Expecting His Brother's Baby (Baby Bonds #3)

by Karen Rose Smith

  “Alex is gone,” she said softly.

  “No. No, he’s not, Kylie. That’s the crux of it. Tell me something. Do you feel Jack in this house?”

  “Not anymore.”

  “Well, I do. I’m sleeping in his bedroom, for God’s sake.”

  “When you were a kid, it wasn’t a bedroom,” she offered, hoping to make him see he was dwelling on something he shouldn’t dwell on.

  “No, it wasn’t. But I still came home after he had his heart attack. Not often, but now and then. I remember one visit when he was getting feebler. I went in to spend some time with him, to try and have a conversation with him. He asked me about my work. I told him I liked the new horse Alex had bought. And that was the end of it. There was no meeting of minds. There was no attempt at reconciliation. He could have cared less if I left and didn’t come back. I didn’t come back again, not until his funeral. I can remember every heartbeat of silence in that room. Every awkward moment. Every word I was thinking but didn’t say.”

  She slipped her hand into his, not caring if she should or shouldn’t. He closed his fingers around hers.

  Close to him now, she could see the lines around his eyes. Were they from squinting into the sun? Or from worrying too much that he wasn’t good enough to be Jack’s son? Jack had been prejudiced against Brock because he was Apache. His mother had been good enough to sleep with, but not good enough to make a life with. But because of his heritage, not in spite of it, Brock was a man of integrity. She loved that most about him. Yet he, too, had a blind spot. He might have resented and hated Jack Warner at times, but he’d loved Alex and this ranch. Alex had had true affection for him, too, but that had gotten muddled in the way Jack had treated them both.

  At this moment, she didn’t care about Jack or Alex, or memories that Brock couldn’t shift away. She cared about the two of them and what they could have. Dare she even think about it? Dare she hope that someday Brock could put all the bad memories aside?

  Suddenly he said, “Damn it, Kylie. You’re just too beautiful today. Don’t look at me like that.”

  The fact that he thought she was beautiful when she was this pregnant said a lot. When his arm went around her, she leaned closer to him. Her heart coaxed her to tip up her chin…to invite him to kiss her. She knew he was a strong-willed man with plenty of self-control. Maybe too much. She also knew she was complicating her life even more than it was.

  Nevertheless, at this moment all she knew was that she wanted to give in to her feelings for Brock. Could he do the same?

  When his lips pressed to hers, it was the dawn of Christmas again and she was unwrapping something beautiful. His desire swept her into the throes of an elemental need that she never imagined a pregnant woman could have. She slid her hand into his hair, caressed his neck and breathed him in. He smelled like the outdoors…and Brock. While his tongue coaxed hers into a mating dance, his hand cupped her breast. Though still small, she was fuller than she’d ever been. Exquisite sensations shot through her, and when his thumb rimmed her nipple, she moaned into his kiss, trying to tell him exactly how he was making her feel.

  But her acknowledgment of the pleasure he was giving her reminded them both how far they were going…what could happen next if they didn’t stop.

  Brock broke away, breathing hard.

  She was having trouble getting her breathing under control, too.

  Instead of watching the distance he always put between them fill his eyes again, she rested her forehead on his shoulder. “Don’t say anything.”

  Sparks popped from the logs on the grate. A chunk of snow slid from the roof, melting in the afternoon sun. Brock’s heart beat steady and sure under her ear.

  She was aroused. She wanted more of him. Didn’t he want more, too?

  “How can you just stop like that? How can you just turn off what happens between us?” Her question was almost an accusation.

  “You think it’s easy, Kylie? If you drop your hand a little lower, you’ll find out exactly where I was headed.”

  Her hand was resting near his belt buckle. She almost did what he suggested, just to see his reaction. “Are you trying to shock me?”

  “No, I’m being honest with you. I’m a man, like any other man. I want satisfaction. But I know the price of it.”

  “You mean the heartache when things don’t work out.”

