“What was?” Jack came around the other side of the sofa and settled beside her.
“Acting as if you wanted to see his pajamas.”
“No big deal.”
“To him, it was. Captain Cosmo is his hero.”
Jack stared down at her delicate hands gripped tightly together. She’d had a tough evening. “I gathered that.” Not knowing what he could do to help, he placed a hand over hers. “He told me he has a poster of him.”
Abby leaned back against the cushion, willing herself to relax. All that had happened was over. Austin was safe. “It was a miracle of miracles that I got it for him.” She talked to keep her mind free of images, of a snake, of her frightened son. “When the posters first came out, they were the hot item. I knew how much he wanted one, so I hired a baby-sitter and ran around to ten different stores before I found one.”
Jack stretched out an arm behind her on the sofa. “He’s lucky to have you.”
She took a moment to answer. “I’m the lucky one.”
“Come here.” His hands on her shoulders, Jack closed his arms around her, felt her tremble.
“I’m okay,” Abby insisted on a deep breath, but for a moment longer, because he kept holding her, she stayed in his arms. For years, she’d basically stood alone. It was a nice feeling to lean on someone.
“Mom,” Austin called out from the other room. “I’m ready.”
She heard him, but it wasn’t easy to break free from a cloud of longing. With Jack’s comforting embrace around her, she yearned for this to be more than just a passing moment in her life.
“Abby.” Jack felt her pulling inward again, and wanted to stop her. He’d been giving her space, and all the while he’d been aching for her. If he thought she didn’t care, he would have backed off, but he’d seen passion in her eyes, felt it in her kiss. “Have dinner with me tomorrow at the barn.” Her fragrance taunted him to lean closer. “You and Austin,” he said before she refused.
Dinner. A friendly meal. Nothing more. And there would be three of them, Abby reminded herself. “You’re staying in the barn then?” She remembered hours in the loft, in the bed.
“Yes,” he answered.
“What time?” she asked Jack before she allowed herself to think about what she was doing.
Jack shrugged. He hadn’t thought beyond the moment. “I’ll get back to you,” he said, and rose with her.
Abby released an unsteady sigh while she watched him cross the room to the door. There were no what ifs anymore about what she was feeling. Emotion hadn’t snuck up on her. It had slammed against her like some electric charge and riveted her in place. It had consumed her whole being with its energy. It had warmed her soul and electrified her body with its heat.
She had no choice but to face the truth. She knew now that she’d never stopped loving him. She’d only fooled herself for all these years. But this time was different. This time she’d look for no promises.
Chapter Eight
Throughout the night, memories of what she and Jack had shared lingered in her mind. And though the next morning Abby tried to keep them tucked in the back of her mind, the memories were always there. She recalled the softness in his voice when they lay in the afterglow of lovemaking, the tenderness of his caress during the most casual embrace. She could write all that off to lust. But silly memories plagued her, too, like the evening he’d joined her in the bathtub still wearing his Stetson, or the morning when he’d returned from a drive to Phoenix to bring her rice and cashew chicken for lunch.
By midafternoon, she faced a few facts. She should have fought harder, made him believe that they belonged together. But she’d been afraid to do anything that might break the spell, end the happiness she’d found with him. So she’d gone along with whatever he’d said.
Had she been different back then, she might have made him realize that loving her wasn’t a mistake. And though he might not have been in less of a rage at Sam, he might have reached for her instead of running off.
She knew the ground rules this time, didn’t she? Whatever they found again wouldn’t last. She could deal with that. What was worrying her, what made her hesitate, had nothing to do with her and Jack. Everything she did affected Austin. So no matter what she decided, she had to do everything in her power to keep Austin from getting hurt.
Needing a glass of iced tea, she entered the lodge kitchen. At the table, Wendy was filling small squares of netting with birdseed. Nearby, Jodi sat in her high chair, giggling as Ray played peekaboo behind his Stetson. “Who’s doing the entertaining?” Abby asked lightly, eager for conversation to escape her own thoughts.
