His Heart for the Trusting (Book 2 - Texas Hearts (Contemporary Western Romance)

by Mondello, Lisa

  Jonathan was impossibly lost in his arms. Mitch had helped birth many a farm animal, but he'd never held something so small and wondrously perplexing in his life. How could this tiny creature have come from him? It just didn't make any sense.

  A lump lodged in his throat and seemed impossibly hard to swallow. “He does kinda look like me, doesn't he?”

  Sara offered him a lopsided smile. “Dead ringer.”

  She laughed softly, and Mitch's head started spinning. There was something acutely appealing about a woman who could read a man's mind the way Sara was reading him right now. It made him want to scoop her up into his arms and hold her, make the connection between them physical, real. This heady emotional zing was too much.

  There was this...air between them, sizzling with an electric current that could burn the room down to ash. And she was looking up at him with light dancing in her rich brown eyes. All Mitch could think about was kissing her.

  Jonathan stirred in his arms, kicking and adjusting himself in his sleep and the connection was severed.

  “You're going to need to get a bed for him,” Sara said as she lightly stroked the almost-not-there hair on the baby's head.

  Mitch swallowed hard. “Mandy had a cradle readied at the house for her baby. Beau started building it the moment he learned she was pregnant. He brought it in to use tonight.”

  “Jonathan won't be in a cradle for too long. Babies grow quickly. Besides, Mandy is going to need it soon anyway.”

  “I'll build him a crib.”

  He didn't know why, but this moment felt strangely familiar, as if he'd been away on a journey and had just returned home after a long time. But that was ridiculous. Any familiarity he had with Sara had to be conjured up from memories of when he'd come to The Double T, before she'd run away.

  He watched from the other side of the dark room as Sara put Jonathan in his cradle and rocked him. She softly sang a tune that was foreign to him; in a tongue he'd only heard when he was among the Apache people.

  He'd attended countless rodeos with his grandfather, but only one on the reservation a few years back when Beau was still riding bronc. Other than that, and the bits he'd learned from knowing Alice these last ten years, he knew nothing of the Apache culture.

  There was something earthy and pure about Sara, singing in her native tongue, caring for his son.

  His son.

  He was going to have to get use to that…fast.

  #

  Chapter Three

  It had been almost two weeks since Jonathan had arrived in his life and Sara had moved into his home. Mitch tried to hold onto the belief that this was in fact his son, but somehow, he just couldn't feel it. After a day of vaccines and veterinarian visits for the new horses he'd bought at auction, he was tired and looking forward to nothing more than going back to the quiet house he'd started renovating four months ago.

  Proposing that he take the wild horses he bought at auction, gentling some for use on the ranch, and some for Beau and Hank's new rodeo school, had changed Mitch from a ranch hand to a partner at the Double T. Not only did he have a stake in the ranch now, he'd moved out of the bunkhouse he'd lived in with the other hands, and moved into the old foreman's house that was in need of repair. Mitch didn't care though. He had his dreams, and being able to pocket the money from the sale of horses the Double T passed on made it possible for Mitch to be able to buy his own spread sooner. That was his real dream.

  Since Beau and Mandy had passed on Hank's offer to give them the foreman's house, instead opting to build their own home deeper into the ranch by the old creek, the house became his. He never minded the work of gutting it, hammering in new wallboard, room by room, because it was now his home. At the end of a hard day, he went back to the solitude of stripping walls and pulling out whatever unsalvageable wood and trim that remained.

  But his home wasn't the same as it was four months ago. In fact, it was a far cry from anything he'd imagined. Things had changed. Drastically. Everything now revolved around a little boy who, at the moment, was as scared and disjointed as he felt.

  Now, instead of being able to work at his leisure, Mitch couldn't run power tools in the house if the baby was sleeping. And Sara seemed to bring color and life to his sparse decor with odds and ends she'd brought back with her from Los Angeles.

