* * *
She was gonna have a bruise on her ass the size of a frying pan, and her head was starting to ache, but bruises healed and headaches went away.
Everyone knew what happened to horses that came up lame.
“It’s probably just a sprain, Jamie. He’s a tough horse. I’m more worried about you.”
Now he was talking to her. He’d tried to make her ride Rosie home while he led Nash, but she’d refused. She’d tacked him up, she’d ridden him, she’d get him back to the stable.
Five days since he’d bared his soul to her and they’d barely seen each other. Yes, they’d been slammed with tasks, but seriously, sex like that was an opening act, to be followed by overtime, double encore, and standing ovation.
Right now, it felt like a failed audition.
She ran a trembling hand over Nash’s broad neck. “Hey, boy, you’re going to be okay.”
She didn’t give a good goddamn about falling off. But Nash’s limping gait filled her with dread.
Tears blurred her vision and she leaned into the horse, her boots dragging over the tufted grass.
A thump and then Gideon was beside her.
He took Nash’s reins from her and pushed her toward the mare. “Please. Get on Rosie. Do it for me.”
She whirled on him. “For you? Why? What do you care?” The tears were flowing freely now and she rushed at him, her fists out. “It’s your fault this happened. If I hadn’t been so distracted, wondering what was going on between us, I would have been paying attention. I wouldn’t have fallen, Nash wouldn’t be hurt, Huck wouldn’t have had to come help Maggie and Ed bring the cattle in.”
He caught her forearms and pulled him to his chest. “He’s going to be okay, Jamie. Ice and rest will put him right.”
But she pushed back. “You don’t know that! He’s a trail horse, Gideon. If he’s not fit for riding, what’ll happen to him? He’s such a good horse.”
As she looked up at him, fat rain droplets started spattering the earth, one here, another there, making blades of grass jump and dance in her peripheral vision.
One struck her cheek, then another on his forehead. He looked the way he’d looked the night he’d told her about the accident, like he was bracing for a blow. Without thinking, she reached up to smooth the rain drop away from his eye.
“Oh, Gideon,” she said. “Please don’t break my heart. You know I love you.”
His face collapsed, fell in on itself, and this time when he pulled her to his chest, she let him.
“Jamie,” he whispered into her hair. “I wish I could be the man you deserve.”
“You are! I deserve you. And you deserve me. Why can’t you believe that? Why can’t you trust that what we have is good and right?”
He shook his head, but his hand still tenderly stroked her hair. “It’s not about that.”
“Well then, what is it about?” She lifted her face, searching for clues that would explain his ambivalence. He loved her too. She knew it. She knew it! What was he afraid of?
He tightened his grip on her and she could feel him shaking.
“Gideon? You’re scaring me.”
“I’m so sorry, Jamie.” His voice was broken, utterly shattered. “I let things go too far. Lana is pushing hard. If I want to have Blake in my life . . .”
She gripped the front of his denim shirt. “What? Tell me?”
“I might have to leave.”
“Leave?” She didn’t understand. “Go where? For how long?”
Water dripped down his face. “Wherever Lana and Elliot take Blake.”
“But . . . can she do that?”
He lifted one shoulder, let it fall. “She can do whatever she wants. She mentioned moving back to Las Vegas. The drive now is one thing, but I can’t fly my son back and forth from Vegas. I can’t do that to him. If she moves, I have to go, too.”
She touched his cheek again. Was some of it tears? She couldn’t tell. “I’ll move too, then.”
He shook his head. “Jamie, this is your home. I couldn’t ask that of you, and anyway I don’t know what’s going to happen. I’m sorry. I didn’t know how to tell you.”
She swallowed. “I love you, Gideon.”
He lowered his face, pressed his forehead against hers. Then, with a sigh, he moved to kiss her. She met him, pulling him close, taking his lips between her teeth, sucking his tongue into her mouth, greedy, desperate, starving for him.
They stood in the rain, sheltered from the wind by the horses, and she kissed him as if she might never get the chance again.
