“Just like most women these days, I want to do work I like and be a mom, too. I just never thought I’d be doing it alone. Alone, I have to be as good as two parents. I have to be willing to do things maybe some women wouldn’t.”
“Such as?”
“Such as managing Saddle Ridge, choosing new stock, buying equipment, schooling and boarding horses, as well as feeding, diapering and rocking my baby.”
“You can’t do it all. No woman can.”
“Never say ‘can’t’ with me, Brock. It just makes me more determined to try.” She crossed to the door. “I put a roast in the Crock-Pot this morning. We had potatoes left over from last night. After I steam a vegetable, supper will be ready.”
“And heaven help me if I ask if you need help.”
“If you’d like, I’ll let you carve the roast.”
He laughed and shook his head, then motioned to the stairs. “Lead the way.” He knew Kylie talked a good game. She was a determined lady. But he also knew she needed someone to support her. For now, he was the one who was going to do it.
One way or another.
When Trish Hammond stepped into the office of Clementine’s Friday evening, she was smiling. “Charlie said you wanted to talk to me. It’s my break, so I have a few minutes. He said his son knew you back in high school. Charlie didn’t tell me your name, though.”
“It’s Brock. Brock Warner.”
At that, Trish’s smile faded.
“I told him not to tell you my name. I wanted to make sure you’d talk to me.”
Her hands went to her hips, to the short black skirt that ended midthigh over the black fishnets. “I only have a short break. What do you want?”
“Do you know who I am?”
“Yeah. You’re Alex’s brother. He mentioned you now and then.”
If he was the curious type, he’d probe to find out exactly what Alex had said. But it didn’t matter. “I hear you called Alex’s wife.”
“So what?” Her face was all defiance.
“I’d like to know why.”
“What’s it to you? She knows why.”
“No, I’m not sure she does. She said you wanted to return Alex’s belt buckle, but I don’t think that’s the real reason you called her to come here, is it?”
Trish’s fingers fiddled with the shiny silver belt buckle at her waist. “Maybe it was, and maybe it wasn’t. I don’t see why you’re concerned.”
“You slept with a married man and you wanted to rub that fact into his wife’s face. Are you just naturally vindictive or did you have a good reason for wanting to do that?”
Trish turned to go and Brock knew he’d made a mistake. He’d let his temper get the best of him. “Wait.”
“Why should I, if you’re just going to insult me?”
“That’s not my intention. Kylie’s going to have Alex’s baby at the end of January. She was in an accident after her visit to you.”
“I heard. That wasn’t my fault.”
“No, it wasn’t. The truck broke down. Fortunately, she’s recovered physically from her injuries. But emotionally, there’s a lot going on because of her grief, because of her loss, because of you.”
“Does she know you’re here?”
“No. I’m not trying to create more stress for her. I’m trying to alleviate it. I think you wanted to meet Kylie and see what she was like. I think Alex probably told you about her, and maybe you were jealous. How am I doing?”
To his surprise, he saw tears well up in Trish Hammond’s eyes. She cleared her throat. “I thought he was going to leave her and marry me. I thought I’d be the mistress of Saddle Ridge. I thought I’d go to all those rodeos with him and watch him win, and I could give up waitressing forever.”
“Did Alex promise you all of that?”
“No, not in so many words. Finally, I knew why.”
Brock just waited. He imagined Trish hadn’t talked about this with many people, and it seemed whatever she had to say was aching to come out.
“He called me the night before he was killed.” The tears welled up again and she blinked fast. “He told me he wasn’t going to see me anymore. He told me when he came back here, we were finished.”
“Did he tell you why?”
“He said Kylie was pregnant. He couldn’t imagine being a father, but he was going to give it a damn good try. He said he was going to change his ways and be the kind of husband she deserved…if she stuck by him. Damn it, I wanted to be the wife he deserved. I wanted to be the one he came home to. I wasn’t interested in having kids, but I wanted Alex. And he knew it.”
