Kylie’s eyes were still filled with the haze of desire. “Wrong? That’s not the word I’d use. I know what wrong is, Brock, and that kiss wasn’t right or wrong. It just was.”
“You were Alex’s wife.”
“Yes, I was. And I’m carrying his child. It’s the child that bothers you most, isn’t it? Because Alex fathered it. Did you resent Alex so much that you’ll stay away from his child the same way you stayed away from him?”
By the way her question came out in a rush, he could tell it had been plaguing her. “I didn’t resent Alex. It would have been easier if I had. We were brothers in ways that mattered. But Jack didn’t want me here.”
“And what about after Jack died?”
“After Jack died, I had a life in Houston, work wherever it took me…and a wife.”
There seemed to be so many questions in Kylie’s eyes, yet she didn’t ask any of them. Instead, she returned to the coffee table and picked up a few more ornaments.
After a slight hesitation, she confided, “I had a crush on you when I was seventeen. But when you returned to Jack’s funeral with a wife, I knew you didn’t want me in your life any more than you wanted Saddle Ridge. I think the ranch and me go together in your mind. But if there’s an attraction between us, it has nothing to do with Alex. Or with Saddle Ridge. Or with Jack. It has to do with you and me.”
He was surprised she’d put her thoughts into words. Of course, he coupled Kylie with Alex! Of course, he coupled her with Saddle Ridge. There was no way in hell he could forget that Alex had claimed her and married her and impregnated her. In his mind, she still belonged to Alex and was off-limits. In his mind, she solidified every reason he’d left and every reason he hadn’t wanted to return. As a child, he’d had no choice but to accept his lot as the out-of-favor son. He’d gotten the leftovers that Jack had deigned to throw his way. That night Kylie had kissed him in the barn, he’d known she was too young. He’d known he had to find a life he could be proud of. He’d known he couldn’t stand in Alex’s way, or he’d lose the younger brother he loved. Then, he’d believed he’d made the right choices. Looking at Kylie now, he wasn’t so sure.
He needed cold air and a reprieve from being in the same room with her. “I’m going out to the barn for a while. Concentrate on putting ornaments on the bottom portion of the tree. I’ll hang the others for you when I come back in.”
The defiant look in her eyes told him she’d do whatever she damned well pleased. Then as quickly as it flared, it dissolved. “I’ll be careful, Brock.”
As he left the house, he knew she didn’t just mean that she’d be careful hanging ornaments on the tree.
Chapter Five
On Wednesday evening Kylie knew she might have made a mistake planning this get-together, but she couldn’t handle another evening alone with Brock. Confused and struggling before he arrived, his presence and her turmoil over their kiss blew everything even more out of proportion. She needed her friends, and thank goodness they’d agreed to come—since she agreed to make it a potluck supper, and all she would do was put a roast in the oven.
“It’s great,” Brock replied to Shaye’s question about how he liked the corn pudding. Kylie thought his enthusiasm sounded forced. He’d found himself in the middle of a party, and he didn’t like it.
Tiffany, the unwed mother Gwen had taken in, was rocking three-month-old Amy in one arm while she ate dinner. “Kylie said you live in Texas, but you’ve been all over the world. Did you really ride a camel? And trade your clothes for supplies?”
When Brock glanced at Kylie, she just arched her eyebrows and smiled. Brock had told her a few stories to make conversation during some of their time together, and apparently she’d passed them on.
“The camel was temporary until we could get hold of a Land Rover. And the clothes? I didn’t need them, but I did need the supplies. Even in Wild Horse we’re used to having a discount store. The closest thing to it in some locales is a weekend flea market. As much bartering goes on as buying.”
“Dylan’s been all over the world, too,” Tiffany informed Brock. “He’s even been to Antarctica.”
Shaye’s husband had been helping Timmy spoon a dollop of mashed potatoes into his mouth, rather than flinging it onto the floor. Kylie knew his nephew—ten months old now—would rather handle it than eat it. “Antarctica, Tasmania, Africa…” Dylan shrugged. “That used to be my life. But I can’t say I miss it.” He looked over at Shaye sitting on the other side of Timmy.