For all she knew, it was the truth.
Chapter Twenty-Six
The Jupiter–Pluto square has the potential to be
productive—if you can resist the urge to use
force.
—Jamie’s horoscope
Lana had brought Blake for another visit, and according to Gideon, she hadn’t made any further demands. Olivia gave both Jamie and Gideon time off to spend with the boy, and during the visit, they’d gotten him into the corral and onto Rosie.
Gideon had led them around while Jamie took pictures and video on his phone. They looked so good together, Gideon tall and dark, Blake small and fair, but with the same tilt to his head when he asked a question, the same quirk of his lips when he smiled.
Only, when they’d led Rosie into the field, the boy had started rubbing his nose. By the time they’d reached the ridge with the view of the ocean, his eyes had turned red and he’d begun complaining. When they’d gotten back to the ranch, poor Blake had been crying for Lana, begging to go home.
Now, Jamie watched while Gideon stood next to the kitchen counter, one hand protectively on his son’s leg while Aiden examined the boy. Blake’s wails had subsided to low, hiccupping sobs.
“An allergic reaction?” Gideon sounded relieved, annoyed, and bewildered all at the same time. “Are you sure?”
“He should be seen by his pediatrician when he gets home,” Aiden said, holding a cool compress against Blake’s eyes, “but from the way he’s responded to the antihistamine, I’d hang my hat on it. A lot of people are allergic to horses.”
“What?” Gideon’s mouth dropped open, then slammed shut. He looked away.
Jamie’s heart ached for him. They were just starting to connect. She’d seen the excitement in the boy’s eyes, his pride at wearing the new boots Gideon had purchased for him. The triumph at sitting astride Rosie’s back.
Not being able to share his love of horses with Blake would hurt, bad.
“We don’t know the extent of his reactivity,” Aiden said. “It might not be horses at all, either, since he’s seen them once before. It’s ragweed season, after all. Or it’s horses, but it’s dose-dependent. Maybe a bit of dander or hair got directly in his eye and that’s what caused the acute swelling and tearing. Don’t panic just yet, Gideon. You might still be able to teach Blake to ride.”
Aiden stood up and gathered his supplies, this examination over, the drama overrated.
“I don’ wanna ride Rosie anymore,” Blake said in a hitching voice. “I wanna go home.”
“Your mom’s not coming for two hours.” Gideon’s bleak announcement triggered a fresh bout of tears from Blake.
“I want my mommy.” He was somewhat subdued from the medication but not enough for him to forget the trauma.
Jamie couldn’t hang back any longer. “Hey, hey,” she said, muscling in beside Gideon. She took Blake’s hands in hers. “Thank goodness we’ve got two more hours with you. This is the time of day when the fairies come out to play.”
Blake looked up. “Fairies?” he said in a small voice.
Gideon made a noise in the back of his throat, but Jamie threw him a look that shut him up.
“Work with me, cowboy,” she whispered.
He opened his mouth, then closed it and gestured for her to continue.
“Fairies, leprechauns, elves, we’ve got all kinds. They’re super-shy, so I can’t guarantee we’ll
see them, but if you want, I can show you the place where we’ve got the best chance. Gideon, do you want to come along?”
He looked around himself as if evidence against the existence of fairies was just at his fingertips, if only he could find it. Then he shrugged. “Sure. Why not?”
“Hey, Daff,” Jamie called.
The cook had been hovering in the background during the crisis, but popped out from the baker’s pantry now and rushed to Blake’s side. “How’s our boy? Is everything okay? Oh, the poor lamb.”
“He’s fine, Daphne,” Gideon said. “It’s just an allergic reaction.”
“You don’t know what Blake is going through.” Daphne put her hands on her hips, irritation spiking her words.
“My eyes hurt,” Blake said, his voice wobbling again.
Jamie wanted to smack sense into Gideon and understood that Daphne felt the same way. But she knew, better than most, how sensitive children were to the emotions around them, how much they hated and feared conflict among adults, especially when they had no one familiar to cling to.
