by Joanna Wayne
She hummed as she spread a glob of chocolate frosting over the top of her freshly baked cake. If Orson had moved on, that meant she was out of danger.
Which also meant she had no real reason to stay on at the ranch. So why wasn’t she excited at the prospect of going back to Dallas?
She smoothed more frosting around the sides of the three layers. The cake looked good. The test would be in the tasting. It was the first time she’d ever made a cake from scratch. The recipe had come from the internet. She wasn’t about to admit to Collette that her culinary talents were pretty much nonexistent.
Her repertoire consisted of grilled chicken or fish, a baked potato, salad and of course the perennial peanut butter and jelly sandwich. And an occasional pizza delivery.
Sean and Dylan on the other hand, were beef men. Ranching gave a cowboy an appetite, Dylan had claimed last night, when he and Sean had grilled huge sirloins for dinner. Even Joey’s appetite had improved in the three days they’d been here, though he only picked at the peas, butterbeans, squash and other veggies that Collette cooked on a nightly basis.
Joey wandered in from the living room, where he’d been watching TV. “Is that for a birthday?”
“No. The cake is for a homecoming.”
“What’s that?” Joey dragged a chair to the counter and climbed into it, resting on his knees for a closer look at the cake.
“Do you remember Mr. Ledger?”
“Uh-huh. He was sick.”
“Right, but he’s feeling better now and he’s coming home from the hospital this afternoon.”
Joey looked upset. “This is Sean’s house.”
“No, Sean is Mr. Ledger’s son, but he doesn’t live here. He’s only visiting, as we are. This is Mr. Ledger’s house.”
“He should stay at the hospital.”
“He’s a nice man, Joey. You’ll like him.”
“What if I don’t?”
“You like Sean. I’m sure you’ll like his dad.”
Eve sensed the anxiety building in her son. His fear of strangers, especially men, made life almost overwhelming for him at times.
She smoothed the last bit of frosting. “Do you want to lick the spoon?”
“I guess.”
Talk of Troy’s homecoming had sucked the enthusiasm right out of him. She handed him the spoon and gave him a hug. “It’s going to be fine, Joey. And we’ll be going home soon.”
She was about to set the empty frosting bowl in the sink when Sean swung through the kitchen door. He dropped a package on the counter beside Joey.
“Looks like you got mail, pardner.”
Apprehension stole Eve’s breath. No one should know Joey was here. She snatched the package away before Joey could open it.
“It’s okay. Let him have it,” Sean said, tapping his finger on the address label.
It had been mailed to Sean from a Western store in Austin. She released her wrestler’s grip on the package and let Sean take it from her and give it back to Joey.
She should have known Sean wouldn’t have blown their cover or given Joey anything that could prove dangerous. No wonder Sean had kept his distance from her the last few days. Fear and paranoia had turned her into an untrusting control freak.
Joey climbed out of the chair and took his gift to the kitchen table.
Sean pulled out his pocket knife, cut the tape and walked back to the counter. “Cake looks good.”
“Thanks. Hopefully, it’s also edible.”
“I’m sure it will be. Chocolate cake is my favorite.”
Now she really prayed it was edible.
Joey studied his package, turning it around at different angles, as if it were a puzzle he was trying to solve.
“Open it,” she urged.
“Men like to take their time,” Sean said. He reached for the frosting bowl, raked his finger along the edge, collecting a mouthful of the creamy confection.
He started to taste it, then poked the laden finger in her direction, stopping an inch from her lips.
Her pulse accelerated. She parted her lips and he slipped his finger inside her mouth, then she wrapped her lips around it and sucked.
The sweetness of the frosting was no match for the delicious tingling sensation that vibrated all the way down to her core.
She wanted to return the favor, but didn’t trust herself to carry it off with the same nonchalance that Sean had. He returned his finger to the bowl, this time tasting the frosting himself.
Sean licked his lips appreciatively. “Wow. You have been holding out on us in the cooking department.”