After she gave a small nod, he went on. “We have an announcement to make.”
Before anyone could respond, he held up his hand. “No, we’re not pregnant. We’d like a little bit of time to extend our honeymoon before we add to our family. But we have set the wheels in motion to adopt Timmy.”
“We want him to have the same name as ours,” Shaye admitted. “We don’t ever want him to doubt that he’s our son in every sense of the word.”
“How long will it take?” Kylie asked, as she watched Brock’s face.
“About nine months,” Shaye replied.
Timmy grabbed a fistful of Dylan’s shirt and Dylan laughed. “Another one for the wash,” he said easily.
Shaye gave Kylie a conspiratorial wink. “You’d better stock up on soap powder.”
“How are the photos going of the wild mustangs?” Garrett asked Dylan.
“I’ve gotten wonderful shots. I swear, they seem to pose for me. Kylie, Shaye told me you love going to the Bighorns to see them. If you want to ride along with me sometime—”
“I’ll take her,” Brock interjected. “I haven’t been up there in years and I’d love to see them again for myself.”
If sitting in a room with Brock was tension-filled, Kylie couldn’t imagine the cab of a truck for an hour-long drive.
When Garrett took Amy for a while so Tiffany could devote her attention to her food, Kylie saw he wasn’t awkward with the baby at all. When she looked over at Gwen, Gwen’s gaze was on her fiancé. There was love and tenderness and hope there. When Garrett glanced back at Gwen, Kylie could just tell that she was his world. They were going to be happy. Truly happy. Just as Shaye and Dylan were. At one time, she’d thought she and Alex could be happy like that, too. But that dream hadn’t been based on reality.
Kylie wasn’t sure how it happened, but while everyone enjoyed after-dinner coffee except for her, she found herself seated in the armchair. Tiffany perched on one arm, holding Amy. Gwen and Shaye were curled on the floor beside her, while the three men sat on the sofa. Dylan was in the middle with Timmy, Brock and Garrett on the two ends. Conversations split, as they often did when men and women gathered.
With a brush of her long brown hair over her shoulder, Tiffany asked Kylie, “So, do you have a list of baby names yet?”
“No list. I’m hoping that when I look at my son or daughter the perfect name will pop into my head.”
“That’s one way of doing it,” Gwen said with a laugh. “Or…you could just open the phone book and throw a dart.”
“I hadn’t thought of that,” Kylie quipped. “If I get stuck maybe that’s what I’ll do.”
While Shaye and Gwen talked about a new line of baby food and Tiffany went to settle Amy in the car seat she’d brought inside, Kylie heard the men discussing real estate. Timmy, however, was growing restless with the lack of activity. He wanted to be on the floor, crawling. When Dylan wouldn’t let him do that, he squiggled around, pushed his little legs and grabbed for Brock’s arm.
Brock seemed to freeze for a moment, then visibly relaxed.
“He’s looking for a new diversion. He’s tired of me,” Dylan explained wryly.
Catching Timmy under the arms, Brock admitted, “I’ve never held a baby.”
“There’s always a first time. He’s squirmy, so hold on tight.”
At first Brock seemed awkward as he held up Timmy and let the little boy’s feet rest on his legs. But as Timmy waved his arms and grinned his spare-toothed smile, Br
ock smiled back. “Hi, there. You look as if you’re ready to have some fun.”
Shaye was paying attention to what was going on on the sofa now, too. “That means putting everything he finds into his mouth, except for food, and that goes on the floor.”
Brock chuckled. “It’s a big world out there. He has to explore it any way he knows how.”
Pushing his little legs against Brock’s knees, Timmy bounced up and down. It became a game and the little boy giggled, babbled and drooled.
Shaye rose to her feet. “I don’t mean to break up the party, but I’ve got to go to work tomorrow morning.”
Gwen rose, too. “Same here.”
