She was cleaning tack after work on Monday when Dix came into the barn. He frowned at her. “You should be up at the house. It’s too cold and damp for you to be out here.”
“Don’t start, Dix. I can’t stay cooped up in the house until this baby’s born. We both need fresh air and a change of scene.”
“Brock said you’re not sleeping at night.”
“What do you two do, give each other daily reports on my health?”
“Now don’t go getting in a snit because we want to look after you.”
With a sigh, she set aside the jar of leather cleaner and the rag. “Did you come out here to lecture me, or is there something that needs my attention?”
She was still trying to work through Alex’s letter and the fact that Brock had taken it upon himself to confront Trish Hammond. Had he simply wanted to put her mind to rest? Or had he wanted to prove to himself that his brother was a scoundrel rather than just a complicated cowboy who hadn’t known what he really wanted in life? So much went on under the surface with Brock. So much, that maybe he, himself, wasn’t even aware of it.
“There isn’t anything going on that Brock and I can’t take care of,” Dix reassured her, as if that were reassuring. “But I thought you might want to know he’s back from town. I saw him carrying something inside that looked like it belonged in the nursery.”
When Brock had told her he was going into town to an electronics store to buy a GPS unit to plot coordinates on the ranch, she hadn’t thought much of it. She’d just told him they’d have a late supper. “I don’t need anything else for the nursery. What was he taking inside?”
“If he meant it to be a surprise, I don’t want to spoil it. Maybe you should go look.”
Screwing the lid onto the leather cleaner, she set the jar on the shelf. “I am finished here for now. Did you see how well Feather is socializing with the other horses?”
“She seems to be fitting right in. Brock’s doing a good job with her. He’s almost as good as you are reading those critters’ minds. Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if he would have stayed on and helped you and Alex make a go of this place. I bet everything would be different. He’s got a knack for managing, a good eye for efficiency, not just with horses, but with the machines and the land. But I guess he became a geologist because he didn’t want to stay in one place.”
Kylie wasn’t so sure of that. Brock had become a geologist because he was in tune with the land. Whether he’d admit it or not, Saddle Ridge meant something to him. Sure, there were bad memories here of times when Jack had pushed him aside and had used him as a hired hand, rather than treating him like a son. But Brock had walked these fence lines, not because he’d had to, but because he’d wanted to. He’d gentled and schooled horses because he’d had a talent for it, just as she had. He’d smelled the spring grass, gotten swallowed up in the huge sky and climbed the snow-capped Painted Peaks. Saddle Ridge and Wild Horse Junction were in his blood, whether he wanted to admit it or not. She couldn’t discuss any of that with Dix, though. It seemed a betrayal of Brock somehow.
“Life for all of us would be very different if Brock had stayed. But he left and he’s going to leave again.”
“Once your baby’s born, it might be harder for him to leave.”
Or easier, she thought. Whenever he looked at Alex’s child, he’d remember she was once his brother’s wife. Alex would always be between them.
“I’ll go to the house and take a peek at the nursery. But if you’re pulling my leg just to get me out of here…”
“I’d never tell you a fib,” Dix muttered with a smile.
“Mmm,” was her noncommittal reply. “Why don’t you come for supper with us tonight? I made shepherd’s pie. I’ve been waiting for Brock to come home to put it in the oven.”
“I don’t want to intrude.”
“I wouldn’t ask you to join us if I thought you’d be intruding. You’re family, Dix. Don’t you know that yet?”
After he studied her for a few moments, he nodded. “Okay. Sounds better than warmed up corned beef hash.”
A few minutes later, as Kylie let herself into the house, she wondered what Brock could have put in the nursery. The sound of water running in the downstairs bathroom told her he was probably washing up. Crossing to the refrigerator, she removed the casserole and slipped it into the oven. She took a whiff of the cinnamon bread she’d made that morning, loving the scent of cinnamon in the house, especially at Christmastime.
