A Cold Creek Baby

by RaeAnne Thayne

  “Until he comes back and disrupts everything again.”

  Her head and her heart ached to think of years spent waiting for his next appearance. “Right.”

  “It’s probably only a matter of time until the next bar fight kills him.”

  “Don’t say that,” she whispered. “Oh, please, don’t say that.”

  He gave her a long, careful look and for a moment the only sound in the garden were the bees buzzing around Jo’s perennials and the wind soughing through the trees.

  Finally he sighed. “It’s him, isn’t it?”

  She didn’t pretend to misunderstand what he meant.

  “I don’t want it to be,” she whispered miserably, sinking onto Jo’s favorite bench.

  He joined her and stretched out his legs. “You can’t force feelings that aren’t there.”

  To her vast relief, his expression seemed more rueful than genuinely hurt.

  “I care about you, Easton,” he went on. “I think with a little effort on both our parts, that could grow into more than just a pretty good friendship.”

  “I want that, too.”

  “Part of you might. But I’m guessing a big part of you is still tangled up with him. Maybe it always will be.”

  Oh, she hoped not. She was tired of being miserable and lonely.

  She wanted to ask Trace to give her more time before he completely gave up on her, but she recognized how unfair that would be. Not many men would be willing to wait around for a woman to fall out of love with someone else.

  “I’m sorry,” she murmured.

  She felt his shrug where their shoulders touched and his smile was tinged with regret. “Same here. But I’m sure we’ll both somehow survive.”

  They sat for several moments in silence and she watched the bees move from flower to flower, always leaving something behind while they took what they needed.

  “I’ve been in love with Cisco since the day he showed up at the ranch,” she finally said. “He was twelve. I was nine. That day, as he stood there in jeans that were about three inches too short and raggedy, holey tennis shoes, I just knew. I…keep trying to break free, but every time I think I can, he comes back for a few days or maybe a week and I’m right back there, tangled up in knots.”

  “Does he know?”

  She let out a breath. She hadn’t even voiced the words to her closest friends. Even if they might suspect, they didn’t know. Yet here she was spilling all her foolish, ridiculous hopes and dreams to the man she had hoped might help her finally get over them.

  “No one does.”

  One of Suzy’s puppies wandered over to them and licked at Trace’s boot. He scooped it into his lap and scratched its ears. At the gesture, Easton suddenly, absurdly, felt the sting of tears.

  He was the sort of man she wanted to love. Good and decent, committed to his family and keeping his town safe. They could have a good life together, if she could only get Cisco del Norte out of her system.

  Suzy apparently felt her puppy had been out of her care long enough. She wandered over to them and waited patiently at Easton’s side until Trace set the pup back down in the dirt.

  “There you go, Mama. See, safe and sound.”

  She didn’t doubt he would take care of a woman with that same tender care.

  “I don’t want to see you hurt, Easton.”

  She already had been. She thought about the pain she had already endured, those months of deep loneliness and fear and then the ache of her empty arms. But she had endured. She had learned she was stronger than she ever imagined she could be.

  “I appreciate that, Trace.”

  “Maybe you should use his time here to throw your cards out onto the table. Tell him how you feel. See if he might feel the same. Maybe that’s what’s always been keeping you from getting over him and moving on somewhere else, because some part of you is still hanging on to some kind of hope for the two of you.”

  She opened her mouth to protest, then closed it again. He was exactly right, she suddenly realized.

  Cisco had turned to her after Guff died. He had held her with breathtaking tenderness. The kiss they had shared only the night before was evidence that heat still sizzled between them and she knew it wasn’t only one-sided.

  Was it possible one tiny corner of her heart was ridiculous enough to hang on to the vain hope that Cisco would admit he loved her? That he would come to see he couldn’t possibly leave her again?

  “I…you could be right,” she said.

  “Listen to me, giving you advice on how to get together with another guy, one I don’t trust and don’t particularly like. I’ve got to be crazy, right?”

  “I think you’re wonderful,” she said.

  He gave a laugh that was half groan. “Too bad you don’t mean that the way I’d like you to.”

  “Seriously, Trace. I…this isn’t going to come out right, but you’re the first man who’s made me want to stop being so hung up on…well, the impossible.”

  His laugh was rueful and utterly charming. “I guess that’s something.”

  She leaned her head sideways against his shoulder for a moment, deeply grateful for his friendship.

  “If anything changes after this visit of del Norte’s, you know where to find me,” he said after a moment. “Even if you just need an ear. I’m not exactly an expert at girl talk, but a good cop learns early how to listen.”

  “Thanks, Trace. I mean it.”

  Something subtly changed in the atmosphere, like ripples of energy from a faraway explosion. She glanced toward the back porch suddenly and there he was. Cisco stood watching them, his expression shuttered. He didn’t have the baby in his arms, so Easton assumed Belle was sleeping.

  Trace followed her gaze and she felt his muscles tense.

  “I say we give him something to chew on,” Trace murmured. A dimple flashed in his cheek.

  Before she could ask what he meant, he dipped his mouth to hers, angling his neck so that all Cisco could see was the back of his head while he delivered what Easton could only guess was a very accurate impression of a passionate embrace, when in reality their mouths were barely touching.