Ray chuckled and straightened, plopping his hat back on his head. “Can’t resist this little one.”
Wendy sent him a teasing grin. “He’s the best baby-sitter in town.”
“And proud of it.” His smile deepened the many lines in his weathered face. “See ya, ladies.” He placed a kiss on Jodi’s forehead. “Including you, Princess Jodi.”
Abby thought it sweet that Ray was so devoted to his grand-niece. “He’s a pretty great guy,” she said to Wendy.
“One of the best,” her friend replied, tying up one of the net packages.
After pouring a glass of iced tea, Abby settled in a chair across from Wendy. “You should have called me to help with these.” She took a sip of her drink first, then grabbed a handful of birdseed and centered it in a square of netting. Behind her, she heard the bang of the kitchen’s swinging door.
“Hey, Mom.”
She should have known. Austin entered no room quietly.
“Whatcha doing?” he asked, stopping beside the table.
“We’re filling these with birdseed to throw at your aunt and Sam after the ceremony,” Wendy told him.
“Yeah.” A look of delight flashed across his face. “Even grown-ups are going to do that?”
“Even grown-ups,” Abby answered, sharing a grin with Wendy at the disbelief in his voice. “Where have you been?”
“At the stables. I told Aunt Laura I was going there. Rainbow is real pretty, isn’t she, Mom? I sure wish I could have a horse.”
“A horse.” She managed not to laugh.
Not surprising to Abby, he was eyeing the huge cookie jar that Wendy had on the counter. “Know what, Mom?”
“What?” She set the tied package of birdseed alongside the others that were already done, then rose from her chair to get him a glass of milk. “What kind of cookie do you want? Sugar or chocolate-chip?”
“Chocolate-chip.” He was silent, uncharacteristic for him, while Abby set the glass and a plate of cookies before him. “Mrs. Feilder is having a camp-out,” he said.
Abby recalled that Mrs. Feilder was a retired schoolteacher who’d chosen to abandon city living for a life on the ranch. She was now supervising the children’s activities.
It was on the tip of Abby’s tongue to tell Austin he couldn’t go. Though she had confidence in the ranch employees supervising the children’s program, images of scorpions and snakes and coyotes flashed through her mind.
“I can go. Right, Mom?” he asked between bites of cookie.
She wrestled to get the words out. After that jaunt he took into the desert yesterday, letting him out of her sight for even ten minutes was proving more difficult than she’d expected. “Austin—”
“Mom.” He clutched her right arm. “Mom, don’t say no. Everyone will think I’m a baby if they all go and I don’t.”
“A lot of the others won’t go.” The image of a fragile nine-year-old blond girl, a guest at the ranch, who lived on Park Avenue and whose mother considered a day at the zoo roughing it, flashed into Abby’s mind. “Not everyone will go.”
A whine entered his voice. “Mom.”
“Austin, I’m not letting you camp out there,” she said firmly with a sweep of her arm toward the desert.
“Not out there, Mom. Out back.”
“Out back where?”
“Out back by the pa
vilion.”
Of course, the ranch wouldn’t take such young children anywhere that might be dangerous for them.
“Mom, can I? Can I?”
It wouldn’t really be any different than camping out in a backyard, she reasoned. Before the protective streak rose again within her, she gave her okay. “Yes, you can.”
“All right!” Austin jumped a foot in the air, sending his chair rocking. Grabbing it, he shot a look over his shoulder at Wendy. “Sorry.” In response, she gave him a dismissive wave of her hand. “I’m going to go tell Chris. Okay, Mom?” he asked with such excitement, he was dancing from one foot to the other.
“Go,” she said with a laugh. She doubted he heard her as he flew from the room to find his new friend.
Wendy gestured to a corner of the kitchen near the swinging door. “I’m glad you said yes.”
Setting the empty milk glass and plate in the sink, Abby noted that Wendy was pointing to Austin’s bulging backpack.
“He’s obviously been packed since four o’clock, even though the camp-out doesn’t start until six-thirty,” Wendy said wryly.
“Would you say he has his mother expertly wound around his finger?”