After Kylie climbed the stairs, she took the few steps to the nursery’s doorway. There she stopped. A huge lump formed in her throat. Over by the crib stood a wooden clothes horse with a yarn mane. On its back sat a butter-scotch-colored teddy bear. Walking over to the horse, Kylie picked up the bear. Its fur was as soft as a kitten’s fur. She hugged it to herself as tears formed in her eyes. What had made Brock do this? Had he simply passed it in the window and decided to buy it for her baby? Had he gone looking for something special? Christmas was only a week away. He could have saved it until then.
Whatever the reason he’d bought it, she had to thank him. Returning downstairs, she wasn’t thinking of anything except giving him a hug when she headed for his room. The door was partially open and she went straight inside.
When she saw Brock, she froze and stared. He was stark naked with not even a towel slung around him. He was turned toward the dresser, pulling out a drawer. She must have made a sound because he swivelled around and she got a full frontal view. She knew she should turn and leave. She knew she should at least close her eyes. But a deep, womanly curiosity kept her rooted to the spot. Kept her looking. Kept her admiring. Kept her marveling at the sheer male beauty of him.
Somehow, her eyes finally drifted up to his. The collision shook her. She liked looking at him and she could see in the depth of his gaze, he liked her looking at him. Primal knowledge, attraction and anticipation thrummed between them until she realized exactly what was happening. They were both getting aroused. The state of her body was hidden. His wasn’t.
Red-faced, she spun around and practically ran from his room.
“Kylie, wait.”
Wait? Wait to see what would happen next? She didn’t think so.
When she reached the living room, she stopped. What was she going to do? Run up to her bedroom and lock the door? That would do a lot of good.
Moments later, he was in the living room with her, clasping her arm. He was wearing jeans now, though they weren’t snapped. All that tan, male flesh drew her eyes. She wanted to run her fingers through his chest hair.
“It’s all right, Kylie. We’re living under the same roof. Things like that are bound to happen.”
Speechless with feelings that confused her and made her life even more chaotic, she just shook her head. “What’s happening, Brock?”
Denial stole the concerned expression from his face. “Nothing’s happening, Kylie.”
What he meant was nothing emotionally was happening for him. What he meant was he was feeling pure, sexual attraction. And how was that possible with her in the last stages of her pregnancy? Whether he would admit it or not, they were connected again. On many levels. The problem was most of that connection was due to Alex.
Composing herself, knowing her pride was all she had to protect her, she decided, “The next time I come to your room, I’ll definitely knock first.”
“That might be safer,” he agreed neutrally, releasing her arm.
She couldn’t simply act as if she hadn’t seen what she’d seen, as if a live current hadn’t zipped between them. The image of him naked was branded before her eyes, and it would be a long time until it passed. However, she could go on as he was, pretending nothing had happened. “I came in to thank you for the clothes horse and the bear. That was thoughtful.”
“Not a lot of thought behind it,” he said offhandedly. “I got it at that little furniture store next to the hardware store. Wes Guloff makes all the furniture himself. He’s got so
me wonderful pieces in there. I just thought it might come in handy. As the baby gets older, you can teach him how to hang up his clothes so they’re not all over the floor.”
“Or her,” she returned, wondering if he was thinking about a boy who could run Saddle Ridge one day. A girl could do it, too, and Kylie was going to prove it.
“Now don’t go all feminist on me. You know I’m a man who believes in equal opportunity for all.”
That brought a smile to her lips. “You got out of that one nicely, didn’t you?”
He seemed to relax a little more now that they were conversing about something that wasn’t so personal. Now that they weren’t simply reacting to each other.
“I’m going to finish getting dressed. These floors are cold,” he joked.
Even when she looked down at his bare feet, she got a tingle from that. She had to do something about these reactions to him that were becoming harder to hide. “Tonight after supper I’m going to work on a beaded piece for Lily, so I’ll be upstairs all night.”
