“You have the same last name as Alex and Kylie. Are you related?”
Molly always said what she was thinking, and now Kylie wondered how Brock was going to answer.
“I was Alex’s half brother.”
Molly studied him thoughtfully. “That means you had one parent the same.”
“Yes. Our father.”
“Do you like horses, too? Do you ride?” she asked, eyeing him with even more interest.
“I do,” he answered seriously, though amusement danced in his eyes.
“With Mr. Warner here, do you think I can take a ride?” she asked Kylie hopefully.
Often, when Dix was around and Molly visited, he watched over her for a few circuits around the corral.
“Mr. Warner might have other things to do.” Kylie didn’t know what his plans were for today.
“I can spare some time. Which horse do you usually ride?”
“I ride Caramel.”
“Caramel, it is. I’ll saddle her up.”
“She’s a good rider,” Kylie told him. “She handles herself well on the trail, too.”
“We could take a ride over to the first cattle guard,” Brock suggested. “That way I can exercise Rambo, too.”
Rambo was Alex’s horse, a bay gelding that had lots of spirit.
Kylie was a bit surprised at Brock’s offer to take Molly out of the corral. She’d only mentioned Molly’s ability to trail ride so that Brock knew she could handle herself well. Did he like kids? It would be interesting to see how he related to Molly.
A short while later Kylie watched Brock and Molly lope off. She wandered around the barn a bit, hating her inability to jump right in and muck out stalls, or do whatever needed to be done. Yet she knew her main job right now was taking care of herself so her baby would be healthy.
Finally, sitting on a hay bale and petting one of the cats that roamed the barn, she thought about Brock riding Alex’s horse. He sat on a horse as if he belonged on one. She remembered the roundup he’d helped with the summer after her graduation. She’d gone along, too. The group had consisted of Jack, Alex, Brock and two of the full-time hands Saddle Ridge employed then. Gwen had also gone along to keep Kylie company, though she’d admitted she didn’t know how much help she’d be. But every horse and rider counted in a roundup.
Brock had stayed away from her. He’d been polite, he’d smiled at her, he’d made conversation when he’d had to. After the roundup was over, he’d congratulated her on a job well done, told her she rode as good as any man and could handle cows and horses just as well. She remembered how wonderful that praise had felt, how much she wanted them to be closer friends the way they had been before graduation. But something had changed that weekend, and she’d blamed it on the kiss.
Kylie was in the tack room folding blankets when Brock and Molly returned. “How was the ride?” Kylie asked.
“Great!” Molly absolutely beamed. “Brock said I’ll be as good as you if I keep riding.”
“She knows how to sit on a horse,” he agreed with a smile.
“We even saw antelope,” Molly added with delight.
Antelope were common, speeding across the rangeland, but since Molly lived in town she didn’t see them that often.
“Well, I’m glad.”
“I know you said you usually help groom, Molly, but why don’t you and Kylie go up to the house and set out lunch. I’ll take care of Caramel, too.”
Molly looked to Kylie for approval, and she nodded, swinging her uninjured arm around Molly’s shoulders. “Come on. We’ll have everything ready by the time Brock finishes and comes up to the house.”
Molly was quiet as they walked up the path. That was unusual for her. She usually chattered a mile a minute.
As they went inside, she said, “Mr. Warner’s nice. He told me he’s here to help you out.”
“Yes, he is. Being pregnant, there are some things I just can’t do right now, and Dix has an awful lot to handle.”
Both Molly and Kylie washed up in the bathroom, then went to the kitchen to make lunch preparations. Molly was quiet again and Kylie wondered what was on her mind. After Kylie took the beef barbecue from the refrigerator and set it in the microwave to warm up, she glanced at Molly, who was already setting the table.
“You’re quiet today,” she said simply. “Is something wrong?”
To her dismay, the ten-year-old’s eyes filled with tears.
Immediately she went to her. “What’s wrong, honey?”
“It’s just…Mr. Warner was so nice to me.”