  “Not only heartache, but the loss of friendship. The loss of a connection that had been good and then turned into something else. Intimacy does that. It changes everything.” After a silent few moments, he asked, “Did you ever sleep with anyone but Alex?”

  “No.”

  “So you’ve had no practice at recovering from an affair,” he pointed out.

  “An affair? You think that’s what I want?”

  Leaning back farther away from her, he studied her. “I’m not sure you know what you want. You have a lot of reasons to turn to me.”

  “You think I kissed you because Alex slept with another woman and I want to know I’m still kissable?”

  “That’s one reason.”

  “You have a list of others?” She leaned away from him now, too, hurt that he didn’t understand what she was feeling.

  “You were drowning, Kylie, and I was your life raft. You needed another hand. You needed someone with capital to invest. You needed—”

  “Stop. Stop right there. I don’t recall asking you to be a life raft. I don’t remember calling you at all. Do you think I wouldn’t have come to the decision to sell some of the land on my own?”

  “Maybe. Maybe not. I think you would have run yourself into the ground first.”

  “No. You’re wrong. Because I have a child to think of now. Ever since you came back, you’ve been acting as if I’m some kind of forbidden fruit.”

  “Everything about our chemistry together feels wrong. Don’t you see that? You’re grieving. I’d be a first-class heel to take advantage of that.”

  “So you’re going to take the moral high ground? Tell me something, Brock. Isn’t there just a little bit of satisfaction that you get when you kiss me because I was Alex’s wife?” As soon as she voiced the question, she wished she hadn’t. As soon as she voiced the question, she knew she’d trod into territory that was dangerous and taboo.

  Brock’s jaw set. Rising to his feet, he said firmly, “We’re going to stop this now before we both say things we’re going to be sorry for.”

  “The moral high ground again? Or avoidance?”

  “Sometimes avoidance is safer,” he snapped.

  “Sometimes avoidance causes more misery,” she returned, her emotions in a turbulent squall. Why couldn’t he admit it if he felt something for her?

  Yet on the other hand, maybe what he felt was simply too complex to deal with. It was all wrapped up with his memories of Saddle Ridge, a rivalry with Alex that Jack had set up, an attempt to stay removed from anything or anyone who could hurt him more.

  She bit her lower lip. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said what I did. I don’t want to ruin today.”

  He ran a hand through his hair. “Nothing’s ruined. I’m not going to storm out of here because you said something I didn’t like.”

  Maybe she hadn’t ruined the day, but the closeness she’d felt earlier was gone.

  “I’m going to call my mother and wish her a merry Christmas. After that, maybe we can play Scrabble until dinner’s ready. I saw the box in the closet.”

  “Sometimes Molly and I play.”

  “Great. Then that’s what we’ll do until dinner. I’ll go to my bedroom to make the call.”

  Realizing he wanted privacy, she said brightly, “And I’ll make a salad while you’re doing that.”

  He nodded, then headed toward his bedroom.

  Kylie’s knees were a little wobbly as she pushed herself up from the couch and went to the kitchen, still feeling the effects of Brock’s kiss. She wouldn’t disturb their peace again today. She wouldn’t ask questions she shouldn’t. She wou
ldn’t make observations Brock might not want to hear. But as she thought about the cost of peace, she realized she’d kept quiet much too long in her marriage. If she had been more honest, if she had said exactly what she was feeling…

  Her marriage to Alex might have broken up sooner. Maybe that would have been best. Yet if she and Alex had separated, she wouldn’t be carrying this baby now.

  Some days, life was just too tangled to figure out.

  As Brock headed the new truck toward the Painted Peaks the day after Christmas, he stole a glance at Kylie. She was wearing the cape he’d given her yesterday and seemed to really like it. But she’d been quiet ever since their…argument. After she’d called her mother, too, they’d played Scrabble most of the afternoon with Christmas carols playing in the background. As they’d eaten, she’d talked about Gwen’s wedding…how her friend and Garrett had decided they didn’t want a rehearsal, but rather an unscripted ceremony.

  “What time is Gwen’s wedding Thursday evening?” he asked now to cut through the silence.

