by Maisey Yates
The realization that he was going to be a father hit him in waves. Sometimes so intense, so strong it was enough to make his legs shake. And then it receded for a while, the idea back to being a simple concept. A baby that was coming in months. A shadowy picture.
Then there were times when that picture became so vivid . . . a little boy with blond hair just like Kelsey’s and his own dark eyes and stubborn expression. Or a girl with brown curls, like his sister had had when she’d been young.
It was unnerving. And far too real.
“I assumed you were getting laid. I guess I was wrong.” Cade walked into the kitchen and leaned back against the counter, his eyes trained on Cole, his expression smug. Obnoxious, as always.
“Why exactly did you think that?” he asked. He was more curious about what changed his mind, but he wasn’t going to play his brother’s game.
“I figured that’s what Kelsey was here for. I didn’t believe you when you said you hadn’t slept with her.”
“Well, I told you the truth.” He wouldn’t have to ask why Cade had changed his mind, because he knew that Cade would tell him. He was looking far too smug and self-satisfied not to let him in on his revelation.
“I knew it. You’re way too grumpy for a man experiencing regular orgasms from a means other than his right hand.”
Cole’s lip curled up. “Come up with that all by yourself, did you?”
“I did.”
“Great show of deductive reasoning. But if you think your work is done for the day, you’re wrong. Gimp on over to the barn and muck a stall.”
Cade didn’t even flinch as he was hit by the carefully aimed dig. “You ever figure out the money thing? And I mean did you find it, or figure out where it went for sure?”
“Let’s not talk about this now,” he growled.
“See? Grumpy. And defensive. If you need help, ask me, you stubborn asshole.”
“Right, like you ask for help or time off when your leg hurts?”
“My leg is fine.”
“What a coincidence,” Cole said. “I’m fine too. I’m so damn fine it’s not even funny. Everything’s great. The ranch is great.”
“Seems like it.”
“Obviously.”
“You’re as screwed up as I am,” Cole said, jerking the fridge open and pulling out two bottles of beer, handing one to his brother. “So stop standing there with that look on your face. Like you have me figured out. Like you have life figured out. You don’t.”
“I didn’t say I did. But you sure as hell don’t, and if your problems, whatever the hell they are, are starting to bleed over into ranch business, I think I have a right to say something. You would say something to me.”
“Since when do you care about the ranch at all?” he asked, delaying the inevitable by arguing.
“Since it was all I had left. Since you, Lark, and Amber became the only people who seem to even want to talk to me. I can’t ride anymore. I can’t compete. This is my future. This—this dirt clod that I spent my life avoiding—is all I have anymore, and if it doesn’t succeed . . . Well, then I’m a cripple with nothing, and I don’t want that.”
It was the most passionate, true thing Cole had ever heard come from his brother’s mouth. Cade lacked sincerity. It just didn’t seem to exist in him. He’d hobbled back onto the ranch after the rodeo injury had blown out his leg and back and he’d done it with a self-deprecating grin plastered on his face. All through physical therapy, he’d joked. Even when the limp hadn’t gone away, he’d joked. He’d been joking about it for two years. He wasn’t joking now. And he wasn’t wrong.
He owed him. Owed him at least a measure of honesty back. But he didn’t want to give it.
“I’m trying here,” Cole said slowly. “I am. I’m trying to keep things going and I’m trying to . . . I’m trying to protect you and Lark. From the truth. I’ve been lying to you.”
“What about, Cole?” Cade crossed his arms over his chest.
“I know where the money went. It was a payment. I’ve been making payments on a gambling debt of Dad’s.”
Cade nodded slowly. “Got down to it, did you?”
“What do you mean?”
“To the truth. I wondered if you would. I hoped you wouldn’t.”
“What do you know?”
Cade shrugged. “Not details. I mean, nothing certain. But . . . but I knew he wasn’t all we thought. All he tried to show us. I think maybe he let it slip more around me because . . . because he thought I was most like him. Not sure how I feel about that.”
“Dammit, what do you know?”
“About the affair. And . . . all that.”
“What the hell, Cade? You knew, and you never thought . . . ‘Hey, maybe I should tell my brother’?”
“No, Cole, I never thought that,” Cade said, stuffing his hands into his pockets.
“And why the hell not?”
“Because. As far as I was concerned I was privy to the world’s worst secret. And you . . . damn, Cole, you’d been through enough. You shouldered everything. All the responsibility. And things just got so hard at home. Mom died and . . . and then your marriage was hell and dad died. Then what was the point?”
“I don’t know. I’m sorry.” Cole rubbed the back of his neck, a sick feeling spreading through him. He knew how Cade felt. Because he’d felt that way from the moment he’d found out. Like the keeper of this thing, this horrible beast that had the power to shatter everyone’s lives.