“How long were you two involved?” Brock asked the question, although he’d had a pretty good idea because of the credit card statements he’d seen.
“About a year, maybe a little longer.”
Brock’s anger toward Alex was so immense he could hardly restrain it. His brother hadn’t valued Kylie or his marriage. Yet, on the other hand, he’d decided to make it all right. That’s all that would matter to Kylie now.
Trish looked down at the floor then back up at him. “Since July, I’ve tried to let it go. I’ve tried to let go of Alex. But the fact that he was going back to her just ate at me. I had to see her, meet her, find out why he couldn’t give her up.”
Brock asked, “Did you find out why?”
“She’s nothing special. He was only going back to her because of the baby.”
Brock wanted to shout his disagreement. Everything about Kylie was special.
“I gotta get back out there,” Trish murmured.
“I know you do. Thanks for answering my questions.”
She took another look at Brock, and then smiled. “Alex said you were a big time geologist and traveled all over the place. He looked up to you, you know. He said you had every reason to hate him, but you didn’t. You just didn’t come around anymore.”
Brock’s chest tightened. “He thought that was his fault?”
“He wasn’t sure. He thought maybe you just couldn’t stand to be in Wild Horse Junction any longer. Whatever it was, he was always glad when you called.”
Guilt stabbed Brock again. He should have called more. He should have come back here more. He should have done a lot of things.
Before Trish left the office, she looked as if she were going to say something else, but then she shook her head. “Never mind. I was going to tell you you could buy me a drink some night when you came around. But you’re not the type.”
“Type?”
“Yeah. You’re the one-woman type.”
He didn’t answer. Seconds later, she’d disappeared down the hall. The scent of Trish’s perfume lingered in the office. It was way too strong.
When he told Kylie what Trish had said, she’d be tied to Alex even more tightly.
But he had to tell her. It was the right thing to do.
Kylie carried Brock’s clean clothes from the laundry room beside the kitchen into his bedroom.
His bedroom.
It was ironic that it had once belonged to Jack. But only Brock’s presence was evident now. The king-size, four-poster bed took up most of the room. A blue, yellow and red patchwork quilt Kylie had made draped over the sides onto the blue dust ruffle. There were blinds at the windows with red valances. A pair of Brock’s jeans lay over a cane-seated chair, while his flannel shirt hung around the back. His work boots sat next to the dresser. That meant he’d changed into his good boots. After supper he’d said he had an errand to run. She hadn’t asked where. It really was none of her business, but she was curious now. This time of year, shops and stores were open later, just as they were during the tourist season in the summer. Maybe he was buying his mother something for Christmas. She had just finished her own mom’s beaded purse and would send it out on Monday.
Stopping at the bed, she separated his clothes into three piles—a jeans pile, a shirt pile and an underwear pile with both T-shirts and briefs. As she slid her hand over the more intimate clothing, her heart b
eat faster. She remembered his touch…his kiss…and why they’d broken apart.
She was so lost in the vivid images, she was startled when he said her name. Standing in the doorway to the bedroom, he was watching her.
Feeling flustered, knowing heat was flowing into her cheeks, she explained hurriedly, “I just brought your laundry in. I was separating it for you. Not that you need it separated, but I thought it might be easier—”
His strides were quiet, smooth, quick. Towering over her, he gave her a half smile. “I know you didn’t come in here to steal my best pair of spurs.”
Try as she might, she couldn’t get the image of him in briefs out of her head. A few hot days when she’d worked beside him on the ranch, she’d seen him shirtless. She knew there was a smattering of black hair on his chest. The tufts of black hair against his bronze-hued skin had been mesmerizing. Back then, the tummy-twirling sensations she’d experienced had made her realize she was becoming a woman. Now, they seemed something forbidden. Something she shouldn’t welcome. Something that could cause her more heartache.
Grabbing for any conversation she could think of that wouldn’t land them into a mess of trouble, she asked, “Was downtown busy tonight?”