  “At seven. But I’ll have to be there around six. We’re going to dress in a room at the back of the church. Have you decided yet if you’re going to go?”

  Before Christmas Eve he hadn’t been sure. But he felt as if a friendship of sorts had begun between him and Garrett, as well as between him and Dylan, so he felt comfortable in attending. “I’ll take you and then go over to the Silver Dollar for a cup of coffee before the ceremony. I didn’t bring a suit. Do you think a shirt and a bolo tie will be all right?”

  “That should be fine. Gwen said there would be less than fifty guests, and they just want everyone to be comfortable and join in their happiness. The reception is in the social hall afterward.”

  Brock’s cell phone suddenly beeped.

  Taking it from his jacket pocket, he checked the window and saw the caller was a man in the exploration and development department of a company he’d worked for in the past. “I should take this,” he said to Kylie.

  “Go ahead.”

  Brock knew as soon as he reached the foothills of the Painted Peaks and started climbing, he’d lose his signal. For that reason, he pulled over to the shoulder of the road. Minutes later, he dropped the truck’s gear into Drive and started off again.

  Now Kylie was looking out the window and not asking any questions. He knew why.

  After another five minutes and a few more miles, he casually mentioned, “It looks as if I’ll be headed to Alaska in March for a few meetings.”

  Although his eyes were still on the road, he could finally feel her turn and look at him. “Your next job?”

  “Possibly. Probably. I won’t know until the initial meetings are over with.”

  They both knew he wasn’t going to stay…that that idea wasn’t even on the table. So why was there this strain between them? Maybe she was worried about how she was going to handle everything. But in the next couple of weeks he’d have papers ready for her to sign and she’d be able to see handling the ranch would be manageable the way he planned to set it up. He hadn’t mentioned the Angus on Christmas because he hadn’t wanted to add to the tension between them. He’d tell her about the cattle when he had everything else arranged.

  After Brock had driven a few more miles into the mountains, he veered off the plowed, main road onto one still packed with snow. He stayed in the ruts of other vehicles that had passed through. “If this gets too rough, we’ll turn back.”

  “I’m not made of glass,” she said lightly. “I want to see the mustangs.”

  Brock almost sighed, wondering how one, small, pregnant woman could be packed with so much spunk.

  Keeping his eyes on the mountains as well as the road, he suddenly stopped. “Up there.” He pointed to a snow-covered crest on Kylie’s side of the pickup.

  “Oh, look at them.” Her voice was almost reverent.

  There were four mustangs standing on the small peak, as if they were a welcoming committee: a dark grey stallion with a pale grey face, powerful-looking against the snow covered peaks, two sorrel mares and a dun-colored foal.

  “You think they’ll take off if we get out?” Kylie asked with that breathless wonder that was so much a part of her whenever she dealt with horses.

  “I’ll try it first and come around to your side. I don’t want you to slip.”

  This time she didn’t argue with him.

  After he got out, he didn’t slam his door, just left it open. Rounding the hood slowly, he gazed up at the mustangs and saw they were watching him. Watching, not running…as if they were curious about his adventure into their territory, territory they’d reclaimed after years of being absent from it.

  When he reached Kylie’s door, he opened it. “Stand on the running board. I’ll lift you down.”

  The snow was deeper outside of the ruts, and she did as he suggested. But then she said, “I can step down. Just give me your arm.”

  Looking into his eyes, he saw that she thought it would be awkward for him to lift her…because of the baby. The baby always seemed to be between them. Yet her pregnancy was a bond tying them together, too. It was ironic. Strange. Unsettling.

  She took hold of his forearm. He held her other hand, too, and eased her down to the snow.

  Gazing up into his eyes she murmured, “Thanks,” but then took a quick step away from him into deeper snow toward the mustangs.

  Reaching into the pickup, he snatched the binoculars. As he held them and focused, he took a few quick photos and then gave them to her.

  She didn’t say anything as she lifted them to her eyes and adjusted the focus for the best view of the mustangs. “They’re just beautiful.”

