by J. C. Wilder
“No, with your feet,” Sissy snorted. “Hell, you’re how old? Thirty-six—”
“Twenty-nine,” she snapped.
“Now that’s just pathetic, Kara. At your age ya still haven’t learned anything useful other than baton twirling and how to convert oxygen into carbon dioxide.”
Both Ry and Cowboy burst out laughing, and it only got louder when Kara shot them a dirty look. Propping her hands on her hips, Sissy waited for the comeback she could see rattling around in her friend’s head.
“Oh, yeah?” Kara’s cheeks turned pink. “Well, well, I know what you are but what am I?”
Unable to help herself, Sissy laughed. “Ooh, now that one hurt.”
“Damn it, Sis. You get me every time.”
The front door slammed again, and Gemma, the youngest Diver, walked in. Her eyes were red and puffy in her too-pale face. “What’s going on?”
Cowboy pushed his chair back from the table. “Kara was hoisted by her own petard.”
“What?” Gemma blinked.
“Meaning, I started a war of words and Sissy just wiped me across the floor…again.” Kara groaned. “No one can out trash-talk our Sissy.”
A tall figure moved to stand behind Gem, and Sissy’s knees went weak. “You’ll find no arguments here,” he said.
Ranger.
Even from across the kitchen she felt the impact of his gaze. Goose bumps raced over her arms. For the first time his expression was closed to her and sorrow pierced her heart. She turned away.
“Come on, Beauty Queen. I’m gonna teach ya how to make bread.”
His life would never be the same.
Jace stood in front of his open bedroom window letting the night sounds surround him. He’d survived a life-threatening injury in the line of duty, had been thrown off a horse more times than he could count, and jumped out of the barn loft on several occasions, and he was still standing. He’d never imagined that a simple text message held the power to bring him to his knees.
911.
Instinctively he’d known it would be bad. His family didn’t contact him while he was undercover unless it was urgent. Even as he’d dialed Cowboy’s number he’d hoped it was something minor. An illness or maybe an accident at the ranch and his twin wanted to give him a heads up. Bracing his fists on each side of the window, he allowed his head to drop forward.
Never, ever would he have imagined that it would be Pops.
When he was away from home, Jace always made it a point to call the ranch every three days or so. Even with his children grown, that didn’t stop Pops from worrying about them. The last time they’d talked was a couple of days ago and he’d mentioned being concerned about Gemma. She was due to leave for college in another month, and she was still fighting him about going. Even though he’d been exasperated with her bullheadedness, Jace heard the pride in his words.
I love all my children, but there isn’t a one of you I didn’t want to strangle at some point. Being a father was the most rewarding job I ever had. A man rests easier when he knows his legacy will continue to live on after he’s gone.
It felt strange to be back home without his father around. Moisture scorched Jace’s eyes as the band around his chest tightened. More than anything he wished he’d spent less time working and more time on the ranch. Over and over again he’d told himself there would be time for that later. Well, today that time ran out.
Tilting his head, he winced when his neck gave a twinge. Frank left behind some mighty big boots to fill, and he wasn’t sure he would ever be up to the task. If he could be only a quarter of the man his father was then he’d be doing just fine.
A light came on in the loft of the tool shed. The converted barn earned its nickname because the mechanical equipment was stored there. It was one of Ryan’s favorite places. Armed with his guitar, he often escaped to the loft when he wanted some privacy.
After the day they’d had it wasn’t surprising everyone had scattered at the first opportunity. Ryan to the shed, Josie to the library with her head in a book, Cowboy shut himself in his room with his girlfriend, Pip, and Gemma was curled up in bed with a four-foot tall teddy bear she’d received when she was three.
That left only him. If he wanted to find solace, where would he look?
Sissy.
Weary, he flopped down on his bed. The chances of that door still being open to him were slim to none. She had quite the poker face, but he’d caught the flash of pain in her eyes when she saw him. For the rest of the day she’d made it a point to avoid him. He’d spoken to her, well, he’d tried to speak to her, and her responses were cool and painfully polite. But it wasn’t her anger that surprised him.