“Can you get us a snack, Daphne?” Jamie asked. “We’re going fairy hunting in the apple orchard, and I think Blake might be hungry.”
“Ah, fairy hunting.” Daphne assumed an Irish brogue. “’Tis a lovely time to be hunting the wee folk. Watch the shadows, young Blake. That’s where they dance.”
She hurried out to the walk-in fridge, muttering over her shoulder about men who didn’t have the sense God gave them.
“Two hours of fairy hunting, huh?” said Gideon, hoisting Blake onto his hip. The boy laid his head against Gideon’s broad shoulder. “You think that’s wise?”
“You got a better idea?”
“There’s a TV right there. He’s probably going to fall asleep anyway.”
“Uh-huh. And when his mom asks what you did with him, is that what you want to report?”
“Fine.” He walked out the door.
Jamie found a blanket in the closet and then waited at the counter while Daphne put together a basket of snacks.
“What’s his problem?” Jamie said. “He’s acting like Blake did this on purpose. The kid needs comfort, not whatever that was.”
“Be careful now, my girl.” Daphne spoke mildly, but it was enough to still Jamie’s tongue. Daphne could call down all manner of curses upon the heads of those who wronged her, but no one trash-talked those she loved in her presence.
“He’s afraid, you know. He could probably use a little encouragement from his best friend.”
Jamie swallowed. “Yeah. That’s me. The best friend.”
Daphne squeezed her arm. “Hang in there, my girl. He’s in a tough place right now. He needs you to believe in him.”
“But—”
“No buts.” She pushed the basket into Jamie’s hands. “Here. Banana muffins. Men are always more cooperative when you feed them.”
* * *
Gideon sat down with his back against the trunk of a tree heavy with fruit just beginning to ripen and settled the boy between his knees. Blake wasn’t asleep, but he was drowsy enough to allow himself to be carried without protest.
“Is this where the fairies are?” he asked.
“This is an apple orchard.” Lana was going to freak out when she got a look at Blake.
“Have you seen fairies?” Blake persisted.
“Nope. Sorry, bud.”
“But Jamie has?”
“I guess you’ll have to ask her.”
Blake thought for a moment. “Don’t you like her anymore?”
Gideon started. “Jamie? Of course I still like her. She’s . . . she’s my best friend.”
And so much more. But he turned his mind away from that. If he had to leave, it would be painful enough already, without them giving in to the attraction simmering between them.
Giving in more, he amended. Giving in again.
Though every night, before he fell asleep, his thoughts went to the taste of her lips and the warmth and softness of her body and how he’d give anything to bury himself inside her again and hear her tell him she loved him.
His breath caught in his throat.
Not anything. Not if the price was Blake.
Blake snuggled closer to him. “You shouldn’t use your mad voice with her, then.”
“I have a mad voice?”
Jamie arrived then, set the basket onto the grass, and spread out the blanket.
“Everyone has a mad voice,” she said. “Sounds like I walked in on an interesting conversation. What did I miss?”
“Gideon used his mad voice, so I thought he didn’t like you,” Blake explained. “But he said he did. I like you, Jamie. I think he should talk nice to you.”
“I agree.” Jamie’s eyes twinkled. “Here, have a muffin.”
Blake scrambled off Gideon’s lap and onto the blanket next to Jamie. He carefully peeled the wrapper off a muffin, folded it, and handed it to Jamie before taking a bite.
He was so tidy. Too tidy for a kid. Kids should be messy and wild.
“Gideon says he never sees fairies.”
“Oh, they only show themselves to people who believe,” Jamie responded. She stroked the boy’s hair lightly. “It’s very important to believe, you know. But it’s a lot easier for kids. Gideon’s a very responsible grown-up, and sometimes responsible grown-ups have the hardest time believing in things they can’t see.”
“So they can’t see them, if they don’t believe?”
Jamie nodded. “But maybe if you see one, he’ll believe.”
