by Heidi Hormel
“I’m going to—”
“Damn it, Rickie. Don’t sneak up on me.”
“I didn’t sneak. You were mooning over that bag of cereal. If you’re not going to eat it, give it here.” Her sister held out her hand.
What had she been doing with the bag? Imagining Spence eating his breakfast. Pathetic. “Enjoy. I’m going to have yogurt and a banana.”
“You couldn’t even say that without wrinkling your nose.”
“It’s healthy and usually stays down.”
“I can make you cinnamon toast.”
Olympia shook her head, then stopped, not wanting to invite dizziness. “Food is fuel. I’ve got to get the best fuel into me, like the doctor told me.”
“Right, guess that explains your animal-cracker-and-salsa diet.”
“That’s healthy.”
Rickie laughed, low and husky. The sound was so much a part of the younger woman that Olympia had to smile, too. “I think I’ll drive into Tucson and see if I can’t pick up some work,” Rickie said as she put her bowl in the sink. She held up her hand to stop Olympia’s protests. “I know it’s not long until I start school, but I want to get extra cash coming in. I don’t want to freeload.”
“I’m happy to have you here. You can help me in the barn. Or better yet, you can clean the house and cook?”
“With the baby and all, I know extra cash would be helpful.”
Olympia could see that her sister’s mind was made up. She might be generally easygoing, but once Rickie got an idea into her head, there was no way to blast it loose. “I should come with you. The horse boarding isn’t exactly paying the bills.”
“No way. I know Spence would kick me out if I let you go get a job.”
“He’s not my keeper.”
“Yes, but he’s your husband,” Rickie said firmly.
Olympia started. Hearing the word husband attached to Spence should make her want to scream, not get warm and mushy. “I’m still my own woman.”
“Talk to him about it when he gets back from Texas.”
“I don’t need to talk with him about it. I’d planned to find another job after our wedding, if I couldn’t scare up enough boarders.”
“That’s between the two of you, and he’ll be back in less than a week. Don’t get me in the middle of this.”
Olympia nodded, letting her sister think it was the threat of Spence’s displeasure, not her own queasiness and lack of energy that made getting a job feel impossible. Rickie surprised her with a quick, hard hug.
“Go back to bed until you don’t look like death warmed over. I’ll be back this afternoon, maybe sooner. Okay?”
“I’m fine.”
Rickie shook her head as she left. Olympia felt herself collapsing inward. She was so tired and so sick of being tired and sick. That should be a country-and-western song. She sucked in a deep breath and told herself she just had to see to the horses and then she’d take a nap.
* * *
DAMN IT, HER sleep-addled brain said at the sound of pounding. Muffin was using his large hooves to beat on his stall. He’d break the boards if he kept it up. Wait. She was in the house. That was the door. Why was Rickie knocking? Had she gotten locked out? Olympia moved before her brain caught up, pulling open the door to tell her sister off.
“You’re not Rickie,” Olympia said to the tall blond woman with striking looks, standing on the stoop.
“I’m Missy MacCormack. Who the hell are you?”
“Mommy,” a little boy’s voice piped up. “That lady’s shirt is unbuttoned.”
Chapter Seven
Olympia looked down to where a button had popped off—across her getting-bigger-by-the-second honkers. Damn. Darn. She wasn’t supposed to swear in front of the kid.
“Where’s Spence? I’ve got to speak with him,” the blonde said, her perfectly plucked brows drawn together.
“I’m sorry. He’s not here.” Olympia’s brain slowly perked up. This was the ex. Jeez. The woman was gorgeous, like, on-the-cover-of-Vogue beautiful.
“When will he be back?” she asked, clutching at the buttery leather handle of her handbag.
“Mommy, you said Daddy would be here. I want to see Daddy,” the little boy said from where he stood plastered against his mother. His pale face, surrounded by wisps of blond hair, reminded her of a tiny bunny peeking out from a nest. His nose even seemed to twitch.
