by Angel Smits
Kenny didn’t move. A wide stain of dark red grew on the fabric of his shirt.
Suddenly, there was movement everywhere. The couch slid. The door flew open. Strong, familiar arms wrapped around her, lifting her. Holding tight. Jason’s scent permeated the air, engulfing her, the poker and the knives clattering to the floor. She threw her arms around Jason’s neck.
She trembled and Jason moved, taking her away from where Harley knelt beside Kenny. Jason sat down in the big chair, not letting her go. Pulling her tight against him.
She had to know. She struggled back from Jason’s hold, staring first at his face, at the agony there, and then beyond him. To the open doorway. To where Harley was wrapping the colorful afghan around Kenny’s shoulder, holding the blanket tight against his wound. The bright colors soon turned dark red. He didn’t cover his face, though. He was still alive.
Harley was on his phone. Calling for help. She let herself feel a smidgen of relief. Kenny was alive. Would that mean she had to fear him? Would he come back someday? She trembled, and Jason turned her away from the view. He was still taking care of her. But this time she let him. Now that she understood, it didn’t seem quite so overbearing. She curled into him then.
He was talking. She felt his words. It was like in the hospital when she’d burrowed in to feel the vibration. She savored the comfort, but then pushed back, aching to see his face.
Their gazes met. “I almost lost you,” he said, and somehow, she knew it was in a whisper, though she’d never actually heard one. She felt the pain that stole the strength from his voice.
As if suddenly embarrassed by the display of emotion, Jason broke their gazes’ hold and began taking stock of her injuries. He stared at the bright red stain on her cast. He frowned and she moved her unbroken hand to spell “h-i-s.” She nodded toward Kenny and tapped her finger against Jason’s nose. His eyes grew wide, and he turned to look at the injured man.
“That’s my girl.” He smiled, his pride shining through the worry.
She couldn’t hold back any longer. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and pulled his lips down to hers. She had to have him. Had to taste his caring. The saltiness of his lips surprised her. For her. He shed tears for her. This strong, intense man—cried for her.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
ADDIE WAS BAKING. Not good. Jason watched his sister out of the corner of his eye. Everyone loved her cookies. But they all knew that when she was baking—something was up.
He and Lauren had arrived at the ranch last night. The hearing to resolve the contest to Pal’s will was tomorrow, so he’d convinced her to come early, to meet people and be prepared.
“What’s up, Addie?” Jason ventured, noticing that Wyatt paid extra attention to his coffee.
“Nothing.” She put another cookie sheet in the big industrial oven, then started making more round balls of dough.
“Then why are you making all those cookies?”
“Because you all love them.”
“We do.” Jason nodded. “Thanks for making them. So what’s up?” he repeated.
“Uh-oh.” Wyatt shifted in his seat.
“Don’t you go uh-ohing me, Wyatt Hawkins. You have the same concerns I do.”
“I do?”
“Don’t play stupid.” She shook the wooden spoon she’d been using at them both. “Tell him.”
“Tell me what?” Jason settled at the big kitchen table. He knew this had something to do with Lauren. Addie never could resist meddling in anyone’s life.
Wyatt took another drink and didn’t say a word. He didn’t have to.
“Do you love her?” Addie and the lethal spoon faced Jason.
“I don’t know if that’s any of your business. But, yes.”
Another half dozen cookies found their way to the cookie sheet. “Have you told her?”
“I’m going to.”
Addie huffed and finished filling the tray. Wiping her hands on the dish towel, she poured herself a cup of coffee. She sat down to face her brothers. “You want to make it permanent?”
Jason felt like a teenager again, and he didn’t like it. Wyatt and Addie had been as much parents as siblings to him after their father died. But they just couldn’t shake that role now that he’d grown up. “Yes.”
“And you brought her here? She’s a world-famous ballerina. She travels all over.” She waved that spoon again, this time encompassing the whole room, and probably beyond.
Jason looked at Wyatt, who was still focusing on his coffee, but he seemed to feel the weight of Jason’s stare. He looked up then at Addie. “Now, Ad—”
“What’s wrong with here?” Jason asked.
She rolled her eyes. “Are you kidding? She doesn’t fit here. This is not a five-star anything.”
“I resent that,” Wyatt said, finally joining the conversation.
“Because she’s a ballerina?” Addie was being so irrational. This was insane.
“She’s the ballerina. Have you ever seen her perform? It’s amazing.”
Addie was in awe. He’d never seen his sister like this. Jason grinned with pride, and pleasure. He knew better than to laugh. The spoon was still in reach. “Yes, I have seen her perform. You’re right, she’s amazing. But she’s an even better person.”
Addie nodded. “I understand that. It’s just... I’m worried.” The timer went off then, and she returned to the stove to take the cookies out. The even rhythm of the spatula between the cookies and the metal cookie sheet was a familiar, comforting sound from Jason’s childhood.
“What are you really worried about, Addie?” Jason stepped over to his sister and snatched a cookie. Also just like his childhood.
“I—” She stopped scooping cookies. “Do you know what you’re getting into with her disability?”
“I know the hurdles. I don’t care that she’s deaf.”