As Shaye stood and took Timmy from Brock and Tiffany dressed Amy in her baby bunting, Kylie’s guests moved away from her. Except for Gwen, who leaned down close. “Are you really feeling better?”
“I’m doing great. The soreness is almost gone from the shoulder. Brock won’t let me lift a finger if he can help it.”
“There’s tension between the two of you. What gives?”
Kylie had called Gwen the night she had dug out the mustang necklace Brock had given her. She’d ended up telling her about her meeting with Trish Hammond, instead of her turmoil over having Brock in the house. Since their kiss, tension didn’t even begin to describe the vibrations between them.
“Brock and I,” she murmured, “have a little bit of a history.”
Gwen’s eyebrow arched.
“I can’t discuss it now.”
“You don’t have to tell me anything. I remember when you were seventeen and moved out here. You spent every moment you could with him.”
“I had a crush.”
“A crush that’s come back to haunt you?”
“No. No crush. Not anymore.”
“But something else,” Gwen mused, glancing at Brock, who was watching Dylan and Timmy as if no one else in the room existed. Kylie wished she could read his mind.
“Okay. We’ll talk later.” She clasped Kylie’s shoulder. “Don’t let what that Hammond woman did influence what happens between you and him.”
Kylie knew exactly what Gwen meant. If there was an attraction between her and Brock, it would be easy to salve her ego. When he’d kissed her, she’d never felt so much a woman. Over the past year, she’d doubted Alex’s desire for her. She’d doubted how desirable she was at all. Apparently Alex hadn’t wanted a woman who’d smelled like horses and hay. He’d wanted a woman like Trish, who smelled like expensive perfume and fine leather.
“I know what you mean,” she assured her friend. “Nothing’s going to happen. Not with me like this,” she said, referring to her pregnancy. “Besides that, Brock will be returning to his life in Texas.”
As Garrett brought Gwen her coat, Kylie pushed herself up from the chair. Settling his fiancée’s suede jacket on her shoulders, his grey eyes were concerned when he addressed Kylie. “If you need anything just give a yell. We’re not that far away. Do you and Brock have cell phones for when he’s out mending fence or tending to cattle?”
“Brock has his cell phone. I can always call him from here.”
Garrett frowned. “You really need to have one, too. If you’re in the barn and you get a cramp or something… I know you probably don’t want another monthly fee, but there are temporary cell phones now, the kind that you pay as you go. Just think about it. Okay?”
Like Brock and Dylan, Garrett was the protective type. “Thanks, Garrett. I’ll think about it.”
After Shaye gave Kylie a goodbye hug and Kylie kissed Timmy’s little cheek, Shaye commented, “I can’t believe it’s less than three weeks until Christmas.”
Brock’s gaze met Kylie’s and she wondered what they’d be doing on Christmas day. She’d already begun knitting him a pair of socks. After she turned in at night, she worked on them for a while. She had to give him something. Hand-knit socks were a small token for all the work he’d done already.
Those socks have nothing to do with repayment for chores that you needed to have done, a little voice scolded her. You just want to give him something you made for him.
Being honest with herself, she knew that was true.
After more handshakes and “I’ll call yous,” Kylie and Brock were alone again.
“You’ve got good friends,” Brock remarked, as he picked up coffee cups and carried them to the kitchen.
Kylie brought along a dish that had held cookies Shaye had made. It was empty. “I’m glad Shaye and Gwen found such good men.”
“They do seem happy.”
“You sound surprised,” she commented.
“I haven’t seen many marriages that work. Ten years from now, we’ll look at Dylan and Shaye, and Garrett and Gwen and then pass judgment on the institution of marriage.”
“You can’t go into it thinking it won’t work,” she offered. “That’s setting yourself up for failure.”
“No one stands in a church or in front of a justice of the peace expecting to fail.”
“I don’t know about that. Maybe it’s a subconscious thing. Or maybe we’re simply naive. Vows seem easy until they require hard work to make them last.” As soon as she said it, she knew she shouldn’t have. She didn’t want Brock asking her questions.
