Prairie Desire (Cowboys of The Flint Hills #2)

by Tessa Layne

  “And my family arrives in two.” Jamey snuggled deeper into Brodie’s embrace. “Gotta sneak in our kisses while we can.”

  Ben snorted. “I’ll be in the kitchen.” He strode through the house, dropping the bags at the foot of the stairs, and headed straight for the fridge. What he wanted more than anything was a mess of bacon and eggs. And a new life.

  Jealousy at what his brothers had swirled through him. He wanted sons. He wanted someone to be waiting on the porch for him. Aww hell, who was he kidding? He’d half hoped that Hope would have stuck around. But after the way he’d berated her, why would she? He cracked an egg a little too hard, crushing it in his hand. Cursing, he tossed it in the trash, wiped the counter and started again.

  “That’s no way to treat an egg.” Warren shuffled in and leaned on the island.

  Great. Last thing Ben needed was a talking to from the old cuss. He’d heard from both his brothers about Warren’s ‘little’ conversations.

  “Congratulations, Grampy.”

  Warren let out a dry laugh. “You seen him yet?” Ben could hear the pride in the old man’s voice. “Looks just like his mama.”

  Huh. He’d have thought the baby would’ve been born with the telltale Sinclaire dark hair. Although his sister, Emma, was as blonde as their mother had been. He reached into the fridge and pulled out two more eggs. “Hungry?”

  Warren nodded once. “Mind if I put on a pot of coffee? No power down home.”

  Shit.

  There wouldn’t be power at his bunkhouse either. They only had back up generators for the Big House and the barn. That meant he’d be underfoot here until the power came on. And where would they put Jamey’s family when they arrived in two days?

  It would be up to him to figure things out. Blake would be wrapped up with Maddie and the baby, and Brodie was understandably worthless at the moment. He’d taken to following Jamey around like a lovesick puppy. “Help yourself.”

  “Don’t mind if I do.” Warren shuffled around the counter and busied himself with the coffee machine.

  Ben whisked the eggs vigorously, carefully avoiding the old man’s eyes. Maybe if he just ignored Warren, he’d escape without the old man’s crazy advice. They worked in silence together until Warren handed him a cup of coffee.

  “You get your mess straightened out with your woman?”

  No such luck. “Hope’s not my woman. And there’s nothing to straighten out.”

  “There is with the two of you moping around like your dog died.”

  “I’m not moping.” Dying inside was much, much closer to the way he felt.

  “Pah.” Warren thunked his coffee mug on the counter and waved a hand at him. “You think this ain’t mopin’?

  Ben pulled the eggs from the heat and spooned them onto two plates, offering one to Warren. Best not to answer. Warren would disagree with him anyway. He made a noncommittal noise in this throat and shrugged.

  “Heh. Heh. Yer jus’ like yer ma. Keepin’ all your troubles inside.”

  Ben’s head shot up and he narrowed his eyes at the old man. Blake had mentioned that Warren had been in love with their mother when he’d been young. Did Warren still carry a torch for his mother?

  “Don’t look at me like that, son. You’ve always been the most even-keel of the bunch. Hope’s got you off-kilter.” Warren’s gaze was steady and strong. And it bored right into him. Like he could somehow see into the deep recesses of Ben’s heart. “She’s a feisty one, my niece.” He paused for a sip of coffee, then returned his intense gaze to Ben, a knowing gleam in his eye. “But then I think you’ve known that for some time. Haven’t ya?”

  Shit.

  Had Warren discovered their friendship? If so, why wait until now to say anything? Because Warren Hansen was a wily bugger, and a helluva poker player. In cards and life. He never played a card until the right time.

  “What are you saying, Warren?”

  Warren took a sip of coffee, and eyed him silently, a small smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. He shrugged. “Not sayin’ much of anything. But I’ll tell you one thing I’ve learned, son. You only regret the chances you don’t take.”

  Warren placed the coffee mug on the counter and tipped his hat. “Thanks for the eggs.” He shuffled around the island, and paused at the entryway. “Don’t mope too long, son. Don’t miss your chance to set things right.”