It was how much he’d counted on, no, needed them to be okay again.
When he heard the news she was the first person who came to mind. She was the one he turned to when he needed an ear, but she wasn’t there. Their easy rapport was gone, and their friendship reduced to that of polite strangers. He raked his hands through his hair. It was selfish and naïve to think they could ignore what happened and go back to being friends.
It wasn’t until he saw her in the kitchen that he realized how much he missed her.
All day she’d worked in the kitchen, baking, cooking and assigning tasks with the efficiency of a general. Practical to a fault, she knew how to put aside her feelings and do what needed to be done. And with each passing hour she worked he felt even worse.
With her big personality and bigger sense of humor, Sissy made it easy to forget she was hurting too. She’d spent a lot of time here at the Sun, and she adored his father. Losing Pop was a devastating blow but at least Jace had his brothers and sisters to help him through.
Sissy had no one.
Rolling off the bed, Jace stalked to his dresser to get a clean shirt. She might be mad at him, but he wasn’t going to give up on her now. Chances were good that she’d gone on home already so he’d have to drive over to her place. Grabbing his favorite cowboy boots, he jogged down the back staircase to the kitchen. Someone had left the light on over the stove and his eyes went wide when he saw the results of Sissy’s marathon baking session.
The counters were filled with a dozen loaves of homemade bread, bags of dinner rolls, fruit pies and a mountain of fat muffins. Even Kara’d jumped in to help knead pounds of bread dough. It’d shocked the hell out of him as he never knew she had a domestic bone anywhere in her body. Her claim to culinary excellence was having every restaurant’s take-out number programmed into her iPhone.
Ignoring his noisy stomach, Jace reached the door only to realize he’d yet to put on his boots. Bracing his shoulder against the wall, he saw something out of the corner of his eye that stopped him cold.
Chapter Four
For a split second he was seventeen years old again, and Pops had just caught him trying to sneak out of the house. The goal was to hook-up with a seventeen-going-on-thirty-year-old daughter of a neighbor. But his old man had known what his middle son was up to. In the darkness he’d waited patiently, seated in his favorite armchair, until Jace made his move.
Jace shook away the memory, and his gaze narrowed. The chair was rocking, and he could clearly discern the shape of his father’s dark head. The familiar intensity of his gaze moved over Jace’s face then he caught a flash of a smile before it faded.
Shaken, he scrambled for a logical explanation, but there was none to be had. Pops was dead. He’d seen the body with his own two eyes. Yet the chair was rocking, and it was his father he’d seen. Pushing away the urge to reach for his weapon, Jace’s neck prickled as he moved toward the chair.
It wasn’t until he was less than a foot away that he realized it was Sissy.
With her legs draped over one arm and her head propped against the back of the chair, Sissy was sound asleep. Around her waist she still wore the makeshift apron she’d fashioned from a kitchen towel and she held a pie plate cradled in her arms. Her ponytail had fallen and long golden hair cascaded over her shoulders
. She looked exhausted, smelled like a cinnamon bun and he was pretty sure he’d never see anything more beautiful in his life.
Warmth stole through his body to melt the tension in his chest. For the first time since coming home he felt as if he could take a deep breath.
Jace removed the plate from her limp arms then returned it to the kitchen. When he took her into his arms he was both charmed and humbled when she sighed and snuggled deeper into his embrace. He carried her up to his bedroom, and it wasn’t until he laid her on his bed that she stirred.
“Ranger?”
He loved how she said his name in that sleepy, sexy voice. Her southern accent was heavier, if that were possible, and her words slurred ever so slightly. Somehow she added at least four more syllables until it came out sounding like ‘rainnnnnnn-juh’.
“Yeah, babe.”
“Were ya carryin’ me?”