Addie turned and faced him, a glare and spoon at the ready. “Now that’s a blatant lie.”
She surprised him. “What?”
“You most certainly do care. You wouldn’t have learned sign language if you didn’t care.”
“She has a point,” Wyatt actually spoke—then hastily returned to his coffee when they both glared at him.
“Okay, I care. But I can’t let it come between us. Others have done it.”
Addie beat more cookie dough into submission before speaking again. “Are you being realistic?” She looked over, expecting an answer.
He knew she said all this out of caring for him—nothing against Lauren. He put his hands gently on his sister’s shoulders. “I have thought this through. Lauren is deaf. She will always be deaf. There are hurdles.” He took a deep breath. “It kills me that she and I can’t talk this easily.”
Jason moved away and stared out the window at the wide fields that were just coming back to life after the devastating fires.
“I know when she travels, we won’t be able to talk on the phone. We’ll text.” He shrugged. “If we have kids—” He had to clear his throat before going on. “She won’t hear a baby cry in the middle of the night.” The list he’d mentally written got longer each day. “The idea of mothering the teens, Dylan and Tina scares her. Heck, it scares me. But you know what?” He turned to alternately look from Addie to Wyatt.
Addie stared back, wringing the life out of the dish towel in her hands. “What?” she whispered.
“Despite all that, my life would be far worse without her.” The silence hung there, as if to remind him of Lauren’s world—one he was just beginning to understand.
“Don’t worry, Ad.” He knew that was an impossibility but he had to lighten the mood. He heard Wyatt laugh. “Look.” He took the dish towel and set it aside, making sure she was focused on him. “I’m a grown man. If things don’t work out, it woul
dn’t be my first broken heart.” Though it would be, by far, the worst.
“No, that would be Lisa Adams,” Wyatt mumbled.
“Don’t remind me.” Addie frowned. “You were in such pain.”
“I was fourteen!” Jason snatched another cookie. He gave his sister a peck on the cheek. “Thanks for caring, Addie,” he whispered and headed out to find Lauren.
“You were no help, Wyatt,” Addie said, her voice following Jason down the hall.
“Yes, I was,” his brother responded. “He is still speaking to you, isn’t he?”
“Oh, hush.” Jason heard another cookie sheet slide into the oven.
* * *
LAUREN HAD NEVER been to a ranch before. She and Jason had arrived last night to a house full of people—his siblings, their families and ranch hands. People who didn’t know sign language, but tried so hard to be polite to her.
Her world felt a million miles away.
Footsteps thumped on the floor behind her. The only person who would approach her was Jason.
Lauren stood at the veranda’s rail, but turned to look over her shoulder and fought the urge to smile. The city-slicker attorney was long gone. Jason wore a blue cotton work shirt and worn jeans. Weathered boots peeked out from the stack of denim at his ankles. It reminded her of the night they’d gone dancing.
“Country looks good on you,” she signed.
He laughed, and not for the first time, she wondered what small piece she was missing by not being able to hear it. She seldom felt that way, but lately, with Jason she questioned everything. She turned back to the view of the valley spread out before her. It was nearly as stunning as he was.
Wyatt Hawkins’s ranch house was big yet homey. She could imagine a family growing up here. Kids running wild across the wide prairie, riding horses hell-bent-for-leather, climbing trees and swimming in rivers when their parents weren’t watching. All the things she’d read about in books and seen on TV. And that Jason had shared with her about his childhood.
Nothing remotely related to her growing up in LA.
Jason stepped closer and after catching her gaze, he pointed north, his arm sweeping from left to right across most of the horizon. She frowned, questioning him. He’d told her about the devastating fires, but the land was recovering. What was he showing her?
“H-a-y-m-a-k-e-r land.” He signed. “All the way to the next county.”
She could only stare. If her father had claimed her while he was alive, would she have grown up here? Something inside her ached.
Movement on the horizon caught her eye, and she watched, mesmerized as a herd of cattle ambled up from the edge of the earth and headed toward them. Half a dozen men on horses were behind them. Dust rose up from the multitude of hooves and the sun shone off the floating dirt.
“Who?” she asked.
“W-y-a-t-t-s men.” He pointed to the bluff. “Old pasture. Time to move them in closer.”
“Why?”
“B-r-a-n-d-i-n-g. Fresh food.” He tilted his head and took her hand. Leading her down the steps, Jason headed toward the big barn. The doors stood open, and the scent of animals wafted out of the wide doorway. Curious, she followed.
It took a minute for her eyes to adjust to the shadowed interior, but she trusted him. Finally, he stopped, and she joined him at the edge of a stall. A colt, black-and-white with thin legs and big beautiful eyes stared at them. Curious about them as well.
“Name?” she asked, her fingers hitting together in the sign.
“D-o-m-i-n-o,” he spelled and she smiled.
It was a perfect name for him. The colt moved closer to the gate, and Jason gently stroked the horse’s nose, slowly moving up to his ears. She stood back, not sure what to do. Her only experience with a horse had been when they’d ridden up to the cabin. Jason and Harley had taken care of everything then. She shivered, drawn to the animal.