  By the time he pulled away, Easton didn’t know whether to laugh or smack him. Her cheeks felt as if she’d just spent all day in the sun.

  “You can thank me later.” He winked at her and stood up. “Walk me to my truck?”

  She complied, careful not to look toward the house to see if Cisco was still watching them.

  “Be careful, okay?” Trace said after he opened his vehicle door.

  “I will. Thank you.”

  He gave that rueful smile again, climbed into his vehicle and headed back down the driveway.

  She watched after him for a moment, turned to return to the garden, then gave a gasp when she found Cisco standing only a few yards away from her. How in the world did a big man like him manage to move so soundlessly? The image of that mountain lion loomed in her head again and she shivered.

  With his shaggy too-long hair, that hint of razor stubble and his faded jeans and snug T-shirt that showed off the tattoo on his forearm, he looked wild and dangerous.

  “So you and the cop, huh? Looks serious.”

  How was she supposed to answer that? Considering that Trace had only kissed her to make Cisco jealous, she couldn’t very well agree. She said nothing, which Cisco apparently interpreted as assent.

  “That’s good. From what I hear, he’s a good man.”

  His casual words slid like ice shards into her throat. A good man. He couldn’t make it any more obvious that he wanted nothing more than to push her toward Trace. He almost sounded relieved, damn him.

  She reached down to pick up the trowel. “That’s funny,” she said, unable to keep the bitterness from her voice. “He was just saying the opposite about you.”

  A muscle tightened in his jaw and something bleak flashed in his eyes. “You should listen to him,” he said, then turned abruptly and headed back inside the house, th
e back porch door banging shut behind him.

  She drew in a deep breath, then another, then another, Trace’s words echoing in her ears.

  Maybe that’s what’s always been keeping you from getting over him and moving on somewhere else, because some part of you is still hanging on to some kind of hope for the two of you.

  Trace was right. She had to know.

  Now she only had to find the courage to ask him.

  Cisco gripped the top rail of one of the kitchen chairs so tightly that he could feel the slats digging into his palms.

  He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the image of her in Bowman’s arms. His chest felt like it was on fire and he had an insane urge to overturn every single chair in the kitchen, break all the china, grab the entire kitchen cabinets off the wall and hurl them to the floor.

  He took a deep breath, working fiercely to calm himself. He had no right to be jealous. He wanted Easton to be happy. He hated thinking about her living here alone with no one to laugh with or share her life.

  She had suffered great loss and pain, first her parents and then her aunt and uncle who had been surrogate parents. She deserved a good man like Bowman, someone free to take care of her, to look out for her, to make her smile.

  She lived alone here at the ranch, throwing everything she had into it. He figured it was time she took a little joy for herself.

  Trace Bowman appeared to besotted. He was the sort of man who would cherish a woman like Easton. He wouldn’t try to stamp out her independence, the strong, courageous traits she had learned from Jo and Janet, her own mother.

  If the Pine Gulch police chief could give Easton all the things in life she deserved, Cisco needed to just get the hell out of the way and let him.

  He looked around the kitchen, familiar and comforting. The silly little clock above the stove Guff had brought back for Jo from a stock trip to Denver. The battered iridescent plastic tumblers he remembered winning at the county fair one year when he was maybe fifteen that Jo had insisted on displaying as proudly as if they were bone china. The kitchen table, where he and the others had learned to laugh and share and become a family.

  Whether she ended up with Bowman or somebody else, Cisco wouldn’t come back here after she married. How could he? The idea of seeing her settled, in love, round and glowing with another man’s child, would rip him apart.

  So he would just head back down south and stay there this time. When he finally washed out and outlived his usefulness to the various agencies who used his skills, he would just buy a shack on some beach in Mexico and spend the rest of his life in flipflops and cutoffs, casting a line out for his dinner and trying to forget Cold Creek Canyon and home and Easton.

  A half hour later, he had locked most of his lousy mood away and was making a sandwich with leftover roast he found in the refrigerator when Easton walked into the kitchen from outside.

  He didn’t know how to interpret her expression, which seemed upset and wary at the same time.

  She crossed to the sink and turned on the water to wash her hands. “If Aunt Jo could see how I’ve let her garden go the last few years, I’m afraid she would have a few choice words for me.”

  “You’ve had your hands full with everything else. I’m sure Jo would understand you’re trying your best.”

  She flashed him a quick look. “You think so?”

  “You know how Jo was. Always after the silver lining. Selective myopia, I think. She wanted to see only the best in everyone.”

  “True enough.”

  “Just look at Quinn, Brant and me. She took three rough, difficult boys who were probably headed for miserable lives and turned us all into pretty decent men.” He paused. “Well, most of us, anyway.”

  She frowned. “Stop it.”

  He should just shut up right now, but the words seem to ooze out of him like filthy sludge. “Quinn runs one of the biggest shipping companies in the Northwest. Brant is a highly decorated officer in the Army Rangers. And I spend my days drinking tequila and working on my tan, right? Jo and Guff must be so proud.”

