by Diana Palmer
Sierra hesitated before opening the lid. While she appreciated the gesture, a hat was a very personal item. She wasn’t sure what he would have bought, or if she would like it. If she didn’t, she would have to act polite. If she did, well, she didn’t want to think about that. A good hat lasted for years. Could she wear one Dylan had bought her without being forced to think about him? Would the hat make a difference? Now that he’d reentered her world, she doubted she was going to be able to find a way to forget him.
She pulled off the top and drew out a black hat. A simple leather braid encircled the crown. She fingered the thick felt and she turned it over in her hands. The shape was familiar.
She looked at him. “This is just like my old hat.”
“I know. When I went to the shop, Harvey told me he’d shaped your last one, so I asked him to make this one just the same. You always were real particular about your hats.”
She wasn’t sure which touched her more. That he’d gone to all the trouble to have this done, or that he remembered something so insignificant about her. Maybe both.
“I don’t know what to say,” she murmured and set the hat on her head. It was a little new and stiff, but it still felt right. “You shouldn’t have.”
“You saved my son,” he reminded her. “Besides, I wanted to give you something you would like.”
“I do like it. Thank you.”
Rory waved a hand. “Dad gave you the hat. Isn’t it cool? I helped him pick it out.”
“Thanks. I love it.”
Rory beamed.
“He likes you,” Dylan said and leaned against the railing.
Sierra set the box on the ground outside the fence and leaned against the wooden structure, careful to stay far enough from Dylan so they didn’t accidentally touch. She might be able to speak with him about incidental things, but she wasn’t ready to physically go another round with him. Their hot, passionate kisses had left her weak and hungry for him. She didn’t have to be told twice that it was better for both of them if she kept her distance.
“I like him,” she said. “He’s very good-natured.” Something he got from his father, she thought grimly, remembering Claire as being very demanding and not a pleasant person.
“He’s lonely for female attention. I try to do the best I can, but I’m not enough to keep him from missing his mother.” Dylan grimaced. “Not that Claire was much of a parent.”
“What do you mean?”
“Let’s just say she had more important things to do than worry about Rory.”
Sierra swallowed a sigh of regret. She didn’t think she was going to ever have the chance to settle down and start a family of her own. So far she’d failed miserably at the game of love. She wasn’t sure she had what it took to be a good mother, but she would very much like to have tried. Maybe with a strong man at her side she would have found the courage and the wisdom to do it right.
“Is that why you have custody?” she asked.
“Yes. It wasn’t a battle. When she walked out, she left him behind.”
Sierra looked at the child riding Chet. The boy sat tall and proud, his freckled face glowing with happiness. She wanted to gather him close and hug him until he squirmed to be released. The intensity of her feelings surprised her. How could anyone have walked away from Rory?
“How often does she see him?”
“She doesn’t.” There was no mistaking the bitterness in his voice. “It’s been nearly a year and she’s flown in twice. The last time was six months ago.”
“You’ve been divorced for a year?” she asked, surprised it had been that long.
“We’ve been living apart that long. The divorce has been final a couple of months. If you’re asking why I waited this long to come back, it’s because I wanted to be sure I was free of her.”
“I didn’t ask.”
“Then I’m telling you.”
“I see.” It took every ounce of willpower to keep her gaze fixed firmly on Rory. From the corner of her eye she saw movement, but she didn’t dare look. She didn’t want to know what Dylan was doing, or what he was thinking. It was too scary. She refused to believe he’d come back for her. That she still mattered to him. She wasn’t going to get her heart broken a second time.
Overhead, puffy clouds chased each other across a brilliant blue sky. She inhaled the scent of grass and blooming flowers, and a darker, spice fragrance that was unique to the man standing next to her.
“Have you talked to Kirk?” he asked.
His question pricked her, causing her good mood to drain away like air out of a balloon. “There’s nothing to ask him.”
“You don’t believe I sent you letters.” He didn’t ask a question.
“I don’t think my brother kept anything from me.”
“So I’m lying.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to. Damn it, Sierra, why would I lie about that? Just ask him.”
She found herself turning toward him. Anger danced in his eyes. He glared at her. “It’s important.”
“For who?” she asked. “It was a long time ago.”
“It matters to both of us. We still care about each other.”
“Speak for yourself.”
“Deny it all you want, but I was there when you kissed me back the other day. You wanted me just as much as I wanted you. Nothing has changed.”
Frustration bubbled inside of her. It had always been like this with him. He had the ability to make her feel, to want. It wasn’t fair. She liked having her life simple. So what if there was no intense pleasure? There was no soul-destroying pain, either.
“Everything has changed,” she told him. “We’re two different people. I don’t want to go back to what we were.”
“I don’t, either. I want to go forward. But you won’t let me do that because of the past. Don’t turn your back on this. Please. Once we were wonderful together. We can be again. Do you want to spend the rest of your life wondering what it would have been like if only you weren’t too stubborn to give me a second chance?”