“Better hold the praise until you’ve tasted the cake.”
He smiled and hooked his thumbs in the back pockets of his jeans. “Nothing topped with chocolate frosting can be bad.”
A blush heated her cheeks as she walked over to the table where Joey had finally torn the paper from his package. He reached inside and pulled out a black felt Western hat, a miniature version of the one Sean wore.
Joey ran his fingers over the brim, making the full circle before plopping the hat on his head. He adjusted it the way he’d seen Sean do his. Then he pulled a shoe box from the package.
“Boots,” he said, lifting the cover.
“For keeping your feet dry,” Sean said.
Joey grinned as he took them out one at a time, holding them up and examining them as if he were an art dealer and they were expensive relics.
Satisfied that they were the real thing, he sat down with them in the middle of the floor and kicked off his tennis shoes. He struggled with getting his foot into the new leather.
Eve stooped to help him, but Sean took her arm and tugged her back to a standing position before she could lend a helping hand.
“I was just going to—”
Sean silenced her with a finger on his lips and a shake of the head. A few minutes later, Joey’s feet were fitted snugly into his new boots and he was beaming in triumph and excitement. The hat was knocked askew as he stood, but he straightened it himself and swaggered around the room.
“I’m a cowboy,” he said.
“You sure are,” Eve said. “A very handsome cowboy.”
Joey walked over to Sean with just a trace of his usual shyness. “Thank you.”
“You bet, buddy.” Sean high-fived him. “Want to go see what the horses think of your new gear?”
Joey looked back at Eve. “You come, too, Momma.”
“I’d love to, but I think from the sound of that car in the driveway that Mr. Ledger has arrived.”
The mood of the room switched from carefree to somber in less than a heartbeat. Joey took off his hat and put it on the table. Sean stiffened, his face drawn, as if waiting for a firing squad.
The man was amazing with Joey, but apparently he had no expertise at dealing with his own emotional issues. That could explain, Eve thought, why a man as wickedly tantalizing as he was single.
Nonetheless, Troy Ledger was home and it was long past time for the two men to deal with seventeen years of mistakes, regrets and a murder case that had stolen much of their lives.
And time for her to get out of their way.
THE NIGHT WAS PITCH-BLACK, the light from the moon and stars blocked by layers of clouds that promised rain by morning. Orson Bastion hunched behind the lonesome tombstone, waiting to make certain there was no one around to see him when he said his final farewell.
The branches in an old oak tree a few feet away creaked and groaned as they swayed in the wind. A funeral dirge that never quit. A sentry to watch over the legions of bones that would never rattle again.
Unsurprisingly, he was the only one at this forsaken cemetery in the wee hours before dawn. No one was following him. He’d outsmarted them all. It was exhilarating how easy that was to do.
Orson crept from behind the tombstone and walked the few steps to the grave of Lydia Bastion. Died at the young age of fifty-eight. She’d been only eighteen when he was born.
She was the only woman
he’d ever loved, yet he hadn’t been there when she put a gun to her head and pulled the trigger. Alyssa said her brains had been scattered about the garage like confetti.
He dropped to his knees and dipped his head until the top of it kissed the grassy earth. “Goodbye, Mother. I’m sorry that I wasn’t the boy you wanted me to be. You loved me, anyway. No matter what I did, you loved me.”
Drops of rain began to fall as Orson walked away from the grave for the last time. He climbed the fence and made his way to the nondescript black compact car he’d left in a patch of overgrown shrubs.
Reaching beneath his shirt, he touched the butt of the pistol in his shoulder holster. Most of the guys he’d met in prison liked heavy-duty arms. A pistol and a razor-sharp hunting knife were all Orson had ever needed.
That and his strength. He could squash a man with his foot or break a neck with his bare hands. Tonight all he’d need was the pistol. He’d done his research well. There would be no screwup.
Anticipation rocked though him. He started the engine and pulled onto the road.