  “Heading out so soon, Pops?” Blake stood in the doorway, holding a tiny blanketed bundle, and wearing a silly smile.

  Warren straightened up, and his features softened as he gazed at his grandson. “I’ll be back. You won’t get rid of me that easy.”

  Longing stabbed through Ben. That look of unadulterated love had briefly taken years off Warren’s face. He wanted that. With Hope. Even if she broke him in the end. His hand shook a little as he took a big gulp of coffee, not caring that it scalded on the way down.

  God, he was a fucking mess. How had he ever let himself get so far gone? He was supposed to be the steady one. The problem solver. Always in control. And right now, he felt like his life was anything but.

  Blake called from the entryway. “You ready to meet your nephew?”

  “Does he have a name?”

  Blake’s eyes went soft with wonder as he glanced down and caressed the baby’s cheek. “Henry Hansen Sinclaire.”

  That was a surprise. “No Pascal?” Pascal was Blake’s middle name, and the middle name given to every firstborn male Sinclaire for as long as anyone could remember.

  “It was time for something new. And it’s important to Maddie that he grow up knowing both sides of his heritage.” Blake walked around the island. “Hold him.”

  Ben extended his arms, full of trepidation. But before he could voice his concern, Blake had already nestled Henry in the crook of his arm. Wonder stole through Ben as he stared at his nephew. The baby was so… light. Weighed practically nothing at all. And Warren was right, baby Henry’s eyes were dark, dark blue. Just like his mother’s.

  For a drawn out moment, Ben couldn’t breathe. He was holding the Sinclaire legacy. This little guy, who stared at him guilelessly, was the reason he devoted all his energy to the ranch. And by God, he hoped like hell he could give Henry a legacy to be proud of. And if he was lucky, maybe a few cousins in the not too distant future.

  Ben blinked hard, surprised at the lump that suddenly closed his throat. “Hey there, lil’ guy. I’m your uncle.” He glanced across to his brother. Blake’s face reflected his own emotion. “And you’ve got a whole crew of people here who are gonna help you grow up and become a great cowboy.”

  Ben couldn’t stop staring at the face that gazed up at him. A perfectly tiny little mouth, dark eyebrows, and a wisp of black hair peeked out from under his little cap. So perfectly formed. Taking a shaky breath, he handed Henry back to Blake. “We need to talk about sleeping arrangements for the wedding.”

  “What do you mean?” Blake eyed him, confusion on his face.

  “You don’t need me underfoot. And I’m overdue for a few days of winter camping.”

  Blake snorted. “Seriously?”

  “The outbuildings won’t have power until everything comes online in town. You can put Jamey’s folks in my old room and Mason in Brodie’s old room. Simon can stay down at the lodge with Jamey’s brothers. He’ll love that. And Emma can stay in her room here and help Maddie with Henry. That pretty much fills us up.”

  Blake’s eyes narrowed. “Are you sure this isn’t about Hope?”

  Ben shrugged. “Might be. But it’s only sleeping. And I have a structure I built awhile back down by the creek.”

  “Since when?” Blake’s eyes widened at the admission as he gently bounced his son.

  Ben didn’t know why he’d decided to let on just then about the tree house. Maybe because Blake looked so fatherly, standing there with Henry nestled in the crook of his arm, that he no longer wanted to keep secrets. From anyone. “Since forever.”

  “Shut the fuck up.”
r />   Ben tsked, shaking his head. “Can’t talk that way in front of your son.”

  “Don’t change the subject,” Blake answered sharply. “Since when do you have a secret hideaway? And where the hell is it? I know this property as well as you do.”

  The tight knot that had been pressing on Ben’s sternum for days began to unwind. The warmth of release flooded his limbs. “You and Brodie used to play in the swimming hole by the homestead.”

  Blake nodded. “Yeah, so?”

  “Sometimes I wanted to go think. And look for arrowheads. So I went upriver one day where the trees are thicker.”

  “And?”

  “And there’s a wide curve with a natural pool and a shallow crossing about three quarters of a mile upstream. I built a tree house.”

  “A tree house.” Blake’s voice filled with disbelief.