He made it sound so easy. As if all she had to do was say yes. In truth, she wondered about the letters. Dylan sounded so confident about their existence. Had he really sent them and had her brother kept them from her? At the time, she’d been in so much pain. He might have thought it was an act of kindness. It would be easy enough to ask. But if the letters existed, she wasn’t sure she was strong enough to read them.
“Dylan, I—”
He held up his hand to stop her. “Don’t say anything yet. Rory’s tenth birthday is next week. We’d both like you to come.”
She blinked at the change in topic. “Um, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“He really likes you and it would mean a lot to him.” Dylan smiled bitterly. “To be honest, I want you to be there so he has something to distract him.”
“From what?”
“From the fact that Claire isn’t going to bother to attend. She’s in Paris with her new husband. I’ve been trying to get a message to her so she’ll remember to at least call him, but I’m not sure it’s going to happen.”
She sucked in a breath. No matter what else had occurred, at least she and Kirk had had loving parents to support them. “Is this his first birthday since you two split up?”
“Yeah. He seems okay most of the time, but I know he’s hurting. I want the day to be special for him.”
Sierra saw Rory wave at her. She waved back. The world could be a cruel place. It was tough enough to handle as a grown-up. What chance did a child have?
“I’ll be there.”
“Thanks.” He cleared his throat. “There’s something else.”
She raised her eyebrows.
“I’ve, ah, planned a party so he could invite a few boys his own age. Sort of give him a chance to get to know the other kids.”
“I see. How many boys?”
“Ten.”
“Eleven ten-year-olds. You’re goi
ng to have your hands full.”
He shrugged. “I can handle it. But I thought maybe you could come a little early and help me set up.”
Sierra figured she should have been annoyed but all she could do was smile. “You’re hustling me, McLaine. You just want help with this party.”
“I’m willing to admit that.”
He reached out and touched her hand. She felt the heat of his fingers and her body instantly sparked to life.
“I’d be really grateful,” he told her. “I’ll even let you have a corner piece of birthday cake, so you can have extra icing.”
She’d always had a weakness for icing. And for this man. She was setting herself up for heartbreak. She knew it. Yet as long as he touched her, she could deny him nothing.
“I’ll be there,” she said.
Chapter Six
They were a little louder than she’d expected, but other than that, eleven ten-year-old boys weren’t any more trouble than a corral filled with eleven calves. Sierra watched as the commando game progressed. The boys had divided into two teams and were busy hunting each other through the large three-story house. Two boys raced down the stairs and skittered to a stop in the foyer.
“Did you see two enemies heading this way?” a blond kid asked seriously. “We heard ’em from upstairs.”
Sierra raised her hands in the air. “In this matter, I’m as neutral as Switzerland.”
The boys looked momentarily confused, then shrugged and raced off toward the dining room.
“Don’t even think about going in there,” she called in a firm voice. “It’s set up for cake and ice cream. If you bump the table I’m going to have to make sure you never reach your eleventh birthday.”
They slid to a halt and looked back at her. She gave them her best “freeze in your tracks, sucker” look and pointed toward the living room. “Hunt in there.”
Without saying a word, they did as she told them.
“Not bad,” Dylan said, coming out of the kitchen and nodding approvingly. “Simple, direct and effective. You’re a natural.”
His compliment made her worry about blushing, which, recently, she seemed to be doing a lot. “They’re not so bad once you get used to them. I’m trying to think of them as two-legged cattle and act accordingly.”
“It’s working.”
He gave her one of his best smiles. She hated when he did that. Bad enough he looked gorgeous in jeans and a white long-sleeved shirt rolled up to the elbows. Dark hair tumbled across his forehead. He was a cliché—tall, dark and dangerous. The long talk she’d had with her body, not to mention her hormones, hadn’t helped. One smile and her knees shook like a straw house in a stiff breeze.
More boys clattered down the stairs. Without saying anything, Sierra pointed to the living room. There were loud shrieks as the newcomers rounded the threshold. Something heavy crashed into a wall. Dylan didn’t even flinch.
“I took out everything breakable this morning,” he said. “I’m going to tear off the wallpaper anyway, so a few dents don’t matter.”
She remembered the perfectly decorated house he’d grown up in. All the heavy fabrics and expensive antiques had made her nervous. She’d always worried about accidentally breaking something. “Your mother would not approve.”
“Tell me about it. Fortunately my mother couldn’t make it today.”
Rory led the last band of hunters or soldiers or whatever they were down the stairs. They didn’t need directions; the noise from the living room led them toward the battle in progress.
“Why don’t you make sure no one kills anyone while I see to the cake,” Dylan said.
Sierra raised her eyebrows. “Aren’t you domestic?”
“I’m showing you my feminine side. Isn’t that what men are supposed to do these days?”
His voice was teasing, but something serious lurked in his eyes. Something that made her want to think about his request for a second chance. Could there be one for them? Could she take that kind of risk? What if he walked out on her again? This time she didn’t think she would be able to survive.
But the thought tempted her. As she moved toward the living room, she wondered what it would be like to be a part of something, instead of just another hired hand. To have roots instead of the ability to pack up and be on the road in less than an hour.