  “A child's mind is stimulated by color and music,” she'd said when she asked if she could put up a few things to give the place some interest.

  Mitch had to admit the house did look more inviting, not to mention lived in. Since he'd always taken his meals with the rest of the hands at the main house, he didn't feel the need to fill his cabinets with too many dishes or glassware. Now his kitchen was filled to overflowing with breakables; crystal, fancy china and vases. Who would have thought?

  He heard Sara singing softly when he walked through the door. She immediately stopped as soon as she saw him.

  “Did you already have something to eat?” Mitch asked.

  “No, I was waiting for you. Jonathan kept me busy and I wasn't able to get started until a little while ago.”

  He peered down at the dinner already placed on the table in the middle of two place settings. “You made this for me?”

  “It's going to be a few more months before Jonathan can eat steak and potatoes.”

  The table was set with white linen, and napkins that had a sewn on design, and silverware that he knew hadn't come from his kitchen.

  “These are different. Are they new?” he asked, picking up one of the napkins.

  “No. More boxes arrived from California today.”

  “More?”

  She chuckled at what must have been a funny expression he'd made. “This is the last of it. I promise you. Are you sure you don't mind me putting these things out? You didn't have a table cloth and—”

  “No, it looks nice.”

  She smiled her pleasure and something warm and wonderful spread through him. Was it always going to be like this? Sure, he found Sara attractive. Okay, in a big way he was attracted to the woman. He could admit it. But his palms didn't have to get all sweaty just because she was in the room. He didn't have to go dizzy just seeing her face light up with a smile.

  “It was fun opening the boxes, and taking out the china and fine linens. It made things seem real, you know? Like, 'I'm no longer in Los Angeles, I'm home.' Feels kind of good.”

  “I guess that would bring it home, wouldn't it,” he said lamely.

  Miss Hollywood. That's what she was. She may have grown up on a reservation, but Sara had changed into a different woman than most of the girls he knew around these parts. A certain glamour about her was strikingly her. She appreciated the kind of fine things that only money could buy.

  Yeah, he liked nice things too, but that could come later when he got his business breeding and training horses up and running. He didn't care much about the frilly things most women enjoyed. He just liked the women in general. But since Jonathan's arrival, there hadn't been much opportunity to enjoy anyone but the woman with him right now. Somehow, that suited him just fine.

  He took the time to wash up before they both sat down to eat. The meal of steak and potatoes was a welcome sight and had his stomach making all kinds of noises as he breathed in the inviting smell. The first night Sara had cooked dinner, she'd made some fancy dish with squid that had a name Mitch still couldn't get right, and an appetizer with uncooked fish. He was hungry and it tasted good enough, but he could tell she knew it wasn't his thing.

  Tonight she'd grilled a steak and prepared mashed potatoes; a hardy meal. After that first night, he wasn't quite sure what to expect from someone who ate raw fish on a regular basis, but steak and potatoes tasted like it always did.

  Things were getting back to normal again.

  The conversation during dinner was mostly small talk about her plans to open a preschool on the reservation and bring back the stories of her Apache culture. Mitch talked of his experience gentling horses and changes
in the ranch over the past year.

  After dinner, when all he wanted to do was head out into the workshop to finish up Jonathan's crib, Sara instead shooed him out of the kitchen to take a shower and change so he could give Jonathan his nightly bottle-feeding. Mitch knew what she was doing, forcing this quality time thing. Bonding is what she'd called it.

  Hell, that was fine. Jonathan was his son after all. But Mitch couldn't help his feelings no matter how many bottles of formula he fed the baby. To Mitch, Jonathan still seemed so foreign. Still so strange, it scared him.

  When he'd finished giving Jonathan his nightly bottle, and the baby was deep into a formula-induced sleep, Mitch set him in the cradle in Sara's room, paying particular care that Jonathan was propped up on his side as Sara instructed. Then he went down stairs intending to go to the workshop, but found his way into the kitchen. He found Sara there, seated at the table with a pile of baby clothes covering it.