“Spence is in Texas—”
“No,” the boy and woman wailed.
“You can call him if you need to speak with him. He might be in court, though.”
“You promised,” the boy said, his face reddening.
“I didn’t know. I’ll call him,” Missy said, pushing the clinging kid away.
As the woman dialed, the little boy tried to hide behind his mother without touching her. Poor little guy. Olympia had an idea of how scary it was to be dragged into a situation you didn’t understand, expecting bad and scary things to happen.
“Pick up, pick up, pick up,” Missy breathed into her bejeweled phone. “Payson, as soon as you get this, call me.”
Olympia crossed her arms over her chest where the button was missing, very aware of Missy’s scornful look.
“This is our son. Calvin.” Missy pushed the boy toward her. He kept his head down, his hair sticking out over his ears.
Olympia didn’t want to talk to the boy because she didn’t want to get involved in whatever this drama was. “Yes. I’ve seen pictures.”
“Spence really lives here?” Missy asked as she looked past Olympia and into the house.
“Crap. Sorry. You wanna come in?” She’d let the implied insult slide since the woman had been stuck standing outside.
“Just a second. Go on, Calvin. Go in. I’ll be right back.”
The boy hesitated for a second, then scurried into the house. Maybe more mouse than bunny, Olympia thought as she followed him. “Would you like something to drink?” she asked. He shook his head and stopped in the middle of the living room. The broken-down furniture looked worse than usual. “Take a seat,” she said. He sidled past her and sat on the edge of the couch. “I’ll be back in a minute.” She moved quickly down the hall to put on another shirt. She couldn’t stand around with her arms crossed.
As she changed, she tried to imagine what Missy could want. Spence and his ex didn’t talk, if what he said was true, and he didn’t see his son, except in closely supervised visits. “Calvin, you can turn on the TV if you want. I don’t know what’s—” Olympia stopped when she saw a suitcase and two duffel bags along with a neon-green backpack beside the little boy. His face was whiter than milk, and he looked as if he might throw up. She knew that expression well. “What’s this?” she asked gently, determined not to scare him even though her brain screamed no.
“My stuff.”
“Is there a reason your stuff is here?”
“Yes,” he whispered. She took a step closer, and he hugged himself. “Mommy brought it in. She says I have to stay here.”
The world went blindingly bright for Olympia as her anger surged. “Your mommy left you here?” She tried to keep her voice soft. She didn’t want to terrify the kid any more than he already was. She knew what it was like to be scared because the adults in your life were crazy. Apparently, Missy was certifiable. What mother ditched her kid at someone’s house? Well, to be fair, Missy thought of this as Spence’s house. But maybe she hadn’t left. He might have misunderstood.
Olympia raced to the door and looked out. Nothing. No vehicles, just a distant plume of dust from a car moving fast. She swallowed hard on the nausea that bubbled up. She had to get this settled. Call Spence. After all, this was his problem...his kid.
Back inside she said, “I’ll call your dad and see what he says. I bet there�
��s some kind of mix-up. You know, like your mom didn’t know he was away in Texas. And she’ll come back to get you.”
“She can’t,” he said so quietly that Olympia had a tough time hearing him.
“Why not?”
“She’s going to rehab. Grandpa Stu and Mimi are mad at her. They yelled, and she said that Daddy should take care of me.” His voice hiccuped on a sob.
Olympia wanted to reach out and hug him close, but she reminded herself she wasn’t that kind of woman. More important, Spence had agreed that she wouldn’t have to be his stepmother. He understood that she wasn’t the sort of cowgirl who should be looking after a little boy.
* * *
“WHAT ARE YOU going to do?” Rickie whispered to Olympia as the two of them got dinner ready.