They chattered back and forth, with Jamie pointing into the sunshine as the rays lengthened and lowered. Dust motes danced in the air. Between the kid’s swollen eyes and the drugs, he’d probably go home saying he saw purple elephants flying through the trees. What would Lana think of that?
Blake giggled, pointed at something with his tiny fingers, and then tucked his head under Jamie’s arm.
A few minutes later, he was asleep.
Jamie laid him onto the blanket, bunching up a corner for a pillow.
“So,” Gideon asked, “did he see a fairy?”
“Don’t know. You can ask him when he wakes up. But he had fun looking. That’s the main thing.”
“Kids need to know the real world, the sooner the better.”
Jamie took a breath. “That’s exactly why they need to chase fantasies, because the real world will intrude all too soon. You’re pulling away from me, Gideon. I feel it and I understand. But don’t pull away from Blake, okay? You’re a good dad. He needs you.”
A piece of muffin broke off and fell to the blanket.
He was deeply touched. Her opinion meant more to him than anyone’s. And probably no one else understood how badly he wanted to make a good impression on Blake. And to show Lana that he could be trusted with their son.
“James,” he said softly.
She looked away, squinting against the scarlet light. “It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The Aquarius Full Moon is time to wind down
projects that have to do with friends and
charitable concerns.
—Jamie’s horoscope
Jamie was in the kitchen nursing a cup of coffee when Haylee walked in.
“Whoa,” she said, taking in Haylee’s rumpled demeanor. “You look like something the cat yarked up.”
“Good morning to you, too.” Haylee groaned. “My back is killing me. I couldn’t sleep, and the very idea of bacon and eggs makes me nauseous. I thought I’d get some tea and toast before I head down the hill. Ezra and Gideon want to get this done as soon as possible, and I don’t blame them.”
Haylee wasn’t the only one who’d been restless last night, Jamie thought. They were slaughtering the spring steer today, and it wasn’t anyone’s favorite day. She didn’t participate, but knowing what was happening in the far shed distracted her all day.
“I’d have thought being fourteen mont
hs pregnant would have gotten you a pass,” she commented.
“I don’t want a pass.” Haylee curled her lip. “I hate being treated like I’m made of glass. I’ll be off twiddling my thumbs soon enough. Until then, I’ll pull my weight.”
They sipped their beverages quietly. Haylee had handed over the training of Honey and Chaos, and Jamie knew how hard that had been for her. She watched, provided commentary and advice, and she still took Jewel to visit the school kids and seniors. But other than that, Jamie ran the kennel.
If Gideon left, how could Jamie not go with him? But how could she leave all this behind?
Sage and Daphne were in the kitchen, the cook rolling out dough for her famous cinnamon buns, not listening to one of her reading group podcasts, or so it seemed since her earbuds dangled over her chest. Sage was poring over a stack of pages.
She lifted her head, noticing her mother’s arrival.
“Hey, Ma, can you watch Sal tomorrow morning for me? I’ve got a meeting.”
Haylee blinked and her fair cheeks went pink. “Sure.” The tips of her lips tilted as if she was trying to hide a smile. “What meeting?”
Sage usually addressed her as Haylee. Ma was an upgrade, and clearly, she liked it.
Sage tilted her head toward the papers in front of her and rolled her eyes. “You know. Getting those last credits so I can brag about graduating high school before twenty.”
Jamie lifted her hand, and she and Sage exchanged air high-fives. “You go, girl.”
“You bet, honey.” Haylee twisted sideways, and an audible pop sounded from her low back. “Oh, that’s better. Where is the munchkin anyway? Sleeping?”
Sage shook her head. “She was fussing so Huck took her outside for a walk. With any luck, she’ll fill her diaper while they’re out and he’ll change it for me.”
Jamie smiled. Huck had a massive crush on Sage, the poor, sweet, deluded soul, ignoring her proclamations about being off men, maybe forever.
As to Sal’s paternity, Sage kept the lid securely shut on that intel, claiming Sal had no father.
It made her sad. Oh, little Sal had no lack of love and attention. But there was no replacing a father.
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