“As busy as Wild Horse gets. Lots of folks were Christmas shopping.”
Curiosity got the better of her. “Is that what you were doing?”
“No.”
She just waited, hoping he’d tell her.
“I went to Clementine’s.”
That declaration took her by surprise. “Was happy hour still going on?” she asked lightly.
“I didn’t go there for happy hour. I went to see Trish Hammond.”
Shocked, she blurted out, “Why?”
“Because you deserve to know the truth.”
“And you think she’d tell you what that was?”
“I don’t think she would have told you. I had to poke and prod a little, but I learned what I wanted to know.”
Kylie started for the door. “I don’t want to know any details. I don’t want to know what she said about Alex. I don’t want to know any of it.”
Catching her, he held her fast. “Yes, I think you do. You might not want to know all of it, but I think you need to hear it.”
“Why are you doing this?” she asked almost in a whisper. “How can I put everything behind me if we keep uprooting it? Nothing she had to say—”
“Listen to me, Kylie. Before he was killed, Alex called Trish. He told her they were finished. He wanted to put his marriage with you back together. That’s why she was so vindictive. That’s why she wanted to try to humiliate you. Because she’d felt humiliated. She thought she’d lost, and she wanted you to hurt more than you were already hurting.”
There was pity in Brock’s eyes and she couldn’t bear that. She closed hers. Alex had really meant what he had written to her. There might be pity in Brock’s eyes, but he’d given her a gift—a gift more valuable than any she’d ever received. Her husband had loved her, had been committed to her in his way. Whether they would have succeeded at putting their marriage back together again, she’d never know. But it renewed her faith in Alex that he’d wanted to try. It took some of the sting of betrayal away. Some.
“Don’t disappear on me,” Brock demanded.
Opening her eyes, she looked straight into his. “I’m not. I’m thinking how grateful I am that you’ve done this for me. It means more than I can ever tell you.”
“Trish wasn’t the kind of woman Alex ever would have married. You’re the woman he wanted for his wife.”
“Did you learn anything else?”
“I thought you didn’t want to know details.”
“I’m not sure I do. But I can’t be a coward about it.”
“I asked her how long it had been going on. She told me about a year.”
“A whole year,” Kylie murmured.
“It was just sex to him, Kylie. It had to be, or he couldn’t have broken it off so easily.”
“We don’t know he did it easily. We don’t know that at all. He gave her one of his belt buckles. They were important to him.”
“They were trophies. But he had so many, he wouldn’t miss one. Trish was just another adrenaline rush. You know Alex lived for them.”
His fingers tightened on her shoulders. “I know what you’re thinking. Don’t. He kept coming back to you, Kylie. You grounded him. You were his home as much as this place.”
How she wanted to believe that. How she wanted to believe that she and Alex had had something genuine. Something real. At least at the beginning.
Standing on tiptoe, she kissed Brock’s cheek.
“What was that for?” His voice was husky, as if her gesture of affection had affected him.
“For going out of your way to protect Alex’s memory for me.”
Bringing his hand to her cheek, he ran his thumb down the side of her face. “I guess I’m still trying to protect him, as well as you.”
She wasn’t sure what might have happened, then, with emotion running high between them…with the bed less than a foot away. But the phone rang.
She jumped. Brock picked up the receiver on the nightstand. “Saddle Ridge.”
After listening for a few moments, he held it out to her. “It’s Lily Reynolds.”
Putting the receiver to her ear, she greeted the gallery owner, who was also becoming a friend. “Hi, Lily. What’s up?” Where Brock’s thumb had traced a line down her face, she could still feel the fire from his touch.
“I hope I’m not calling too late,” Lily said. “I just closed the shop.”
“No, it’s not too late.” She pictured Lily as she turned her attention to her, trying not to be distracted by Brock. Lily had Hopi blood in her background, and was exotically beautiful, with black hair and blue eyes. She’d returned to Wild Horse Junction a couple of years ago.