“I called Spence and left a message. He’d better have an explanation. Calvin insists that his mom is in rehab, and he’s supposed to stay here.” Regardless of what Spence said, which better be that he was coming home pronto, Olympia needed to feed Calvin and figure out where he’d sleep. Her current room, she guessed, which meant she had to go back to the master bedroom—which was also a problem. She could handle having another round or two with Spence on the mattress, but she didn’t want the intimacy of sharing the space, dividing up the dresser and waking up each morning together. That would make her think all kinds of things that weren’t true. Like maybe they were a couple and maybe he was sticking around. None of that would happen. They had a prenup and knew this marriage was ending, sooner rather than later.
“Think how freaked out Calvin must be. I know Mama wasn’t much of a parent, but at least she didn’t abandon us at other people’s houses.”
That was about the only thing she hadn’t done. “Spence will need to come home and figure it out.”
“He’s your stepson. You’d eventually have had to deal with him anyway.”
“Not right now,” Olympia said, slamming her mouth closed on any more words. “This is as good as it’s getting.” She looked at the stack of sandwiches and the bowl of macaroni salad that Rickie had made with Spam and Velveeta. Comfort food, if Olympia could keep it down. “Go get the kid, and we’ll eat.” She pulled the phone from her pocket again to check. Nothing from Spence. What the hell...heck. Dam...darn it. Now she had to really watch her language.
“I told Calvin we made our favorite dinner,” Rickie said as she herded the little boy to the table. His shoulders were somewhere around his ears. He refused to look anywhere but at the floor. “I also told him that we had root beer to drink, and we could pretend that we were cowboys drinking sarsaparilla.”
Calvin shrugged and slunk onto a seat.
Olympia refused to be upset by his mouse-scared movements, which echoed the fears and worries she’d had as a child. “If you don’t want root beer, there’s milk, iced tea or orange soda.”
“I’m not hungry,” he whispered.
“You can eat a little of something,” Rickie urged, glaring at Olympia, who stood by the table, wanting to keep physical distance between her and the boy. “The salad is the best. We make it only on special occasions. So you being here must be a special occasion.”
Calvin didn’t lift his head. The defeat in his posture made Olympia’s conscience hurt. But she couldn’t get sucked into caring about him—or Spence and the baby. Her path was clear.
“What’s in it?” the boy mumbled.
“There are secret ingredients,” Rickie went on. When had her sister, the youngest, gotten so good with kids? “But it might be awesome macaroni, barrel cactus and a sprinkling of jackrabbit.”
The boy’s head came up and his blue eyes—the same dusty color as his father’s—were wide. “No way.”
“Might be. I’m keeping the ingredients secret and those might or might not be what’s in it. Give it a taste and tell me.”
“I’m a genius, you know. I can figure out when people are fibbing.”
“So? I’m going to college, and I know how to make the best macaroni salad in Arizona.” Rickie took a big bite and hummed in pleasure. “Best, as always.” She looked up at her sister and motioned with her head for her to sit.
Olympia couldn’t move. She couldn’t be part of this. She didn’t want Calvin to get the idea that he was staying or that Olympia was anything like a stepmom. “Um, I’ve... I... There. Don’t you hear that? It’s Muffin. He needs me to, um, check on him.” She moved to the patio slider to escape from the kitchen to the barn or maybe take the car and race away.
“If you say so, Limpy, but come right back and have supper because—”
“Sure,” she said and was outside, gulping in the hot, dry air. She didn’t stop until she was in the barn, the cool darkness giving her a chance to assure herself that she really could finish out this marriage, hand over the baby and then go be in the rodeo. That was her route to happiness; nothing would move her from it, not Calvin and certainly not Spence. And definitely not the peanut of a baby.
Since she was in the barn anyway, she may as well check on the animals. She was a cowgirl, and that was what a cowgirl did.