  “With Hope.” There. It was out. Come hell or high water, whatever it meant for their families. Maybe there never would have been a feud if the families had known about their friendship. Or maybe it wouldn’t have been as bad, or long.

  “You’re kidding.”

  Ben shook his head, and let out a rueful laugh. “Nope. She was around six the first time we ran into each other at the spot. She made me spit shake with her.”

  “Spit shake?” Blake sounded incredulous. Then he threw back his head and laughed. “You dog. You never told a soul.”

  “’Course not. You and Brodie would have ribbed me to death. I just wanted peace and quiet. And a place to think.”

  “So Hope was your first girlfriend.” Blake stated it like it was a foregone conclusion.

  “Not exactly. She was more of a pest that I got used to, and then yeah, somewhere along the line I fell for her. But I fucked it up big time.”

  “Now or then?”

  “Then.”

  “What about now?” Blake’s pointed gaze hit him in the gut.

  Ben swallowed the ache that tightened his throat. “I found out she got kicked out of veterinary school for cheating.”

  Blake gave a low whistle, eyebrows shooting skyward. “And?”

  “She wouldn’t tell me. I found out from Cav after I’d called in a favor to help her, and made myself look like an idiot. And after living through Jake and Ma. I can’t do it. Can’t take secrets.”

  Blake’s mouth drew down. “Sometimes you keep secrets to protect the people you love. We all have secrets. Hell, I kept the biggest secret of all and it nearly destroyed what I had with Maddie. But she gave me a chance to explain, and we agreed no more secrets.” Blake shifted Henry to his other arm. “Have you given Hope a chance to explain?”

  Ben shook his head. “I was a dick.”

  “Do you love her?”

  “I wanted to marry her.”

  “Wanted?”

  “Still do. But… I…” The words got stuck in his throat.

  Blake glared at him. “Jake was a sonofabitch. Don’t let him ruin your life from the grave. Talk to her. Maddie says she’s a wreck.”

  Ben jammed his hands deep in his pockets. He’d do it. Even if he had to wait a week on the front porch of her house. They’d sort out what was between them once and for all.

  CHAPTER 29

  The tree house would be too cold for hanging out. And the chances of Hope being there when he arrived were next to none. But there was no way Ben was going to show up on her front porch with a Coleman stove and a mummy sack. Better to get himself set up for the coming week.

  The last time he’d winter camped had been in college. It had been a cold, wet experience he’d never wanted to repeat. Staying in the tree house would be a step up from his college days and had him thinking again of moving the ranch to solar. Heck, maybe they should build a bunch of tree houses and market the experience to birders. The Flint Hills were on the migratory highway, and guests could eat at the lodge or get daily deliveries.

  What would Hope think of that idea? She’d always encouraged his hare-brained ideas.

  Hi. I love you. I’m still pissed. And hurt. But I’ll listen.

  The words had become Ben’s mantra as he made his way along the ridge toward the hideaway. The trees popped and crackled with melting ice in the sunshine. The ground beneath him had already begun to turn to mud. While his Stetson would protect him from falling ice, he’d still have to be careful coming through the trees. One falling branch or large chunk of ice could break an arm, or worse. The sooner it all melted, the better. He slipped and slid his way down the slope to the river bottoms.

  What if Hope shunned him?

  What if they came to an impasse and couldn’t move forward?

  Worse, what if they moved forward and she betrayed him again? His stomach roiled at the thought of enduring another betrayal.

  Warren’s voice rang in his head. “You only regret the chances you don’t take, son.” He’d take this chance if it killed him. Even if he regretted it later.

  And then Blake’s voice. “Sometimes you keep secrets to protect the people you love.”

  Was that what Hope had been trying to do? Protect him? There was only one way to find out. He and Hope deserved a shot at happiness. He only hoped she felt the same way. He’d hurt her deeply. And more than once. Was her heart big enough to forgive him again?

  Ben pushed through the bushes into the clearing where the tree house stood, and stopped. The ground in front of him was torn up. Someone had been there. Maybe someone was there. Blood pounded in his ears as he followed the path. Whoever had been here had gone straight to the tree house.

  Hope.

