The Texan's Little Secret

by Barbara White Daille

  “Something else?”

  “Yes. I don’t know if Delia kept in touch with him or not after they met in Fort Worth, but if so, maybe the name of the friend she stayed with will come to him.”

  Carly sat back in surprise, her shoulders pressed so firmly against the couch, pain bolted down her arm. “They met in Fort Worth,” she repeated flatly. “You mean, after my mom left home?”

  “Yes. As I mentioned, she and I had dinner in Lubbock. That night, she told me she planned to see Brock.”

  * * *

  ON THE WAY back to the motel, Carly had been so incensed that Luke expected to see scorch marks inside the truck’s cab. He didn’t altogether blame her. From what Mrs. Lewis had told them, it seemed possible Brock Baron had once deliberately denied his kids the chance to reconnect with their mom.

  In their motel room, she dropped her duffel bag on the floor and shoved it over near the wall, out of the way. She leaned back against the dresser, crossing her arms and looking in his direction. He wondered if she actually saw him.

  “I should have gone right back home tonight,” she muttered.

  “We can leave now, if you want. But it would be two a.m., at the earliest, before we’d get to Dallas. Better to get a good night’s sleep and take the trip home in the morning.”

  After you’ve had some time to calm down.

  Her next words proved the foolishness of that thought.

  “Whenever I get there, I’m going to tear into Daddy. He saw my mom, Luke. And he never said anything to anyone.”

  He set his duffel down on the nearest bed and took a seat beside it. They might be in for a long night—and not the kind he’d looked forward to. “Has your daddy ever talked to you or Savannah or anyone about Delia?”

  After a long, tense pause, she admitted, “Not that I know of.” Her words sounded brittle.

  Taking his life in his hands, he said gently, “Then, it’s probably a good idea not to jump to conclusions.”

  “Jump to conclusions? You heard Mrs. Lewis—he saw my mom after she left us.”

  “No. Mrs. Lewis said Delia was planning to see your daddy. But she didn’t know when or where, and she hasn’t seen your mom since the night they met for dinner. There’s no proof your mom followed through on her statement. Or that Brock agreed to the meet.”

  “Of course you’d take his side. He’s your—”

  “Don’t go there.” That time, he couldn’t keep his tone gentle. Couldn’t believe she’d throw the job in his face. Again. “I’m not taking anybody’s side in this. I’m trying to get you to see the truth.”

  She raked her hand through her hair and paced across the room, away from him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean what I said. It’s not you I’m furious with, it’s my daddy.”

  She paced back toward him. Her eyes blazed. From anger, obviously. And, he suspected, from hurt.

  He watched her stomp away again.

  Whatever Brock might’ve held back from his family, she saw it as another betrayal.

  Just the way she had felt he betrayed her.

  No matter what she did or didn’t mean to bring up, she’d been going to throw her accusation at him again. He could hang on to a lot of hurt of his own about that, if he cared to dwell on it. But right now all he could think of was Carly. He needed to calm her down. Or...maybe not.

  By the time she swung his way again, he had risen to stand in her path. She stumbled to a halt in front of him. Her chest heaved and her eyes sparkled and color brightened her cheeks.

  As he stood there for a moment, saying nothing, the pinkness in her cheeks deepened.

  He tried a smile. “We’re here for the night. Why don’t we do something to get you through it?”

  “Like what?”

  “Like picking up where we left off in the barn yesterday and seeing how far we get this time.”

  After a moment’s hesitation, she put her hands on her hips and cocked her head.

  The wild-girl act. Well, if that was what she needed to get her mind off her troubles, she could go for it.

  “Daredevil’s not here to see us, is he?” she said.

  Neither is your daddy.

  What the hell did that matter? A week from now, his employment at the Roughneck would be just a line on a job application.

  He reached out to tug Carly toward him, but she beat him to it, wrapping her arms around his neck the way she’d done in the barn.

  She kissed him as though the night would last forever.

  He kissed her as though he hadn’t a care in the world about next week.

  When they finally came up for air, he smiled and reached for the top snap of her pink Western shirt. “Ready to show me your slow, sexy ride?”

  “I told you once before,” she said, her breath coming in gasps, “that’s for city slickers.”

  “Oh, no,” he objected. “Not the kind of riding I’ve got in mind.”

  Before he could go for the next snap on her shirt, she had popped them all in one swift yank. She reached for the button on her jeans.

  He’d hoped for the pleasure of undressing her himself. But, hell, that could wait for the next time. Not to be outdone, he got to work on his own shirt, belt buckle and jeans.

  By then, she’d climbed onto the bed and was reaching for the sheet.

  He took her hand. “No. I want to see everything I’ve missed all these years.”

  The light seeping around the motel room drapes showed him the pale perfection of her skin, highlighted by the contrast of twin pink nipples, already pebbled and waiting for him, and a tangled mound of soft blond curls. His body hardened, and his heartbeat thundered in his chest.

  He should let her take the lead, let her unload her anger with some hot, energetic sex. Why not, when working out her aggressions was only going to bring them both to satisfaction?