“I was.” He removed her pink flip-flops. Why hadn’t he noticed how delicate her ankles were? Her feet were long and slim with the toenails painted something dark. The moonlight caught the flash of a silver band around one toe. “You fell asleep in the chair twisted up like a human pretzel.”
“I hate it when that happens,” she mumbled. “I need a shower.”
“Later, sweetheart. You’re exhausted and need to sleep.”
Eyeing her shorts, he wondered if he could remove them without waking her fully. Deciding she would be more comfortable without them, he released the button and eased down the zipper.
“You’re not to take advantage of me.” He heard the amusement in her slurred words. “Or at least wait until I’m awake.”
“How do you take advantage of the willing?”
“I’m still mad as hell at ya.” Her yawn was deep and lusty. “I’m gonna kick your ass tomorrow, remind me?”
“Sure, I’ll remind you.” He swallowed a snort of laughter. “Go to sleep, Sis.”
Easing off her shorts, he left them folded on the corner of his dresser before stripping down to his boxers and sliding into bed beside her. When he reached for her, she melted into him like warm wax dripping off a candlestick. Her head came to rest on his shoulder bringing with it the scent of cinnamon and vanilla in her hair. It felt right, holding her in his arms.
Was this love? This sense of homecoming he felt when they were together? He didn’t know for sure. What did he know about love? He loved his family, but he’d never told a woman he wasn’t related to that he loved her.
After Sophie died they’d spent the next six months in a fog. He remembered all too well his father’s struggle to handle the ranch, a four-month-old baby and four other children. Night after night he and Cowboy would sneak downstairs to sit outside their father’s bedroom and listen to his muffled sobs—
Jace's eyes flew open and the present came back with a rush. He’d completely forgotten about those nights he and Cowboy spent outside their father’s door. They ended when Ryan caught them and took them to his room to bed down. Damn, even now the memories of those long, dark days were still painful.
Looking back, he didn’t know if it was conscious or not when he’d decided to never fall in love. At ten years old his rationale was as long as he didn’t love then his heart could never be broken. That was before he met Sissy. Absently, he rubbed the ache in his chest located suspiciously near his heart.
What the hell did a ten-year-old kid know?
Before Sissy opened her eyes she knew there were rough seas ahead. Sweat broke out on her forehead when her stomach performed a lazy roll. Her jaw clenched as she mentally composed a list of items needed to stave off the looming storm.
Saltine crackers were in her purse.
Cold lemon soda was in the veggie bin of the refrigerator.
And the most important component was privacy to worship the porcelain god.
Sitting up, she lost precious seconds when she realized she didn’t know where she was. It was only when she saw the black ballistics vest emblazoned with POLICE that she realized whose bed she was in. She barely had time to assimilate that Jace was asleep on the far side of the bed before she was on the move. Clamping one hand over her mouth, she stumbled across the room then out the door and into the bathroom next door.
A few minutes later Sissy was sprawled on yet another bathroom floor. This time she didn’t wish for death though she did enjoy imagining a variety of torments raining down on Jace’s sleeping head. It wasn’t fair that he was still in bed while she was freezing her ass off on a cold tile floor. Men should be made to suffer alongside—
Strike that.
Who wanted to puke in front of a man they’d had sex with?
Eww, not sexy at all.
Her hands came to rest on her non-existent baby bump. Now what? She was pregnant, and Jace needed to be told, but how? Sissy was pretty sure that whacking him upside the head and yelling, “Hey, jackass, the rabbit died”, wasn’t going to cut it.
It was too subtle.
She needed time to think this through. Her mind still grappled with the reality that they’d created a baby. Thinking too hard about how to tell him would probably trigger a meltdown. She sighed. Maybe it was best to wait until after the funeral. With Frank’s death he had to be overwhelmed—
A knock sounded on the door, and her gasp turned to a groan when her nausea returned.
“Sissy? It’s Josie. Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” Her voice sounded like she’d spent the night smoking cigars.
“I’m coming in.”