She wanted to touch the horse and yet, what if she did it wrong? She held back.
Jason smiled at her, gently guiding her closer, pulling her hand forward with his. She was so enthralled. The beautiful animal stared at her with such wide, friendly eyes.
The fur of his nose was soft beneath her fingers, as were his ears. She was surprised that the long strands of his mane weren’t as soft as she’d expected. And yet...she loved touching him, loved the feel of Jason beside her, his arms protecting her as the horse accepted her affections.
She’d never felt closer to anyone than she did this man. And for the first time, such closeness didn’t scare her.
Suddenly, Jason stepped back, leaving her alone with the colt. She turned to look at him and was surprised to see him pull a folded piece of paper from his pocket.
“What’s that?” she signed.
Jason looked at the paper. After a long moment, he extended it to her. As she took it, he signed. “Kenny’s confession. It explains a lot.”
“How did you get this?”
“Helps to know connected people.” He grinned. “C-h-l-o-e faxed it this morning.” His colleague who had helped Dylan. Lauren must remember to thank her.
She quickly scanned the page, her throat going dry as she read his confession. He’d stalked her for months. How had she not noticed? He’d crossed paths with her by chance in the beginning, when he’d covered a coworker’s shift, but after that, he’d calculated everything.
He’d attended the ballet and learned what nights she taught late. Watching, waiting. When Jason showed up to give her a ride home, that had put Kenny over the edge. Something had snapped. He had to have her, had to make her pay, he’d told the police. Lauren shivered.
“He admitted to setting the fire.” Jason cringed. He moved closer now that she’d finished reading the paper and folded it. “He found you in the mountains by pinging your phone.”
She didn’t even know that was possible, or that Kenny was smart enough to do something like that.
“How?”
Jason shrugged. “I don’t know how it works. Your phone is on the table. I d-i-s-a-b-l-e-d that feature after reading this.” He lifted his chin, as if waiting for her to dish out some of her usual indignation for him doing that. She didn’t.
“Thank you. You take good care of me.”
And he did. She just wasn’t sure what that meant for the future, for either of them.
“Take that—” He tapped the paper. “To court tomorrow. It can’t hurt.”
She nodded slowly, planting her hands on his broad chest, almost wishing he’d added a cowboy hat to finish off the look. “Kiss me,” she signed and lifted up on her toes. Almost high enough.
Rather than kissing her, Jason looked into her eyes as if searching for something. He cupped her chin with his big hands, his thumb sliding over her lips. “I—”
Why did he hesitate? Then he bent his head, just a little, to meet her lips and she ignored everything except the rightness of it.
* * *
THERE WEREN’T MANY people in the courthouse this early in the day. Why would there be, she wondered. It was a small town. She’d met the judge last night when he’d been at the restaurant they’d all gone to for dinner, for heaven’s sake. The man was actually Emily’s boss.
Life in a small town was very different from Los Angeles. Jason had dropped her off out front, while he parked the car. She was glad for the time alone to gather her thoughts. Now, sitting here, on a bench outside the courtroom, waiting for Jason and the Haymaker family—her family—she felt lonely.
When had she stopped feeling independent? When had she stopped relishing her solitary time?
A movement at the end of the hall made her look up. The morning sunlight poured in onto the highly waxed linoleum. She could only see the silhouettes of the three people who approached.
As they drew closer, Laur
en gasped. Maxine, Dylan and Tina stood there, their arms linked, as if blocking anyone else from coming through. The older woman smiled and, they all walked toward Lauren.
She didn’t bother to stop herself from opening her arms and letting her foster mother enfold her in a warm hug. They clung together for a long minute before Maxine pulled away. She didn’t sign, she spoke, making sure Lauren could see her lips. “We’re here to support you.” She pointed at each of them. “We’re your family. Today.”
“Every day.” Tina stepped closer.
Lauren blinked away the tears, hoping to—to what? Show them she could do this on her own? She couldn’t, and it was time she admitted it to herself and the rest of them. Jason had shown her that she could lean on someone and still be strong.
And it was a lesson she needed to make sure both these kids learned.
The light changed again, and she looked up. Where Maxine had stood a moment ago, Jason entered. He looked as surprised as she felt. She let out a breath that she hadn’t realized she’d been holding when a smile spread over his face.
“Now this is what I like to see,” he said, and signed. They all shared hugs.
The bailiff stuck his head out of the courtroom’s door just then. “Five minutes.”
Jason nodded. “Thanks, Bill.” He looked around, a frown replacing his smile. “Have you seen the Haymakers?” he asked the group. Lauren shook her head and the others joined in.
As if on cue, Trey came through the closed door at the other end of the hall. Another man who Lauren recognized as Pal Jr. followed him. Both men glared at her. Her heart sank.
She’d never needed anyone before, never let herself want to need someone. So why did their snub hurt? Why did she want them to want her?
Maxine’s arm around her shoulder helped.
Trey and Pal Jr. walked over to the door, brushing past the bailiff as if the older man wasn’t even there.
Bill frowned, then shrugged and propped the double doors open. “Might as well come on in.”
