word answers to your questions?”
“With one-word answers, we’d still be strangers.”
“Kylie—”
The sounds of a vehicle scattering gravel as it came closer interrupted their conversation. Kylie knew Brock wasn’t going to answer her questions now. Maybe not ever. If he did, they’d close some of the distance between them, and she had a
feeling he wanted distance there. Maybe for similar reasons that she did.
“Molly’s coming to visit again,” Kylie explained. Brock had been absent when Molly and her mom visited for a short while the day after Thanksgiving. “She called last night and asked if she could. I invited her to stay for lunch.”
“I’ll cut out and find something to do in here.”
“No,” she said quickly, then wondered why she had. “I mean, you don’t have to. I’m sure Molly would love meeting you and hearing about some of the places you’ve been. She’s bright, quick and intends to see a lot more of the world than I ever have.”
“You’ve got a long life ahead of you, Kylie. Your world doesn’t have to begin and end here.” His eyes were intense with the knowledge and wisdom he’d gained over the years.
“I’m going to be busy for the next eighteen years or so,” she teased.
“You’ve got to show your child there’s a bigger world. You’ve got to give him or her the tools to make a life anywhere, not just here.”
“I will. But I want my child to know he or she always has a place to belong, always has a place to call home, always has a place that’s safe. I want Saddle Ridge to be sustenance and hope and a future.”
“Maybe you expect too much. Running cattle now is a lot different than it was a few years ago. The same with breeding horses.”
“Are you telling me I can’t turn Saddle Ridge around?”
“I’m telling you that maybe you expect too much—of yourself and of everyone else.”
Had she expected too much of Alex? Of their marriage? Had she put expectations on him that he couldn’t meet, so he’d run away from them? That was a shocking realization to consider.
The side door to the barn opened and Molly ran in, her blond pigtails flying behind her. “Hey, Kylie. I just have to tell Mom you’re in here.” She ran back to the door and gave a shout.
Seconds later, Molly was beside Kylie, studying Brock curiously.
Before Molly started asking a spate of questions, Kylie introduced them. “Brock, this is my friend, Molly Daily. Molly, this is Brock Warner.”
Expecting His Brother's Baby (Baby Bonds #3) Page 6