Just a few more scores to settle. Revenge would be quick and sweet. And then he’d disappear south of the border for good. A free man, living the life he deserved.
Chapter Seven
Eve woke to the distant rumble of thunder. The room was dark and the house possessed an eerie predawn stillness that crept under her skin. A chilly draft passed over her, as if a cool hand had brushed her skin. For a second she imagined someone in the room, silently watching her.
She sat up straight, and the sensation passed as soon as she comforted herself with the sound of Joey’s rhythmic breathing. Still, pinpricks of apprehension stung along her nerve endings.
In the bright light of day, she could almost convince herself that Orson Bastion was truly out of the country and out of her life for good. But here in the shadowed darkness, reality merged with memories, and if she let herself, she knew she’d sink into the past, into the horror that she didn’t like to think about and never talked about.
Moving as quietly as she could, she threw her feet over the side of the bed and slid them into her slippers. Stealing from the room, she stepped into the long hallway.
Sean was just across the hall, and the door to his room was ajar. She hesitated, listening to his breathing, thinking of his body stretched out in the double bed. She wondered what he’d say if she took the initiative and crawled in beside him and curled her body around his.
Her good sense checked in quickly. He’d think she was nuts—or desperate. The latter probably wouldn’t be that far off base. It had been two years since Brock’s death, months more since she’d slept in the arms of a man. Not that she’d given her lack of sexual satisfaction that much thought until now.
Which meant this was merely a situational attraction evoked by Sean’s status as a protector. Her reaction to him would level off as soon as she felt safe and secure, and the proximity issue no longer applied. Any decent psychiatrist would come to that same conclusion.
Unfortunately, resorting to psychiatric labeling and self-diagnosis didn’t erase thoughts of Sean stretched out on his bed. Eve tiptoed down the hallway for a glass of cool water that would soothe her throat and hopefully tone down the unwanted desire.
When she reached the family room, the front door was slightly ajar. Her heart slammed against her chest.
“Is that you, Eve?”
Troy. She sighed in relief, thankful that she hadn’t gone for a knife to attack a man in his own house for the second time this week.
“It’s me.” She went to the kitchen, filled a glass with water from the tap and joined him on the porch, closing the door behind her. “How did you know it was me?”
“Years of nothing to do but listen to approaching footfalls. The monotony of prison life fosters a multitude of useless skills.”
“I suppose. Are you feeling okay?”
“A little tired. That’s it.”
“But you were having trouble sleeping?”
“I always do. I see the sun come up lots of mornings from this same spot. But that’s okay. I love the freedom of just walking out that door anytime I choose.”
“Seventeen years of paying for a crime you didn’t commit, but it’s all behind you now, Troy.”
Troy dropped to the top step and stretched his long legs out in front of him. “Not everyone is as certain of my innocence as you are.”
She leaned against the support post. “Are you talking about Sean?”
“Him, and others. He’s the one most on my mind now.”
Eve hadn’t gotten the chance to visit with Troy alone this afternoon. Dylan and Collette had stayed through an early dinner, and then Troy had gone back to the master bedroom to rest. She hadn’t wanted to disturb him.
Sean had barely spoken to his father, except to ask a few questions about the ranch. The strain between them had added layers of tension to what should have been a restful continuation of Troy’s recovery. She was certain having her and Joey there for protection from an escaped convict hadn’t helped either.
So, even if it came during the wee hours of the morning, she was glad to have this time alone with Troy.
“Sean just needs time to get to know you,” she said. “He has years of indoctrination about your guilt to put behind him. He’s here, and that’s what’s important.”
“His staying has little to do with me. Not that I’m not grateful he had the good sense to stop you from running off on your own. I sure didn’t need to have to go looking for you in my weakened condition. Nonetheless, he’d be on his way by now if it weren’t for you.”
“Did he tell you that?”