  Then she bit her lip, and all thoughts of giving her control went by the wayside.

  That flash of uncertainty and the faint vulnerability he’d always been able to see in her eyes did him in. No matter what mask she liked to hide behind, beneath it she was still his same sweet Carly.

  He tossed the covers far out of reach and slid onto the bed beside her. He caught both her hands with one of his and tugged gently upward, resting her hands above her head on the pillow, curving his fingers to encircle her wrists. Her eyes widened. Her lips parted. He didn’t wait for the words. He took her mouth, covering it with his, teasing her with his tongue until they were both gasping for breath again.

  He worked his way slowly downward, kissing her from lips to hips, taking care to honor the highlights he’d seen just a short while ago.

  She bucked against him like an untamed colt testing a restraining lasso. He didn’t have the damned strength to draw this teasing out any longer. He wanted the freedom of his release as much as she wanted hers.

  But not nearly as much as he simply wanted her.

  He scooped her up in his arms, feeling the much-welcome torture of her body pressed against his. He slid his hands down to cup her hips, then watched with pure pleasure as she rose to straddle him.

  “All right, cowgirl,” he urged. “Let’s see you go wild.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Carly woke to find Luke lying with his leg across her hips and his hand resting possessively at her waist.

  The bedside clock read 1:00 a.m. The lights outside the motel came through the chinks around the drapes, making it seem as though a few weak rays of the sun were trying to creep inside.

  She lay there, knowing she was bare except where Luke touched her, feeling wonderfully tender in a few places and fighting the hot blush that rose to her cheeks.

  Last night, they had made love, and it had been as wild as she had promised him the night they’d made
out in the restaurant parking lot after their dinner date. She had been as wild as Luke had encouraged her to be. The hot blush went up a few degrees.

  Only now did she think about how wrong this had been.

  Not the lovemaking or the sex or the anger displacement or whatever they should call it. But the fact that she’d slept with Luke, all the while knowing this couldn’t last—no matter how much she wanted it to.

  He brushed her belly with his thumb.

  Startled, she turned her head.

  He lay watching her, his mouth curved in a smile. “You’re blushing,” he said. “What are you thinking about?”

  “How hot it is in here.”

  “Or about how hot it was in here last night?”

  “Was it?”

  “It was for me, thanks to you.” He reached up to run his finger along her jaw. “Now it’s time for what I promised you.”

  “What would that be?” But she knew, and at the thought alone, her body responded all the way down to her toes.

  “Slow and easy,” he said.

  In the parking lot, he’d shown her with his kisses. Now, he showed her with his hands and body, too.

  As they lay together afterward, he spooned himself around her and held her tight.

  She stared straight ahead at the green-and-gold motel wallpaper and a picture mounted on the wall. The gilt frame made her think of the curio cabinets in his living room.

  He kissed her shoulder, and a shiver went down her spine. She was warm and cozy and...feeling as though Luke really cared.

  And she was keeping something from him that he had always had the right to know.

  She sat up and reached across the space between the two beds to grab the nearest piece of clothing she could find—the blue Western shirt with white snaps and trim she’d watched Luke tear off last night before joining her on the bed. She slipped her arms into the sleeves and held the shirt tightly around her, the way he had just been holding her and never would again.

  The tails of his shirt fell modestly to her knees, but still she shivered. She reached for the sheet and blanket.

  Smiling, Luke propped himself up on one elbow. “You should have told me you’d gotten cold. I would have warmed you up.”

  “Not this kind of cold.” Nothing could take away this bone-deep chill. Nothing could quiet the emotions raging through her, especially the guilt that weighed more heavily on her than the bedclothes she’d just tugged up to her waist. She rested her head against the headboard and sighed.

  Luke sat up to face her. “What’s wrong?”

  “I don’t know how to begin.”

  “You’re still upset about what we heard from Mrs. Lewis last night.”

  It was as good a place as any to start. “About my daddy knowing something? Yes, I’m upset. But you’re right about not jumping to conclusions. I can’t be sure of what happened. Yet. For now, I’m more upset that we didn’t get a definite lead.”

  “Yet,” he repeated. “She might turn up an address for you.”

  “I know. I’m trying not to be too impatient, not to expect more than that. But I’ve got so much wrapped up in finding my mom. So many issues from my childhood I hope she can help me resolve.” So many questions about her mom’s abandonment, her emotions...and her possible struggle with depression...

  She sighed, her breath catching. “My family always called me the wild child, and it gave me something to hang on to, to hide what I was really feeling.” She paused for a long moment. “I’m not like that in Houston. Not like that at all anymore. But since I came back home this last time and saw you again, I’ve been trying to hide by pretending to be that wild girl again.”

  “I know,” he said.

  Surprised, she glanced at him, then looked away. Beneath the covers, she drew her knees up and wrapped her arms around them. “It’s not working, though. Maybe I needed the reputation when I was a kid, but I don’t want it to hang over my future.” She sighed again. “There’s a lot of baggage I’d like to leave behind from back then. Luke, I made a mistake that day you came to the ranch, and I so regret it.”