“Aren’t people always nice to you?”
“It’s not that. I mean, he treated me like I was his kid or something.”
Brock’s protective streak made him the type of man who would rescue anyone in trouble. From the way he’d interacted with Molly, she’d also seen he had a knack with kids.
“I don’t think Mr. Warner being nice to you is the problem here. What happened?” She didn’t want to jump to conclusions that weren’t warranted. Molly could simply be upset because a teacher scolded her. Even at her age, she was a perfectionist and she liked adult approval.
“It’s just—I don’t think my dad loves me.” The words came out in a rush, as if they might not be true if she said them fast.
Compassion for Molly filled Kylie’s heart. Taking her by the hand, she pulled her over to the table, dragged out two chairs directly across from each other and motioned for her to sit. “Why would you think that?”
“Because he won’t…he doesn’t…look at me. Do you know what I mean? It’s like he doesn’t want me around. I heard Mom and Dad arguing one night. I don’t know what about because I couldn’t hear them clearly. But I think they were arguing about me.”
Kylie didn’t know the Dailys well, but what she’d seen of them so far when they’d dropped off Molly or picked her up or when Kylie had seen the three of them together in town, it had seemed to Kylie that her parents had built their world around Molly. Not that anyone truly knew what went on in a family. Didn’t she know that?
“Tell me something, Molly. How long has this been going on?”
“A few weeks, maybe longer.”
“I think I told you how my pop loved horses as much as I did.”
Molly nodded.
“Well, he pretty much raised me. My mom went to live somewhere else when I was a little older than you, so it was just me and Pop.”
“Did you see your mom?”
“Now and then. But she lived far away. I called her a lot and she called me. I went for visits. She lived in a city, and I couldn’t imagine doing that.”
“Do you think my parents are going to break up?” Molly sounded horrified.
“Oh, no. I’m not telling you this because I think that. I just meant things were awkward with me and my dad for a while, with my mom not around. And I think part of the problem was my growing up. He didn’t know how to relate to me, what to say to me or what to do with me sometimes. I remember the day I told him I needed to buy a bra. He got all red faced and stammered all over the place and didn’t talk to me for two days.”
“You think Dad’s different because I’m growing up?”
“I don’t know. Have you talked to him or your mom about this?”
Molly shook her head.
“You should. You don’t want to sit and worry over something that might not have anything to do with you.”
“You really think it might not have anything to do with me?”
Although that’s what she’d said, Kylie knew kids had very good sensors. They could pick up vibrations better than adults sometimes. But she wasn’t sure Molly’s sensors were working properly. “You won’t know until you ask.”
“I’ll think about it,” Molly murmured.
The door opened and Brock came in. Seeing Molly and Kylie sitting and talking in the kitchen, his gaze found Kylie’s. “I can find something else to do outside if lunch isn’t ready yet.”
Kylie shook her head
almost imperceptibly, and Brock got the signal. “Lunch is almost ready. The barbecue is warmed up, and after I heat the baked beans and get out the carrot sticks, we’re good to go.”
Giving Brock a shy smile, Molly hopped up from her chair, went to the refrigerator and pulled out the beans Kylie had made in the slow cooker yesterday.
Brock came to stand beside Kylie and turned to her. When she began to rise, she found his hand under her elbow, helping her up. “How are you feeling? You spent a long time in the barn this morning.”
She knew she couldn’t just tell him she was fine. He’d already forbidden that. Gazing into his dark eyes, she felt immobilized, as if she could stay there forever. She thought she saw actual concern, more than a sense of duty. Yet she couldn’t be sure. She’d never been sure of anything about Brock, except that her feelings for him went deep.
“I got a little chilled, but I’m warming up now.”
She saw his expression change as his gaze roamed her face, as it settled on her lips. If she had been chilled from the barn, she certainly was heating up now. Was she reading desire in his eyes? How could she be? She was eight months pregnant, for goodness sakes. He certainly couldn’t look at her and think she was attractive. Could he?