  His pulse ratcheted up a notch even as his stomach dropped to his toes.

  Ben’s feet started moving, picking up pace as he drew near to the tree. Someone had been there. Every rung had mud on it. Dropping the stove, he slung the sleeping bag cord over his arm and began to climb. As he pulled himself over the edge, the first thing he noticed was a pair of rubber boots outside the door.

  “Hope?” Ben called out, even before he could think. He scrambled to his feet and burst in the door, mud be damned. “Hope?”

  He stopped short. She stood in front of the little table, eyes wide, mouth parted in surprise. Ben glanced down at the table. She’d been writing… a letter? Hell, he didn’t care. She was here. He crossed to her in one step and cupped her face between his hands, kissing her before she had a chance to speak.

  As soon as their mouths touched, his heart slammed into his ribs and settled back into place, setting a fire tearing through his bloodstream. At first, she stood stiffly, but as his tongue swept into her mouth, tasting her, she made a little noise in the back of her throat and relaxed into him, tongue sliding and parrying against his.

  This.

  This was home. Hope was home. She’d always been home. He slid his arms around her, molding her to him. Thigh to thigh, coat to coat. The coats needed to go – as soon as possible. He thrust his hands underneath the heavy material, gliding his hands across her ribs and down to the swell of her hip.

  She broke away, breathless. “Ben, I need to–”

  He kissed her again. “No. Me first.” Placing his forehead against hers, he spoke, heart lodged way up in his throat, making his voice rough. “I love you, Hope.” He shut his eyes against the swell of emotion that threatened to overwhelm him. “I’m still upset… and confused. But I should have given you a chance. And I’m sorry I hurt you.” He felt her quick intake of breath before he heard it. He kissed her again, fortifying himself. “But I’ll listen. To everything. And we’ll figure this out. Together.”

  Hope burst into tears.

  He’d prepared himself for a thousand different scenarios. But not one included Hope dissolving into a puddle of tears. Every protective instinct inside him went on high alert as she leaned into him, sobbing uncontrollably on his shoulder.

  What could he do but hold her? “Sweetheart. What is it? I promise I’ll listen without saying a word.” He pressed a kiss into her hair. “I’m so sorry. I’ve been an ass.”

/>   “I lost Buttercup.”

  His chin snapped up. “What? How?”

  She sniffled into his coat. “The other night, during the storm. Maddie needed help and the trucks were already shellacked shut with ice. Buttercup was the only unshod horse in the stable. We made it as far as the woods over there,” she waved at the window. “But then a branch snapped and nearly landed on us. She threw me and bolted.”

  Guilt slammed into him. He should have been here. Not sucking his thumb in Manhattan. If anything had happened to her, he’d never have forgiven himself. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah.” She nodded. “Just a few bruises. I wore my helmet.”

  Relief washed over him. He cupped her cheek firmly, kissing the side of her mouth, her face, her temple. “What about Buttercup. Is she okay?”

  Disappointment briefly shuttered her face, and her eyes filled with tears. “I can’t find her. I couldn’t go after her in the storm. She’d already bolted, and Maddie… I couldn’t abandon Maddie.” Her voice trailed off, and she brushed a tear off her cheek. “I hiked home this morning and took out Phyllis to look for her, but there’s so much ice falling I turned around. I left Phyllis in the paddock, hoping maybe Buttercup would get wind of her, or hear her.” She turned her face to his, eyes red-rimmed and tortured. “I’ve ruined everything. I never should have taken her out.”

  A knot twisted in his chest. How much of her self-loathing was because of him? He cupped her cheeks between his hands. “Sweetheart, you’d never knowingly put an animal in harm’s way, not without good reason. She’s a smart horse. She’ll find her way home.”

  She shook her head, the lines deepening between her brows. “I’d only taken her out once before. I’m not sure it was enough for her to orient herself. She could have run for miles. And oh, God… if her saddle got caught…” She buried her head in his shoulder, shaking with tears.

  “Do you want me to saddle up Pepper? Brodie and I can go search. Your brothers, too.”

  She shook her head, snuffling. “Where? She could have run anywhere. I covered the close areas. Mustangs can run for miles.”