  “You're getting better at it,” Sara said, not looking up at him when he walked in.

  He took a moment to look at her. Really look at her. Her hair was pulled back in some sort of a wide white headband that made a striking contrast to her almost black hair and the gold hoop earrings she wore. The silk blouse and flowing slacks billowed, hiding the slender curves he knew were there. On her feet, she wore a pair of gold sandals.

  For the first time, he realized he had never seen Sara in a pair of blue jeans. He was going to have to buy her a pair of cowboy boots just to keep her from killing herself walking around the ranch in those sandals.

  “How can you tell?” he finally asked.

  “You didn't call me once to come rescue you.” She lifted her face to him then and he saw the slight tilt in her full lips. His head went into a cataclysmic spin and his heart hammered. How could one woman affect him so strongly?

  “Maybe he's getting used to me.”

  “He's not the only one.”

  Mitch couldn't help but smile. He liked that about Sara. He never wondered what she was thinking. She'd let you know in her subtle way. It was a far cry from all the secrets Lillian had kept from him.

  “What are you doing?” he asked as he opened the refrigerator and pulled out a pitcher of orange juice.

  She kept her concentration on the clothes, cocking her head to one side as she placed one outfit on top of another, then discarding one only to do it all again with another outfit. When she decided on a piece, she started cutting it into a square.

  “Jonathan doesn't fit in this outfit anymore.”

  “Already?” He'd practically croaked out the word. “They haven't even been washed once.”

  She chuckled. “Twice actually. Babies grow fast at this age. I could change his outfit every time I change his diaper just to get some wear out of his clothes and he’d still outgrown them before they wear out.”

  “So what are you doing with them?”

  “I thought I'd start a quilt. I can cut squares out of the clothes that don't fit him anymore. It won't be long before I have enough fabric to finish it. Years from now you'll be able to look back on this quilt and picture him as he is now, so tiny and innocent. It'll help you keep your sanity when he's bent on destroying the place and getting into trouble like most young cowboys.”

  Mitch hooked his thumbs in the front pocket of his jeans and leaned against the counter. “Not my boy,” he said, a bit of pride making him grin.

  “Yeah, right.”

  Miss Hollywood.

  “What did you say?”

  Sara was looking at him directly now, having abandoned the swatches of fabric she'd been intent on cutting and arranging when he walked into the room. Mitch hadn't realized he'd said the words aloud until Sara lifted her wide brown eyes at him, casting him a cautious, quizzical look.

  “You're not like the girls I've know from around here. You dress like a model out of some glamour magazine.”

  “Really? I hadn't seen any of those magazines lying around the house,” she said dryly.

  “All I need is eyes. And I have two very healthy ones.”

  “I'm sure.”

  “You're sitting there all fancy while you're cutting squares for a quilt. It's quite a contrast.”

  He'd upset her. That much was evident by the sudden tightness in her voice and the stiffness in her movement.

  “Clothes are just the outer shell. There's much more to me.”

  “I'm sure there is. That's something I'd like to discover.”

  “That's not likely to happen.”

  He shook his head at his stupidity. “I offended you and I didn't mean to. I'm sorry about that. I just...hadn't pictured having a woman as beautiful as you in my home making a baby blanket for my kid.”

  “Backpedaling won't help.”

  “How about this, Sara? I find you very intriguing and I'd like to get to know you better.”

  She sighed, her eyes drifting back to the squares in her lap. “That's something you'll have to do without, Mr. Broader.”

  He quirked an eyebrow and straddled the chair next to where she sat at the table. “Now who's backpedaling? 'Mr. Broader' is awfully formal.”

  “You're my employer.”

  He chuckled. “Since when? You've been speaking your mind with me ever since you stepped foot on this ranch. Why put up a wall of etiquette now?”

  She was silent for a few seconds. When she spoke, her voice was very quiet.

  “It's easier that way.”