Instead of asking her questions, though, he seemed to take her words personally. “Sometimes hard work isn’t enough.”
If she poked into his marriage, he’d want to poke into hers. She wasn’t prepared for that. Their kiss had made the subject a more dangerous minefield. Their kiss had changed the way they looked at each other. Their kiss had urged her to keep her insecurities more deeply hidden.
Moving toward the dishwasher, she opened it and began loading it. “Do you know if Dix cut pine boughs for me today? Tomorrow I’d like to work on wreaths. One for Gwen and Shaye and one for us.”
“For the front door?” he asked.
She straightened and nodded.
“You always did like tradition,” he said in a gruff voice.
“Tradition can get us through some difficult times. After Mom left for Colorado, Pop and I had to come up with our own traditions so we weren’t so sad over the ones Mom had liked. We couldn’t do the same things because that would have hurt too much. In the years I went to Colorado to spend Christmas with Mom, she and Aunt Marian had come up with their own traditions. I think they’re just our way of having something to hold onto, something to share that’s familiar.”
“I suppose you and Alex had traditions,” he suggested offhandedly.
After a moment, she replied, “I’m not sure if you had asked Alex what they were if he would have known.”
“He couldn’t have told me you always put a wreath on the door?”
“I think he took it for granted, so he really didn’t see it, just like Christmas cookies and cranberry bread and tinsel on the tree.”
Brock glanced at the fir. “We didn’t put tinsel on the tree.”
She avoided his gaze. “I know. I wanted it to be different this year.”
“Whether it’s different or not, you’re going to miss him. You don’t have to hold it inside when you’re around me. I understand.”
What he didn’t understand was that her marriage had been falling apart and she hadn’t been able to save it. But she had too much pride to tell him that. Failure wasn’t something she accepted easily. The fact that she’d failed at the most important thing in her life was most upsetting of all.
The silence that fell between them was like a curtain separating them. Finally he broke the stillness. “New traditions remind us that old ones still mean a lot. You can change what you do, but you can’t forget what you used to do. At least most people can’t.”
“I’m going to try.” This discussion was over for tonight. It might be over forever.
Because they were getting too close to truths Kylie didn’t want Brock to know.
When Kylie entered the ranch house Saturday afternoon around three, she didn’t expect Brock to be th
ere. But there he was, sitting in the kitchen, a lockbox in front of him on the table. She didn’t recognize it.
Before she could find out what he was doing, he asked, “How was your lunch with Shaye and Gwen?”
Although he’d asked the question, she wasn’t sure he really wanted to know. “It was great. The Silver Dollar wasn’t busy, so we had time and quiet to talk.”
Gwen had picked her up and then dropped her off so Kylie didn’t have to drive. But she didn’t like being chauffeured. She didn’t like not being completely independent. After her doctor’s appointment on Monday, she’d go back to work and be her own person again.
Brock’s gaze fell to the grey metal box on the table. “I found this in the bunkhouse in one of the closets, way in back on the floor.”
“What is it?”
Brock wasn’t quick to answer. When he did, his expression was more sober than she’d ever seen it. “I believe it was Alex’s secret stash.”
Although the lid was open, she couldn’t see into the box from where she was standing. “Money?”
“No.” Standing, Brock pulled out a chair for her. “I think you’d better sit down.”
“You’re scaring me.” She felt cold all over.
“I don’t mean to scare you. Come on, take off your coat.”
He helped her with her parka. The brush of his hand on her shoulder warded off some of the sudden chill. As she lowered herself into the chair, he hung the coat on a peg on the wall.
“No one’s stayed in the bunkhouse for two years,” she murmured.
“Alex knew that. That’s why he put this there. No chance of anybody finding it.” Taking out a sheaf of credit card bills, Brock placed them on the table in front of her. “Did you know Alex had a Visa card in his own name?”
She and Alex had had joint credit cards—a Discover and a MasterCard. The MasterCard they’d used strictly for ranch purposes.
“No, I didn’t know that.” Then something occurred to her. “How could he? No statements ever came to the house.”
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