“I’d say that he has a loving mom who wants to see him happy, and do what’s best for him.” A wistfulness entered Wendy’s voice. “But sometimes it’s difficult to know what’s best, isn’t it?”
Abby didn’t pry, for Wendy didn’t seem inclined to share her thoughts. She helped until they’d done enough birdseed packages so each guest had one, then went out the back door to find Mrs. Feilder and ask if Abby needed to furnish anything for the camp-out. As the door swung closed behind her, she saw Jack standing at the bottom step.
He started to climb the steps to her, when Austin and three other boys raced past them and down a path toward the pavilion. It was then Abby realized that this evening would be their first away from each other.
Anything Jack planned to say was forgotten as he saw sadness sweep across her face. “Something wrong?”
“I’m being silly.” Seeing his questioning look, she offered an explanation. “Austin is going on the camp-out tonight.”
“It’s safe.” He climbed the steps to her, stopping one below her. “They’ll be in tents.”
“I’m sure it is safe. We’ve just never been away from each other before.”
“And...?”
“And I seem to be the one who’s having a hard time with this new experience.”
Jack couldn’t exactly understand what she was feeling, but last night, when he’d been looking for Austin in the desert, he’d felt fear for another person unlike any he’d ever known. So, in a way, he understood what he viewed as an overwhelming need to protect a child. “Being a parent isn’t easy.”
“No, it isn’t,” she finally answered. In some small way she wanted Jack to know what he’d missed not being with Austin. “But it’s worth whatever it takes.”
Jack felt an unexpected pang of annoyance and jealousy. Some other man had given Abby that joy.
She sent him a wry, embarrassed smile. “I know I’m being silly about this.”
“You’re loving.” Gently he touched her face. “You always were.”
“That’s called mushy.”
He laughed easily. “Mushy?”
“Sentimental.”
He would call her responsive. Compassionate. Sensitive. She had a gentle soul. So did the boy, Jack had learned.
Behind them, the back door squeaked open. “Oh, good, I caught you,” Wendy said. “I counted the birdseed packages. We’re short. Do you know where Laura bought the ribbon? I’ll need more, and I want to match it.”
“I’ll find out,” Abby told her.
“Uh, no, you don’t have to—” Wendy grimaced as she noticed Jack standing there, her eyes apologetic. “I didn’t mean to bother you.”
“I’m supposed to be checking a fence,” Jack said to a retreating Wendy.
As the back door closed, Abby smiled. “She’ll be apologizing for the next half hour.”
“I do have to go,” he said. “I’ll see you—” He stopped. “Are you still coming for dinner?”
Dinner. Just the two of them. With Austin not there, they wouldn’t be having a casual, not-too-cozy dinner for three. He watched her. Waited.
“You’re killing my ego, Abby.” Pride demanded he keep his words light. “Quit hesitating.”
She stared at his mouth and wasn’t able to think about anything but the pleasure she knew she’d find in another kiss. For days she’d wanted to resist more contact with him. She’d wanted to believe she didn’t feel the same for him anymore. Then last night she’d accepted that she’d always loved him. “I’ll come as soon as Austin’s settled for the evening.”
“Good. You can fry the potatoes.”
Abby shared a smile with him. “Do you need me to bring anything?”
Unable to resist, he let his knuckles skim her cheek. “Just you.”
Just you. Those words had spiraled a nice warm thrill right down to the tips of Abby’s toes. And made her nervous.
A shower should have helped. But soaking under the spray of the water, though relaxing, didn’t make her feel any more certain she was doing the right thing tonight
For a longer time than necessary, she brushed her teeth. It was logical that she was edgy. Stepping into Jack’s place would flood her with memories.
During those summer months, she’d cooked meals with him in the tiny kitchen in the barn, sat on the sofa watching television and eating popcorn, spent nights with him in the queen-size bed with its patchwork quilt.
So tonight she’d have dinner with him in the small kitchen as she’d done many times. And then? Don’t wonder. Just go, she told herself. For one night, she wasn’t going to listen to good sense. For one night, she wanted to be that young girl again; she wanted to follow her heart.