  She shut off the water with jerky movements. “Oh, cry me a river, Cisco. If you don’t like your life, do something about it. Come back to the States. Call Quinn for a job.”

  “My life is fine,” he lied. “Maybe what I don’t like is everybody’s judgmental attitude. You all wonder why I don’t come back to visit more. Maybe because I’m so tired of you all looking down on me when you don’t know one damn thing about me anymore.”

  Okay, maybe he hadn’t quite worked out all of his bad mood. Her eyes widened at the outburst, but before she could answer, his cell phone rang.

  He wanted to ignore it, but a quick check of the caller ID had him scrambling for it. “Yeah. Hello,” he growled.

  A crackle of static and then silence met him on the other end and then a hesitant voice spoke. “Um, hello. This is Sharon Weaver.”

  He could hear crying children in the background and what sounded like a considerable degree of chaos.

  “Hi, Sharon,” he greeted John’s sister. “Is everything okay?”

  “Not really. My van is having some trouble. The cooling system or something like that. I don’t know. It’s in the shop and we’re waiting for a part. So I’m still staying with my mom in Helena and I’m afraid I won’t be able to make it to Pine Gulch to pick up Belle until later than I expected tomorrow.”

  One more day. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Spending another day with Belle would be a delight. He wouldn’t have expected it but she had wrapped her firm little fists tightly around his heart.

  More time with Belle was no hardship. Staying even another hour in the same house with East, on the other hand, was quite a different matter.

  “No problem. Tomorrow should be fine. I’ll watch for you.”

  “Janie, chase after your brother, would you?” Cisco had to hold his phone a little away from his ear as she raised her voice to be heard over whatever craziness was going on at her end. “Austin, get that out of your mouth. Right now, before you puke.”

  She finally turned back to their conversation. “Sorry about that. They’re a little tired of being cooped up in my parents’ tiny house.”

  “Are you sure you’ve got room for one more?”

  She paused just a moment, but it was enough to send ice cubes rattling around in his gut. “We’ll have to, won’t we?”

  If he hadn’t been trained to pick up on every subtle clue people might drop in conversation, he might have missed the slight hesitancy in her voice.

  Was she having second thoughts about taking the baby? He certainly hoped not. What the hell was he supposed to do if she changed her mind?

  He wasn’t going to give her a chance to do it over the phone. “We’ll watch for you tomorrow, then. Thanks for letting me know. See you later.”

  He wrapped up the call as quickly as halfway decent manners allowed, before she could back out.

  “Everything okay?” Easton asked after he hung up.

  He set the phone down on the table. “I hope so. Sharon Weaver sounds like a woman being pulled in too many directions.”

  “Taking on a child when you already have several of your own is bound to make any sane woman a little nervous.”

  He frowned at his closed cell phone, unable to shake his lingering unease at Sharon’s hesitant reaction. “Right. And her father just died, only a few months after her brother’s death. It has to be a lot to absorb all at once.”

  Easton nodded, sympathy for a woman she didn’t even known turning her eyes an even darker blue.

  “Looks like we’re stuck in Pine Gulch another day.” He paused. “You know, I’m sure Brant and Mimi wouldn’t care if I took Belle up to Western Sky until she gets here tomorrow.”

  Her hands stopped slicing a tomato for her own sandwich and she stared at him. “Why would you want to do that?”

  He could come up with a dozen reasons. The little dimple in her cheek he couldn’t stop staring at
. That luscious waterfall of blond hair he wanted surrounding him. The cinnamon taste of her mouth and the heady little sounds she made when he kissed her.

  The man who had just been kissing her in the garden.

  That was enough to start.

  “You’re obviously busy and we’re in the way,” he answered.

  “Oh, cut it out.” She set down the knife with a clatter. “You and Belle can stay here as long as you need. I’ve told you that.”

  “Even though you would rather we were on the other side of the county right now? And I imagine Chief Bowman would prefer me to stay in a different hemisphere.”

  “Trace is worried about me. That’s all.”

  Cisco raised an eyebrow. “What does he think will happen?”

  “Probably what already has,” she murmured.

  They gazed at each other for one long, charged moment and his mind flashed to the night before—of her soft, sweet response, of her curves pressing against him, of the heat churning through him like a forest fire flare-up and the erotic sound of his name of her lips.

  Before he could figure out how to answer, they both heard a plaintive cry over the intercom.

  “Saved by the Belle,” he muttered.

  “Very funny.” She made a face that reminded him forcefully of her mischievous younger self and how he used to adore making her laugh.

  He started to rise but Easton shook her head. “Stay here. I’ll get her.”

  He slid back into his seat and watched her go, wondering how he was going to keep his hands off her for one more day.

  Chapter Seven

  She was desperately grateful for any excuse to escape the simmering tension. Easton pressed a hand to her twirling stomach as she headed up the half-log stairs toward the fretting baby.

  Whatever appetite she might have worked up out in Jo’s garden had completely fled now. Drat the man. Why couldn’t they manage to spend five minutes together without all the subcurrents seething between them like the spring runoff running high and fast down Cold Creek?