“Not in so many words, but I see it in his eyes and in the way he backs out of a conversation with me before it gets going. I don’t blame him. I should have pulled myself from the crushing grief and battled harder to prove my innocence. I should never have given up trying to contact my sons just because Helene’s family fought me on it.”
“Are you still obsessed with finding Helene’s killer?”
“I don’t think of it as an obsession, but yes. It’s what kept me going all those miserable years in the pen. Her killer not only took her life years too soon, he stole her from me and from our sons.
“And for what? The few dollars we had in the house or to satisfy some inner demon? I’ll never rest until I find him and see that he pays.”
Eve dropped down beside Troy and put her hand on his arm. “You truly loved her, didn’t you?”
“I still do.” The words were all but swallowed by his pain.
Eve had difficulty comprehending a love that strong. “You must have been true soul mates.”
Troy managed a smile. “Not unless ‘soul mates’ means opposites. We were nothing alike. She came from an influential, wealthy family. I was a loner who worked enough odd jobs to pick up entry money for the rodeo. She had class, read poetry, always had fresh flowers and scented candles in the house.
“I lived in worn jeans and dusty boots, drank beer from the bottle and thought there should always be a fiddle in the band. But I swear, I was so in love with her that even after five sons it was sometimes dizzying just to watch her walk into a room.”
“Those are the things you should tell Sean.”
“He’d still believe what he wants to believe. Everyone does.”
Thunder rattled though the clouds and the first large drops of rain began to pelt the walk. It was the same weather they’d had on her last night in Dallas. The night before fear had sent her running to Troy and indirectly to Sean.
“Rain’s setting in,” Troy said. “I say we try to get a few more hours sleep before the day starts in earnest.”
They walked back into the house together. Troy closed and locked the door while she started down the hall.
“I’ll be right behind you,” Troy said. “I just need a glass of water to take another dadblamed pill. Hand me your empty glass and I’ll put it in the sink for you.”
&n
bsp; “Thanks.”
A few steps later, she heard whispering. Joey. And Sean. Joey must have wakened while she was on the porch. He’d probably called for her and she hadn’t heard him.
She paused in eavesdropping range.
“I’ve had nightmares, too,” Sean said. “In this very room. This is where I slept when I was a kid.”
“Did you call for your mother?”
“Sometimes.”
“What did she tell you?”
“That the dark was a cuddly black blanket that God gave the world so that we can sleep. Otherwise little boys would never want to go to bed.”
“Did she hug you?”
“Yep. She was the best hugger in the whole world.”
“My momma’s a good hugger, too.”
“I’ll bet.”
Eve was spellbound by the scene their words created. There were so many sides to this hunk of a cowboy who could tame wild stallions and comfort small boys.
She could come with all the psychological theories she wanted, but if she didn’t leave here soon, she was going to fall hopelessly in love with him.
Both Joey and Sean looked up as she stepped into the room.
“Where did you go, Momma? I called you, but you didn’t come.”
“I’m sorry, sweetie. I stepped onto the front porch with Mr. Ledger for a breath of fresh air, and I didn’t hear you.”
“Sounds cozy,” Sean said.
If the idea wasn’t so ludicrous, she’d have sworn there was a tinge of jealousy in his tone.
Joey scratched his big toe. “It’s okay, Momma. Sean heard me.”
“I see.” She was also bewitchingly aware that Sean was wearing nothing but partially zipped jeans that he’d probably grabbed and wiggled into at Joey’s first call.
Joey reached for his stuffed lion that he’d left at the edge of his pillow. “Me and Sean are cowboy buddies.”
Eve pulled up the covers and tucked Joey in. “That’s nice, cowboy, but I think you should go back to sleep now, so Sean can do the same.”
“Okay. Thanks, Sean.”
“You bet, buddy.”
Eve gave Joey a peck on the cheek and then followed Sean into the hall and to the door to his bedroom. “You have quite a way with my son. It usually takes him much longer to warm up to a new man.”