“You’re getting better at being honest with me.” His deep voice was low.
“I’ve always been honest with you.” As soon as she said it, a pang of guilt nudged her. She had always been honest with him when he asked her direct questions. But she was keeping things about Alex from him…things that could hurt him.
Then again, maybe he wouldn’t care at all that Alex had been unfaithful…that his brother wasn’t the man that either of them thought he was.
As Brock dragged an eight-foot fir from the back of the pickup onto the porch, he muttered a low oath. There were a thousand other ways he should be spending this Sunday. Before snow seriously fell, he had winterizing to do and more painting. But last night Kylie had asked him if he’d cut down a tree for Christmas. She’d also asked him to take her to church this morning.
It had been years since Brock had been inside a church. Although his mother had attended faithfully, his father hadn’t been a churchgoing man. Brock had always had too many questions that no one could answer. He found a power bigger than he was in the mountains, in the desert, on a river. Yet standing beside Kylie this morning, hearing her voice raised in song, he’d felt moved by that, too.
He was losing it! That’s all there was to it. He knew from experience Saddle Ridge could do that to a man. Especially now, when he was filled with regrets and guilt and grief and a longing he’d forgotten about while he’d lived in Texas.
The door opened and Kylie stood there, a wide smile on her face. It was one of those genuine smiles he’d only seen as she’d gentled Feather and spent time with Molly.
“It’s beautiful!”
“How can you tell without setting it upright?” he teased.
“It’s big and it’s full. That’s all that matters.”
Suddenly he was glad he’d taken time to choose a tree that had been round, filled-in and well-shaped.
After Brock pulled the tree inside, he saw the boxes of decorations and the pile of Christmas tree lights. “You didn’t—”
She cut him off. “No, I didn’t. Dix brought everything down from the attic for me. I told him he could help decorate but he didn’t seem interested.”
“I guess not.” Brock wasn’t into the idea of decorating a tree himself, but he wasn’t going to let Kylie do anything she shouldn’t, so that meant he had to oversee.
Realizing a wonderful smell filled the house, he took a couple more sniffs. “What’s cooking?”
“Gingerbread.”
He’d convinced himself that nothing about Saddle Ridge had changed. The bad memories still had the power to poke him in the gut. However, something had changed. Kylie was mistress of the house now, and that made a difference. There was a sense of home about the place that had never been there when he was growing up. Not even after Jack remarried. Carol Warner, Alex’s mother, had relied on the housekeeper to cook, had met with her garden society to talk about growing roses, had filled the living room with brocade furniture that Jack had gotten rid of after his wife died. Carol had always been removed from Brock, as if she hadn’t known what to do with him. Only Alex had given him a connection.
He still couldn’t believe Alex no longer walked the earth.
Was Kylie having trouble believing that, too? Was that the sadness he saw in her eyes? The quietness that was new to her?
Sitting on the sofa, she pulled open flaps of a box that Dix had obviously set there for her.
“Do you use the same decorations every year?” he asked.
“No. There were so many boxes of them, we rotated. Or rather, I did. The boxes are dated.” She pointed to the labeling in black marker. “Mostly Dix pulled the older boxes for me, from when you and Alex were kids. I hope that’s all right.”
“It doesn’t matter to me.” He imagined she’d had Dix do that so she wouldn’t have to confront memories from Christmases with Alex.
As Brock wrestled the tree into the stand, Kylie sorted. “Isn’t this pretty!” she exclaimed, holding up an ornament, a silver bell with tiny strings of silver charms dangling from it like a wind chime.
“My mother made that one,” Brock said gruffly, amazed at how much wallop an ornament could carry.
“Is it okay if we use it? I think there’s more than one.”
“I told you, it doesn’t matter to me what you use,” he snapped, and then was immediately sorry he had. Glancing at Kylie, he expected to see a hurt expression on her face. Instead, he saw compassion, and that was harder to take.