The battle had ended by the time she arrived. The boys had flopped down over the worn hunter-green sofas, the gold recliner and on the floor. She and Dylan had decorated the room with balloons bouncing off the ceiling and streamers twisting along the walls. A table in the corner held a pile of presents. Sierra’s was tucked under the table. A worn leather saddle that should fit Rory better than the one he was currently using. It wasn’t new. The leather was scarred and shaped by many years of riding, but it was reliable. Sierra and her brother had both learned to ride in that saddle and she thought Rory might appreciate that fact more than something impersonal from a store.
“Who won?” she asked as she entered the room.
Rory looked up and grinned. “It was a tie. Do we eat cake soon?”
“In a couple of minutes.”
One of the boys, one with bright red hair, eyed her. “Are you Rory’s mom?”
“No, I’m a friend of his.”
“Sierra works on a ranch,” Rory said proudly.
A couple of the boys rolled their eyes. “So what?” one of them asked. “My big brother works on a ranch and my uncle owns one.”
Rory’s face fell slightly. He glanced at Sierra as if asking for her help. Several unfamiliar emotions filled her chest. The boy was proud of her and trying to show off. Unfortunately in this part of Montana, people working on ranches, even women working on ranches, wasn’t that unusual. Although the women still had to prove themselves.
If it hadn’t been his birthday, she probably wouldn’t have shared the information. After all, it had been a long time and she was rusty. Besides, it was kind of embarrassing. But this was Rory’s day and she wanted to make it special for him.
“I, ah, can do a couple of rope tricks,” she said before she could stop herself.
Eleven pairs of eyes focused on her.
“Really?” Rory breathed.
Too late for second thoughts, she told herself. “Uh-huh.”
“Can we see some?”
It was her own fault for volunteering the information, she reminded herself.
“Sure. I should have a rope in my truck. Be right back.”
She returned to the living room. Within a couple of minutes, she had the stiff cord spinning neatly. She stepped in and out of the turning coil, then raised and lowered it over Rory. The other boys lined up to have her do the same with them.
She found herself laughing with them as she tried to show them how to manipulate the rope. “It’s a smaller movement than that,” she said, when one of the boys sent the rope dancing across the floor.
“Aren’t you full of surprises?”
Sierra turned toward the voice and saw Dylan standing in the doorway, grinning at her.
“What other secret talents do you possess?” he asked. Before she could answer, he motioned to the corner. “I think we’re ready for the presents.”
“All right!” Eleven boys cheered.
Sierra collected her rope. As she walked past him, he reached out and touched her arm. “I’m serious,” he told her. “I am impressed with your roping skill. Now I’m curious about other secrets that might be even more intriguing.”
She bit her lip, not sure how to take his teasing. And he was teasing, she told herself. Despite the fire lurking in his eyes. Oh, but she wanted to believe it was more.
“I love it,” Rory said, fingering the supple leather of the saddle, then racing over and throwing his arms around Sierra.
She hugged him back. “I hope so. Kirk and I learned to ride on that saddle. I wasn’t sure if you would like it or if I should pick up something from the toy store.”
“No. This is the best
.”
He didn’t let her go for several seconds. His body was small and warm. Sturdy on the outside, but she knew his heart was tender. She felt an odd hollowness inside as she realized how much of her adult life she’d spent alone. The fact that it had been by choice didn’t help. All her love had had nowhere to go…no one to care about. In that moment, she ached to love a child. One of her own—or even this child.
It’s not possible, she told herself firmly as Rory stepped back. Whatever was happening between Dylan and herself wasn’t real. It wasn’t about anything except wayward hormones and a few good memories from the past. Second chances and falling in love again were foolish dreams. She knew better.
Make that her head knew better, but her heart wasn’t sure it wanted to listen to reason.
“Dad, did you see this?” Rory asked, his voice excited. He stroked the leather saddle again. “Isn’t it cool?”
Dylan turned his smoldering gaze on her. “Very cool. And very thoughtful. Thanks, Sierra. I know Rory is really going to enjoy your gift.”
She felt as if there was more than one meaning in his words. Or was that wishful thinking?
One of the boys called Rory’s name and the moment was broken. The child turned away. Sierra stared after him wondering about possibilities. She’d always thought she didn’t have what it took to be a good mother, but maybe she was wrong. Claire hadn’t even bothered to call to wish her son a happy birthday. With the time difference between Montana and Europe, it was unlikely she was going to get to it at all today. Sierra figured she might not be the most maternal woman on the planet, but she would be able to do a whole lot better job than Claire. At least she knew how to love and give of herself.
“You guys ready for some cake?” Dylan asked.
There was a chorus of “Yes!”
He motioned for Sierra to lead the way into the dining room. She did, then made sure everyone was seated. Dylan brought in the huge store-bought cake. Ten fat candles sat in the center, flanked by small plastic plants meant to represent the jungle with miniature action figures acting out a fight sequence from a popular afternoon television cartoon.