Strolling up a hill several hundred feet away from the lodge, Abby looked up at Sam’s home. It was a lovely white, two-story farmhouse with several eaves. Abby recalled sitting on Sam’s porch swing with Jack. Soon her aunt would live in that home with its bright yellow kitchen and enormous windows.
A gentle breeze whipped around her as she walked past the house, then climbed an incline toward the working part of the ranch. Besides the house, there were sheds, the bunkhouse, the ranch hands’ stable and corral. Set higher on a hill was the converted gray barn—Jack’s place.
Abby eyed the front door. Jack could hurt her. There was so much risk in reaching out to him. And so much to lose if she didn’t. Before she had time to consider, she rapped on the door.
He’d needed to see her here again, Jack realized the instant he opened the door. When she stepped inside, he felt pleasure.
And he felt nervous. He’d rushed around earlier picking up clothes, dirty dishes and this morning’s newspaper. He’d started dinner, then taken a shower. And he’d warned himself not to expect too much tonight. But damn, the need to touch her clawed at him.
“Still like margaritas?” he asked. Her eyes looked dark to him, vulnerable, and a touch uncertain. “Or do you want a soda?”
“Still do,” she answered. Nothing was feeling steady, not even her breathing. “But I’ll have a soda.”
The home was so unique. The huge room was as she remembered, still sparsely decorated. Most of the furnishings were discards from guest quarters, a lamp, tables, a beige sofa and chair. She crossed the plank floor to a staircase that led to the loft, to the bedroom. She’d loved the view of distant mountains from the loft. She’d loved being in his home. “You’ve changed nothing.”
Jack dropped ice cubes into a glass. He couldn’t think about anything but how soft she looked, how right it seemed to have her here with him. “No reason to.”
Abby stepped toward the kitchen. “I thought I was going to do the potatoes,” she said as she saw them browning in a frying pan beside the pork chops.
“You’re a guest tonight.” He went t
o move the frying pan and winced when he grabbed the hot handle.
Without thinking, Abby reached into a drawer for a pot holder. “Are you okay?”
“Fine.”
Déjà vu slipped over her. They’d stood in almost the same place on another night. As she’d stretched for something, a plate, she remembered now, he’d slipped his arms around her. Dinner had been forgotten that night. “Here.” She set the pot holder on the counter near him. Maybe this hadn’t been a good idea.
Jack turned around. Standing tense, her back straight, she looked ready to run. All that hadn’t been said stood between them. “Abby, what happened wasn’t about you and me. You know that now, don’t you?”
She didn’t want to talk, to relive that night. She simply wanted to forget all that had gone wrong, because all the I’m sorrys in the world wouldn’t explain how he could have hurt her like that.
Jack read her well. Her lips thinned. She wouldn’t meet his eyes. She was gathering her defenses. Even if he restirred all the hurt he’d inflicted on her before, he needed to tell her more. “I wasn’t thinking straight that night.” Possibly she wouldn’t understand. But no matter what did or didn’t happen between them, he wanted her to know the truth. “I was angry after talking to my father.” An understatement. He’d been furious. After that argument with his father, what he’d needed most was her softness, her tender caress, and he hadn’t realized that until it was too late.
Slowly she faced him, surprised by his words, because she’d been expecting him to utter some excuse. She remembered that he’d promised to meet her by the pavilion. She’d waited almost an hour then had gone to the lodge to find him.
Jack switched off the burners. “That night, I went to Sam’s office to get a bill of sale for Willow, the chestnut mare.” He leaned against the stove. “I couldn’t find the paper in his desk. I knew the combination to the safe, but I’d never had reason to open it until then. I thought Sam had put the paper for the horse there, so I riffled through some documents.” He paused for a second. He no longer felt anger. Over the years, he’d become numb to all the feelings—the disbelief, the disappointment, mostly the hurt. “I found divorce papers,” he finally said. “Sam’s and my mother’s.”
Forever Mine Page 10