  “In some ways, maybe. When two people are strangers.”

  “We're strangers.”

  She looked at him then and he saw a glimpse of the fire in her he'd come to enjoy. He couldn’t help but laugh.

  “Not anymore. Everywhere I look I see you in this house. I've come to rely on you being here.” More than he'd ever relied on anyone, he realized.

  Sara lifted her chin just a bit. “Living under the same roof doesn't mean we know the intimate details of each other's life. We hardly know each other at all.”

  He nodded his agreement. Sara was quiet when she spoke. But her words were always deliberate. Like nothing could ever really ruffle her feathers. He had the delicious feeling he'd like to do a little ruffling with her, just to see a little spark ignite, to see those dark brown eyes flash with some fire. But he suspected that was a rarity with a woman like her.

  He quickly got up from the table to the sound of the whistle from the kettle. He grabbed it off the burner to quiet it before it woke Jonathan. The baby would be waking soon enough without helping things along with extra noise. Besides, Mitch was enjoying the quiet conversation.

  Sara had set two mugs with tea bags on the counter before setting the kettle to boil. Mitch didn't drink tea, but to him it was an invitation. And he was going to accept it rather than put his foot in his mouth again. They'd spent nearly two weeks together in his house and knew as much about each other as the day she'd arrived.

  He poured the cups of tea, dropped two spoons into the mugs and carried them over to the table.

  “So why did you come back?”

  Her expression pinched into a frown. “Out of everything you could ask about me, that is what you want to know?”

  Mitch shrugged. “It's a place to start. I figure I have a good idea about why you left.”

  “You do?”

  “Sure. I may not have known you from talking to you, but I've been here over ten years. I've known your mom the whole time.”

  “And mother's talk,” she said with a soft groan.

  “Did you think it was a secret?”

  “I guess not.”

  “You don't have to tell me anything you don't want.”

  “I don't really like to talk about myself all that much.” Sara carefully folded the pieces of fabric she'd just cut and placed them in a basket on the table. She stared down at her tea and bobbed the tea bag up and down in silence.

  “Lillian wanted something you weren't prepared to give?”

  “How did this all of the sudden turn to L
illian?”

  Sara eyed him wryly. “You didn't think you'd be the only one doing the discovering, did you?”

  “Touché.”

  “It's natural for me to want to know about Jonathan's mother. When I look at him, all I can think about was how hard it must have been for her to leave him here. I can’t imagine what she must be thinking right now without him.”

  “You don't know Lillian. I'm surprised she even chose to have Jonathan.”

  Sara snapped her head toward him in surprise. “And that would have been easier on you, right?”

  Mitch sighed. “That's not what I meant. I'm not doing very well at all explaining myself tonight. All I meant is that I know Lillian. I can't see her saddling herself with a kid. It doesn't really surprise me that she chose to leave him with me. And I keep thinking of what he'll feel about all this when he grows up wondering why she left him. I mean, what do I say?”

  “You tell him the truth.”

  Mitch took a sip of the tea and grimaced at the bitter flavor. “The truth isn't pretty.”

  “Do you even know the truth?”

  As he reached for the sugar bowl on the table and started spooning sugar into his cup, he said, “I know enough.”

  Sara chuckled softly. “Mitch Broader, you're so all-fired sure of yourself.”

  “No, I'm not. You've seen firsthand how very unsure I am with Jonathan. I don't know how people have kids without feeling like complete imbeciles. How do these kids ever survive to adulthood with parents like me who don't have a clue? I mean, you need a license to drive a car, but you can have a kid without any instruction at all. All kids should come with manuals.”

  “No one is born a parent. It's a learning process.” She gave him a crooked smile before sipping her tea. Then she said, “It's nice to hear you talking about him like that.”

  “Like what?”

  “Your son. You're his father. You've accepted it. I thought that wall you had up was going to stay there forever.”

  Mitch shrugged. What could he say? “It's not like I have a choice. He looks just like me.”