His knowing eyes told her he knew exactly what she was doing. But he didn’t protest. “I have work-related calls to make and a prospectus to put together for investors, so I’ll be down here. I won’t bother you.”
Brock simply being down here would bother her. But once she started the beadwork, she’d concentrate on that and nothing else.
She hoped.
A light snow began falling on December twenty-third as Brock drove Dix’s pickup along the rutted path that was hardly a path any longer. He’d been using the GPS unit most of the day, attempting to forget about Kylie coming into his room several days ago. Every time their gazes met now, they had another lasting memory between them. Those memories were pushing them apart. Wasn’t that the best thing that could happen?
What’s happening between us, Brock? Kylie had asked, as if she’d really expected him to answer.
Long ago memories…imaginings of a man who should know better…the desires of a man who had been without sex for too long were what was happening. She’d have been hurt if he’d said that to her. Or maybe not. Kylie was tough. Tough on the outside, anyway. He doubted if she was any different on the inside. And that, damn it, was why he responded to her.
Although he was wearing his seat belt, Brock came off the seat as he ran over a rut and the truck jostled him. Straying away from the old vehicle path, he headed toward a gully, slowed, took the truck down the slope through the shallow water and up the other side. The grey sky was getting greyer by the minute and dusk would come early tonight. But he knew his way around this ranch as if it were the palm of his hand. He’d explored every inch of it as a kid. He knew exactly where he could see antelope run. He could predict whether the stream had gone dry or was still swelling, no matter what time of the year. He sensed where cattle had wandered to graze. A message in his soul had drawn him to the teepee rings over and over again. That’s where he was headed now.
Before Jack had let him drive the vehicles on the ranch, Brock had walked out here. Hiked out here. Ridden horseback out here. Gotten lost out here. But lost was a state of mind, and he’d soon learned to memorize every stand of trees, the location of each windmill, the crests of hills and the dips into the valleys. Most of all, these rings. When life had gotten tough, he’d come out here, think about his mother on the reservation, make his own plans to leave and never come back.
The snow melted on the hood of his pickup, but he knew that could change as night fell and the temperature dropped. Since the other day, Kylie had been giving him unspoken messages. Stay out. Go away. Let me be alone with thoughts of my husband and my baby so I can sort it all out. He wondered if she’d ever sort it out. Since he’d told her about Trish, he wondered if she thought kindly of Alex again. Since she’d read his letter, had she forgiven her husband for everything he’d put her through? Was a woman’s love so strong she could bear hurts and forgive them? Had Kylie’s love been that strong?
Maybe that was the difference between men and women. A wife’s unfaithfulness would stab so deep, Brock knew he could never trust her again. How could a marriage survive with a lack of trust? His hadn’t. That had been a different kind of trust issue. They’d been so different. Marta had wanted a child so badly. But when she couldn’t get pregnant, almost every look at him was one of resentment. He’d resented her, too, for basing marriage on the whim of fate bestowing a child…or not.
When he stepped on the brake, the truck lurched on the uneven ground. He got out, adjusted his hat and slammed the door. The teepee rings had looked much different from the plane with Garrett. He’d easily imagined the shelters rising up toward the sky, the hunting bands who had searched for food, the gatherings around the fires that had given hunters community. Now as he crouched down to touch a pile of rocks, they were slick under his fingers. As he followed the circle, he spotted another circle, and then another.
Life was made up of circles, he supposed. Some a man completed and some a man didn’t. He was uncomfortable with the fact that his life had circled back here to Saddle Ridge…to Kylie. He should leave now, before the situation got even more complicated. Yet how could he leave with her baby due? How could he leave with the ranch still needing capital? How could he leave when he knew Kylie and Dix could never handle on their own the amount of work that was going to come?
You want to see Alex’s baby, a whisper inside his head scolded.