  He heard in Kylie’s voice, absolute, complete appreciation of the wild horses, their heritage and configuration, their courage in living and roaming and existing. He also heard the faint desire to want to take care of them. Yet she knew she couldn’t. These were wild horses, created for the land. Created to roam. Created to be free. She’d adopted one because the government agency thinned the herd and she couldn’t stand the thought of the horses homeless…or worse. Yet she knew these animals belonged here, just as she did.

  They passed the binoculars back and forth a few times after he showed her how to snap pictures with them.

  “Shaye told me Dylan has a pair like this. Do you use them in your work?”

  “Sometimes. I automatically tossed them into my duffel before I flew out.”

  One of the sorrels walked up to the other. The foal joined them and the stallion stood alone, gazing down at them, taking their measure. Then he turned, bobbed his head and all four horses disappeared from the crest of the hill.

  Kylie sighed. “I could have stood here all day, just watching them.”

  “We’re lucky we saw them. They could have been anywhere.”

  Suddenly the stallion reappeared on the crest. Blue sky framed him as the sun glinted off his coat.

  Brock was holding the binoculars, and he raised them to take a picture he knew would leave an indelible impression, and an indelible memory—as so many did where Kylie was concerned.

  As soon as he snapped the photo, the horse disappeared again.

  There were tears in Kylie’s eyes when Brock looked at her.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked gently, though his own chest was tight.

  “He was just so…so…magnificent. Yet so alone.”

  “He has his band.”

  “I know,” she replied, giving him a weak smile. “I know. But it’s winter and it’s just the four of them. And…” She fluttered her hands. “You know how I am about horses.”

  Yes, he did know. “It’s winter. And then it will be spring, and summer and fall. Now that they’re here, more will join them. Soon the Painted Peaks’ canyons will echo with the sound of hoofbeats again.”

  When he gazed into Kylie’s eyes, he knew she was thinking about the mustangs. But she was also thinking about spring, and summer and fall. Her baby would be born…and he woul
d be gone.

  “Come on. It’s cold out here.”

  This time he knew the easiest thing to do. He scooped her up into his arms and set her inside the pickup. When he extricated himself from her, her eyes were brimming with tears. She closed them.

  Although it was difficult to do, he stepped away. When he shut her door, he knew driving up here with her today had been a mistake. He should have let Dylan bring her.

  Or maybe even Seth.

  He just knew he didn’t want to feel the wrenching discomfort in his chest, the acid bite in his stomach, the unnerving disquiet that he was sure would follow him when he walked away from her and her baby.

  Chapter Eleven

  In her wedding gown, Gwen looked like a princess, Kylie thought as she adjusted the tulle of her friend’s veil.

  “You feeling okay?” Gwen asked, quickly turning around and undoing the straightening Kylie had just accomplished.

  “Can’t you hold still for two minutes?”

  The three of them had arranged each other’s hair in the dressing room and attached bathroom, then donned their gowns. Afterward Shaye had ventured out into the vestibule to find their flowers. Gwen had been fidgeting, pacing and powdering her nose for the tenth time in the last five minutes. She was absolutely stunning in the long-sleeved beaded bodice and princess-style chiffon skirt.

  “Of course I can’t stand still. I’m getting married and I’m about to say the most important words in my whole life. I can’t wait to do it, that’s all. And you didn’t answer my question.”

  “I’m feeling great.”

  Now Gwen studied her with narrowed eyes. After a long perusal she admitted, “You look great. That mauve-velvet gown suits you beautifully. But you’re too quiet, even for you. Let me guess what’s on your mind. Brock, maybe?”

  This was Gwen, a woman as close to her as a sister. Still, it was hard for Kylie to admit she was being foolish…hard for her to admit she wanted something she couldn’t have. “Maybe I’m worried about my baby, labor and delivery. Maybe I’m worried about whether or not I should have him or her at home.” Gwen would be back from her honeymoon the day after New Year’s—in plenty of time to coach her. They’d have a practice run after she returned.