Before she could form a reply Josie slipped into the room and closed the door. While her brothers looked distinctively Native American, Josie’s origins weren’t as clearly defined. Her features were finely wrought with dainty brows, a slim nose, large brown eyes and lips that put Angelina to shame. Even with her dark brown hair in a sloppy ponytail and wearing a baggy OSU T-shirt, she looked young and fresh. The last time Sissy felt fresh was in the third grade.
“What can I do for you?” Josie busied herself with wetting a washcloth, which she laid against the back of Sissy’s neck.
“Crackers, saltines, in my purse,” she whispered. “Soda in the veggie bin.”
“Gotcha. Be right back.”
After she left, Sissy pulled a large towel off of the bar overhead to cover herself. It was the second day in a row someone found her on a bathroom floor half naked. If this kept up she wouldn’t have to worry about telling anyone as it would be all over town before Friday.
Josie returned a few minutes later with a cellophane sleeve of saltines and a can of 7UP complete with a straw. “Here you go.”
“Thanks.” She gave her a faint smile. “I don’t know what hit me this mornin’. Too much runnin’ around yesterday I guess.”
“Who do you think you’re fooling, Sis?” Josie sank to the floor beside her. “Did you forget I’m only a year away from a degree in veterinary medicine?”
“Great. So, doctor, what? Hoof and mouth disease or a little mad cow?” Her tone was bland.
“Well, you were frothing at the mouth…” Her grin was contagious. “What is it you always say? I may have been born yesterday, but that doesn’t mean it was last night.” She gently poked Sissy’s leg. “Did I ever mention that my roommate is in her second trimester?”
Stunned, Sissy forgot she was drinking when she sucked in some air. Soda went down the wrong way, and she began coughing. Josie grabbed her arm and helped her to sit upright before pounding her on the back.
“Is your roommate human?” Sissy gasped.
“Only until she kicked caffeine, now she’s the devil.” Josie snorted. “So, how far along are you?”
“Three weeks.” When Josie shoved a tissue box into her hands she realized tears were running down her cheeks. “You’re only the second person to know.” She sniffed. “Well, not countin’ me.”
“Aren’t I lucky?” Josie leaned in close. “So, who’s the daddy?”
The question stung even though Sissy knew Josie meant no harm. Once he
r pregnancy became public fodder the first question was bound to be the identity of the baby daddy. It would then be followed up with a rehashing of the latest lewd stories making the rounds. The fact that Jace was the only man she’d slept with in years wouldn’t matter because who wanted the truth when fiction was far more interesting?
“You’re not at the top of your class, are ya? I’m sittin’ in your brother’s bathroom, and I’m half naked, what does that tell ya?”
“Woo hoo, it’s about damned time,” she crowed. “Hell hath frozen over in Haven.”
Sissy glared at her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Do you remember my twelfth birthday and the party at the pond?” A teasing light entered her eyes. “My friends came over and…”
Sissy received her very first kiss.
How could she forget it? They’d been swimming all afternoon and Jace maneuvered her into the shadows beneath the willow tree. When his arms came around her, she could hardly breathe and then he kissed her. His lips were cool, and he tasted of soda and temptation. She’d never felt anything as wonderful as his hard body pressed against hers. It was in the heat of that lazy summer day that she fell head over heels in love with him.
“Vaguely,” she lied.
Josie rolled her eyes. “You’re full of it. I saw you two under the tree and when you came out, both of you looked like you’d been struck by lightning.”
Her cheeks burned. “Did not.”
“When Pops called everyone to eat he got mad cause Jace…would…wouldn’t get out of the w-water.” Josie was laughing so hard she was gasping for air.
Amusement bubbled up and Sissy could no longer hold her laughter in check. They’d been so young then. Jace was seventeen, almost a man already and too old for her. At fifteen, she already had a body that gave guys the wrong idea. On that particular day she’d swiped her mama’s pink bikini in the hopes of catching the eye of a certain boy…and it worked.
“Well, maybe somethin’ important came up,” she drawled.