No, he didn’t. He did not want to see Alex’s baby. He did not want to see a gift that fate had bestowed on his brother when he hadn’t deserved it. Brock shook his head. He shouldn’t judge. Maybe not fate but a Creator had decided this gift could turn Alex around.
Then why had he died?
Free will and all that. Religion had too many questions and not enough answers.
Looking up at the sky, letting the snow fall on his face, holding his arms wide, he felt the spirituality of the place—the life energy of a primitive people…people that hung onto old ways because new ones just didn’t suit. All of his life he’d been able to find answers out here. He’d been able to find peace in the sun, and the snow, and the clouds and a Creator who looked down on him gently, expecting nothing in return—except to accept the acknowledgment of the goodness in his heart.
His heart had brought him back here when Kylie needed him. But now, his heart was looking for the easy road when there was none.
Because Alex was an obstacle on any road…an obstacle that couldn’t be avoided.
“We’re giving her that puppy that Seth took in,” Amanda Daily confided to Kylie in a hushed voice as Molly went to the kitchen for napkins.
It was Christmas Eve morning, and Molly and her mom had stopped in for a visit. Kylie had made hot chocolate and opened a can of Christmas cookies.
Molly’s mother was a pretty, auburn-haired woman, a few years older than Kylie.
“She’ll love that a lot,” Kylie replied. “Molly has seemed…quiet lately. Is she that way at home?”
Kylie had wanted to open a dialogue about what was troubling Molly, or at least give her parents a heads-up that something was. With Molly in the kitchen all she could do was drop a hint.
A shadow seemed to pass over Amanda’s face. “Her father and I are trying to make a decision on what’s best for her future. We don’t agree and I think she feels that tension.”
Her future? Kylie wanted to ask questions. Were they thinking of sending her to a boarding school? Or were they talking about college this early? Molly came back into the living room then with the napkins, and she couldn’t pursue it. At least the Dailys were aware something was troubling their daughter. Kylie just hoped they could resolve it soon.
“I want you to open your present now.” Molly was all smiles and enthusiasm and Kylie loved to see her that way.
Kylie was about to unwrap the box on her lap when the front door opened and Brock came in.
When he saw them all, he said, “Just passing through. I need a printout from upstairs.”
&nbs
p; “Have some hot chocolate with us,” Molly invited him.
He looked as if he wanted to refuse, but then he nodded. “Okay. I can take a break for a few minutes.”
“I’ll make it for you just as soon as Kylie opens my Christmas present.”
“I can make it myself,” he said with a chuckle. But he didn’t move. He was watching Kylie with the present.
With his gaze on her, Kylie’s fingers weren’t quite steady as she untied the bow and then unwrapped the box. Lifting the lid, she pushed back the tissue paper and found a small framed needlework plaque that read Cowgirl Up and had the outline of a horse. “It’s terrific, Molly! I love it.”
“I did it myself. I mean, the cross-stitch. Mom helped with the framing. You can put it in the barn, or anywhere you want.”
“I’ll have to think about it, but it might go upstairs in my bedroom.”
Picking up the small box from the table beside her, Kylie handed it to Molly. “Your turn.”
After Molly tore off the ribbon and paper she found two beaded barrettes inside. “They’re gorgeous. Did you make these?”
“Sure did.” Kylie had always believed there was something important about giving handmade presents. They seemed to carry so much more love with them. The socks she’d started for Brock were finished now. And wrapped. She hoped he understood how much…love they carried with them.
Love. She was in love with Brock Warner and there was nothing she could do about that.
“Are you okay, Kylie?” Amanda asked. “You look a little pale.”
No, she wasn’t okay. She was in love with Alex’s brother, but there was a world of years and resentment between them. And he’d be leaving. He’d be going back to a life she knew nothing about.
She’d never expected he’d stay. But if he could exorcize his ghosts, couldn’t he be happy on Saddle Ridge?
Expecting His Brother's Baby (Baby Bonds #3) Page 13