* * *
HOURS LATER IN the dark bedroom that had become Spence’s and was now hers again, Olympia lay awake, waiting for his call and hoping her danged husband had an easy solution for getting his son out of the house quickly. Rickie couldn’t help because she believed it was a real marriage. She said she’d cut Olympia some slack about hiding in the barn since she was pregnant—which they weren’t telling Calvin. Then Rickie had gone out to meet friends for a fun night out. Something that had never been on Olympia’s to-do list because she was saving money or watching her siblings. How had she gone from being an independent, nearly-to-the-rodeo woman back to taking care of her sister and a kid? That one night with Spence. She was going to be paying for that for a long time.
Her phone rang. She hesitated, feeling vulnerable and slightly weepy here in the dark—not the way she wanted to confront attorney Spencer MacCormack, aka Liar, Liar Pants on Fire. She picked up the phone anyway, sitting up in bed and turning on the light. “Finally,” she said.
“Hello to you, too. I’ve been busting my butt here. I couldn’t call earlier. They’re not paying me to check in with my wife.”
“I would have sent you a text, but that didn’t seem right—”
“What’s happened? Are you at the hospital?”
His tone was sharp, reminding her that he cared about her only as the incubator for his baby and maybe as the wild cowgirl in his bed. “No. This is your mess and it’s lucky the doctor has me on those antinausea pills, otherwise today would have turned my stomach inside out. Missy stopped by—”
“I saw that she called—”
“Stop interrupting and I’ll tell you.” She waited a moment and then went on, “Missy stopped by today and dropped off Calvin. Actually, she just left him—”
“Calvin is at the ranch? Did she not understand her parents’ visitation schedule?”
“She’s going to rehab and wants you to take care of Calvin. I found paperwork in his backpack. Apparently, it was a condition she set for returning to rehab.”
“I... What...? Calvin’s at the house right now?”
“He’s asleep.”
“What else did Missy say?”
“Nothing. I left the room for a couple of minutes. When I came back, there was a pile of Calvin’s stuff and Missy was gone.”
“Damn it. Why? I can’t—”
“You’ve got to come home. You promised that I wouldn’t have to—”
“Hell. I can’t leave. If I leave, I’ll lose my job. Then, where will we all be? I should be done in three days, maybe four. I’ll try Jessie, see if she can come down and help. Calvin knows her, but she’s so busy.”
Olympia knew he was right about work. And Jessie was up to her eyeballs ri
ght now. She’d taken on setting up another program in California, commuting a couple times a week. Damn...darn! “This is an emergency. There have to be rules about emergencies.”
“It would be an emergency if my wife wasn’t at home to look after my son.”
Crap. “I could call her parents to come and get him.”
“If you do, what will they think? That you don’t want Calvin, which will make my petition seem odd, since my ‘loving wife’ doesn’t want anything to do with her stepson.”
“Well, your ‘loving wife’ doesn’t. You said Calvin would never be here, that I would need to be a stepmom in name only.” She felt tears of frustration gathering. Da...darn these hormones. She would not cry.
“Look. I can’t leave. I might be able to swing a day early, but that’s still at least two more days.” She heard him draw in a deep breath. “Please. He’s just a little boy. He didn’t ask for any of this. I know that you can do it. You raised your sisters—”
“Which is exactly why I didn’t want Calvin here,” she said, her voice rising. Get a grip, she told herself firmly. “Don’t you know anyone else?”
“Olympia, if you don’t do this for me, then I’ll consider you in breach of our prenup and subsequent contract, which will forfeit any moneys promised to you. I may even have a case for a suit, and I know a good lawyer.” His voice had steel and maybe a hint of desperation.
“What the hell? You wouldn’t... You couldn’t... You...” She sputtered to a halt, stiffening her spine and clutching at the phone. “That’s blackmail.”
“No, it’s a good agreement, which I’ll remind you again that I told you to have your own attorney look at.”
“Shut up, you stupid ass,” Olympia yelled into the phone. She could not be responsible for his son. It would be too easy to—
“You said a bad word,” Calvin accused, peering through the door.