“I know with Christmas and all and you being pregnant your time is limited, but I sold the last purse of yours that I had in the case. The barrettes went yesterday to a customer who ordered from the Web site. So I’m calling to tell you that if you have any time at all, I’d love to have more of your creations.”
“Soon, no one will be Christmas shopping.”
“That doesn’t matter. My Web clients are picking up and I could put whatever you give me on there, too. Dylan’s photographs and prints have brought a lot more traffic to the store and to the Web site. So I’m selling more of everything. Don’t do more than you can handle, but when you can’t sleep at night, I’d like a few more beaded pieces.”
Kylie laughed. “I’ll get to work on something tonight or tomorrow. Do you want the same designs or different ones?”
“Whatever you can give me. Honestly, the beadwork you do is beautiful.”
“All right. I’ll see what I can do. I’ll give you a call when I have something finished.”
“Sounds good. Will you be coming into town for the First Night celebration?”
“I hope to. After all, I was on the committee that planned it. I don’t want to miss the mustang racing through town to bring in the New Year. I just wish I could ride him.”
“Next year,” Lily suggested.
“We’ll see. I’m taking one day at a time.”
“I’ll look forward to seeing you. Make sure you stop in and say hi before or after work some day.”
“I’ll do that. Thanks again, Lily.”
“No. Thank you. I’ll send you your check.”
After Kylie put the phone back on the nightstand, Brock guessed, “She wants more of your work.”
“Yes. Isn’t that great?”
“You can add it to the nest egg for your baby.”
“Yes, I can.”
“I hear you when you work at your table at night. The floor creaks when you move the chair. Some nights you don’t turn in until three o’clock.”
“The baby kicks most around midnight. It’s crazy. Or maybe I’m just more aware of it because I’m try
ing to go to sleep. But if I work for a while, he or she settles down.”
“You need your sleep.”
“Tell that to my ballerina or soccer player.”
“Which do you really want?”
“I have to admit, I’d love a little girl, so I could share girlie things with her. Not only that, I worry about having a boy, since he won’t have a role model.”
“I think he’d have role models. You’d probably make sure he’d form close ties with Dylan and Garrett.”
“I guess that’s true. You know, you could be an important influence in his life, too, if you wanted to be. If you came back here to visit. The way to erase bad memories is to make new ones. You could do that with this child.”
One look at Brock’s face told her just the thought stirred up turbulent emotions. He’d be a wonderful role model. He’d be an even better dad.
She could picture him as this baby’s father. Even more than she could ever picture Alex being a father. She suddenly realized she wished Brock were the father…this baby’s real dad.
Aware she was in Brock’s bedroom, aware her feelings for him were growing deeper, aware that she couldn’t carry regret and guilt and “what-ifs” and “if-onlys” for the rest of her life, she hoped Brock would give her an indication of what he was thinking.
But he didn’t. He simply nodded. “That’s something to consider. Now how about a cup of that sleepy-time tea. Maybe it will put the baby to sleep, too.”
“You’re going to drink tea?”
“I didn’t say that. I’ll brew a pot of decaf. Then neither of us will be wandering around the house tonight.”
Did Brock have insomnia, too? Or did he think about her in bed, the same way she thought about him in bed?
She wouldn’t ask that question because it was better for her right now if she didn’t know the answer. She had to stay focused on her baby and Saddle Ridge. Then maybe the rest of it would fall into place.
Chapter Eight
In the barn, Kylie felt peaceful. In the barn, she could escape the constant tugging toward Brock that kept her awake at night and restless during the day. In the barn, she could remember being a kid playing with kittens in the hay bales, riding bareback through the fields, letting whatever cares she had blow away like leaves in the wind. She couldn’t do much here this late in her pregnancy, but she loved the smells of old wood, clean hay and saddle leather that had seen years of use.
Expecting His Brother's Baby (Baby Bonds #3) Page 12