  “I know. We’ve talked about it.”

  “But it’s more than just regret. I was only a teen—a hurt teen—and I blurted out what I did to hurt you, too. I don’t want you to suffer because of my mistake.”

  “I haven’t. If I’d let that day hang over me, I’d never have taken the manager’s job at the Roughneck. A job,” he added with slow emphasis, “that your daddy offered me.”

  She looked at him again.

  “That’s right.” His expression seemed sad. “You thought, when I quit rodeo, I went to the ranch again, looking for work. Instead, Brock came looking for me.”

  “I’m sorry. I guess I haven’t changed much from that hurt teen.”

  “You’ve changed. A lot.” He rested his hand on her blanket-covered knee. “And you’ve never been a wild girl to me. I’ve always seen who you really are—a girl looking for a place to belong. Finding your mom isn’t going to help with that. It’s something you need to figure out on your own. And I have to tell you, I don’t think you’ll do that through bull riding.”

  Her laugh sounded more like a sob. “I’m sure I won’t. A few rides on Twister were enough to tell me that.”

  “Finding where you belong isn’t as hard as you think, Carly. You only need to make up your mind about where you’d be happiest. The way I decided my place isn’t with the rodeo, but with Rosie.”

  She could barely force herself to admit, “I wish my mom had cared about us the way you love Rosie.”

  “She’s everything.”

  The simple declaration broke her. She swallowed hard, fighting for control, searching for the way to tell him what she needed to share. There was no easy way. She could only tell him the truth.

  “My first months away at school, I missed my family. I missed Kim. But most of all, I missed you.”

  “You never contacted me.”

  “How could I, after the way we split up?” Her voice broke. “I stayed away from home as long as I could, but when I came back on fall break, I needed to see you.”

  “I was easy enough to find.”

  “You and Jodi. I heard you were always together, and had been since the summer. Since not long after you and I broke up. So I left again, without telling you—” a tear ran down her cheek and she dashed it away “—without telling you I was pregnant.”

  His hand tightened on her knee. “What?” He stared into space, and she knew he was rapidly doing the math, counting the weeks from their night in the desert. “You knew before you left for school?”

  “No. Not before. But,” she admitted, “I found out not long after I got to Houston.”

  He cursed under his breath. “Why didn’t you get in touch with me right away?”

  She shrugged. “Hurt teen, again. I didn’t think you would care. And I couldn’t tell anyone else. My daddy would have killed me. The rest of the family would have just chalked it up to my being wild.”

  After what seemed like an hour, he said quietly, “And the baby?”

  The most difficult part for her to share. “Right after I went back from the break, I competed in a fall rodeo. A couple of weeks later, I started spotting.” Tears fell so rapidly, she gave up trying to brush them away. “I was sixteen weeks along when I lost the baby. The doctor said it probably wasn’t from competing but—” Her voice broke.

  He took her into his arms. “Then you’ve got to believe what the doctor said.”

  “But he told me there was a chance. A chance that what I’d done made me lose the baby. He said we’ll never know for sure.”

  He wrapped her in a hug. She felt his sigh ruffle her hair. “No, I guess we won’t.”

  He held her for a long, long time, until her t
ears had stopped flowing and her sobs finally subsided.

  He held her as she drifted into a restless sleep.

  She woke often, sometimes lying drained and tearful from churning emotions, sometimes with her mind racing as she geared up for the fight of her life with Brock the next day.

  Every time she awoke, she found Luke holding her tight.

  * * *

  THEY BARELY SPOKE at all on the drive back to Dallas.

  During the night, Luke had thought Carly would never stop crying. This morning, every time he glanced across the truck’s cab, she sat dry-eyed and staring straight ahead through the windshield.

  She must have had her mind focused partly on the conversation she would soon have with Brock.

  The rest of her thoughts had to be wrapped up in her guilt from the story she’d told him last night.

  Gripping the steering wheel, he turned into the Roughneck’s long drive and tried to think of what he would say to her when he dropped her off at the house.

  The news about the baby had stunned him. How would he have reacted if she’d told him at the time? He couldn’t say. But even at twenty, he knew, he’d have done right by Carly and the child they would have had.

  Yet, last night, after he had thought about Carly and the baby, his mind had flown to Rosie. The child he did have. The daughter he loved.

  Carly couldn’t love her, didn’t even want a family of her own. He had found a reason for that in the way she had always felt lost in the crowd of her family. He could blame her childhood trauma, laying the guilt at her mom’s feet for abandoning them all. But at heart, he couldn’t deny he was partly—a damned big part—at fault for the way Carly felt.

  He pulled into the parking area outside the ranch house. The front door opened abruptly, as if someone inside had been lying in wait for their return.

  At the threshold, Brock sat in his wheelchair.

  “Carly—” Luke began.

  “I see him.” She said the words in a flat tone. For a moment, she stared levelly through the windshield. Then she shoved the door open and climbed from the truck.