As he concentrated on straightening the tree, he heard her soft footfalls as she came toward him. She was wearing moccasins today. He didn’t hear her as much as the floor creaking.
“I can use the newer ornaments I collected over the years.”
Although he didn’t know if he was ready to, he faced her. “I never expected coming back here to be the jolt that it’s been. I’d put Saddle Ridge and Jack behind me.”
“If your mom made these, I expect she tried to make Christmas the best she could for you while she lived here. It’s amazing you even remembered this.”
“I was four, and that was the Christmas before my mother and Jack split up.”
He was silent as she studied him. “You don’t have to help me decorate the tree. In fact, you don’t even have to stay for Christmas. I’ve recovered now.”
“You’ve recovered from the accident, but you’re eight months pregnant. I’m not going to leave, Kylie.”
She blew out a breath, and he almost smiled. He imagined she was getting as frustrated with him as he was with her. What a pair!
No, not a pair.
Damn if she didn’t look beautiful today. She was still wearing the maternity dress she’d put on for church. It was a red-and-green fine plaid with a high waist that dropped into a calf-length skirt. She’d pulled some of her hair behind her bangs into a beaded barrette. The overwhelming urge to pull her into his arms was so strong, he almost had to physically fight it. In his head he listed all the reasons why he should keep up a wall between them. She’d been Alex’s wife. She was carrying Alex’s child. She wanted to stay on Saddle Ridge and raise her child, and he wanted to sell the ranch.
“How long has it been since you’ve seen your mother?” she asked.
“A few months.”
“Why don’t you ask her to come here for Christmas?”
“Not likely. She wouldn’t be comfortable here.”
“You know, Jack has been dead a long time.”
“Some memories never fade,” he insisted. “Why would she want to be reminded of a time in her life when she was unhappy?”
“Maybe she needs to come back here as you did—to exorcize ghosts.”
“It’s not a good idea, Kylie.”
“It was just a suggestion
,” she said softly, then turned away from him, to go back to sorting ornaments.
After Brock finished setting up the tree in front of the picture window with strings of twinkle lights wound into its boughs, Kylie began decorating it. She’d picked out the ornaments she wanted to use and spread them on the coffee table and the sofa.
He smiled, thinking how organized she was, even in this. To his surprise, she’d apparently also opened one of the later boxes, and he saw many Native American ornaments—a Kokopelli, a white buffalo, a tiny kachina, a storyteller doll. With a miniature mustang in her hand dangling from a red ribbon, he watched as she reached high on the tree. On tiptoes, she suddenly lost her balance.
As though he could instinctually feel what was happening to her, he was by her side, wrapping his arm around her to steady her. The strains of Nakai’s Christmas music played in the background as the scent of gingerbread rode on the air. A curious anticipation in Kylie’s eyes called to him, and with the vivid recall of a shared kiss in a shadowy barn, he bent his head and set his lips on hers. If he had meant it to be a quick tasting, if he had meant to kiss and quit, if he’d believed he could stay removed and simply satisfy a surface craving, he’d been dead wrong. Kylie was sweetness, passion and all-essential woman. The swell of hunger and need that overtook him demanded a physical reckoning. Thought fled on the wings of the adrenaline coursing through him. He wasn’t sure if he breached her lips or if she parted them for him. The vital energy that passed from him to her, and her to him, caught them in an erotic vise.
Kissing Kylie was filled with high sensation—like riding a mustang bareback through the wind. The exhilaration was heady and intoxicating. His tongue brushing against hers, hers brushing back in response, aroused an appetite he’d never satisfied before. His arm tightened to bring her closer.
Feeling her belly against him, he froze.
The child was between them. Alex’s child. Her child. A child that would be blond and blue-eyed and everything Jack Warner had ever wanted in an heir.
Breaking away, Brock kept the fiery words in his head to himself, stunned by the hunger he’d felt for her. He stepped back so their bodies weren’t touching. “Forget that happened. We both know it was wrong.”
Expecting His Brother's Baby (Baby Bonds #3) Page 7