“Don’t apologize. It’s too nice. Makes me nervous.”
Cole snorted a laugh, then sobered. “Did Mom . . .?”
“Not as far as I know. I overheard . . . I eavesdropped on a call once. Forever ago. I was in high school. They were talking about the house and money and when he’d visit. And a kid.”
“You knew all that time and you didn’t tell anyone?”
“To what end, Cole? Why? So everyone could be as disappointed as I was? Why do you think I wanted to get out of here so bad? Hypocrisy burns like a son of a bitch.”
Cole let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. He wondered if he’d been holding his breath for the better part of a year. “We have to pay his debts off or we’re in danger of losing the ranch, basically because we reinvested all the inheritance money. But I have a plan.”
“How bad?”
“Not too bad.”
“What kind of debts?”
“Gambling. A car.”
A muscle ticked in Cade’s jaw. “He bought her a house and stuff, didn’t he?”
“Yeah. That stuff they could repossess though. And they did. He never saw the kid. Not more than a few times.”
Cade looked out the window. “I figured. And that’s where the fifteen grand went?”
“Yep.”
“How much is left? How much do we have left to deal with?”
“Some more.” He named a figure that made Cade’s eyebrows shoot halfway up his forehead. “I know. But everything is looking promising with these horses, and I have buyers interested in them, rodeo officials who want to pick some of them up for the finals in Vegas. As long as this keeps going, everything’s going to be fine.”
“And you’re sure this is going through?”
“Wouldn’t hurt if you used your connections to grease the wheels.”
“I can do that. But damn, Cole how hard is it to just ask?”
“Hard,” Cole said, pushing his hand through his hair. “Especially when you’re afraid asking is going to blow up the family.”
Cade nodded. “So we both know.”
“Yeah.”
“And Lark doesn’t.”
“Nope.”
“Keep it that way?”
Cole tapped the side of his beer bottle. “I don’t know. I don’t like being a part of the deception.”
“We didn’t lie, Cole; he did.”
“But we know the truth. Do we keep covering for him?”
“He never covered for us. He’d te
ll Mom on us, and then she’d whup our asses.”
Cole laughed. Sometimes the memories were still good. They still seemed intact and not just like a facade that hadn’t meant a damn thing. “Yeah, he did. But he’s not alive to answer for it, or learn from it.”
“How about we drink alcohol and make no decisions?”
“I’m cool with that.”
Cade took the bottle opener off the fridge and popped the top off his beer, taking a long drink. “And you really aren’t sleeping with Kelsey?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“What the hell kind of question is that? Why aren’t you sleeping with . . . Amber Jameson?” He chose the name of Cade’s oldest friend on purpose.
Cade took a step back. “She’s my friend, that’s why.”
“Well, fine. Kelsey’s a friend then.”
“You don’t know her that well, do you?”
“I’m getting to know her.”
Cade raised an eyebrow. “With the intent of . . . not sleeping with her?”
“Women are just people, Cade. People who are worth getting to know.”
“People with breasts. Which means it’s rare to make friends with one just to be friends with one.”
“And Amber?”
Cade looked stricken at the mention. “I knew her before she had breasts, so she doesn’t count.”
“I’m sure she’d love to hear that.”
“She won’t.” His eyes narrowed in warning. “Ever. Now seriously, what’s the deal with you and Kelsey?”
“Shit, Cade, can’t we just hug it out instead of standing here talking about feelings?”
“I’m curious.”
“And I’m not telling you anything. I’m not even sure why you care.”
“Because don’t think I haven’t noticed you’ve barely talked to a woman since the debacle with Shawna, the ex-wife from hell.”
Cole looked studied his beer bottle. “You don’t know everything about me.”
“I wish that were true. I wish you weren’t so easy to read, so I didn’t have to feel worried about you. Or so aware that you’re still punishing yourself for that epic fail of a marriage.”
“Like you’ve been dating up a storm for the past year.”
“This isn’t about me.”
Cole angled his bottle in Cade’s direction. “But it could be.”
“Fine. You win. Enough with the Dr. Phil crap.” Cade took another long drink of his beer. “Does this mean I can hit on Kelsey?”
“Still a firm ‘hell, no.’”
“Great. When you’re ready, you tell me what that’s about.”
He’d have to eventually. But not until he’d talked it over with Kelsey. “Yeah, I will. Why do you care so much all of a sudden?”
Cade shrugged. “I don’t have anything else to do. And like I said . . . you and Lark and this ranch are all I have. Makes you cling to things tighter when you realize how easy it is to lose them.”
Not for the first time, Cole felt a twinge of pity for his brother, which he knew would get him punched in the face if he voiced it out loud. Cade’s injury had cost him his passion. The revelation about their dad had cost them both their memories. They were pros at experiencing loss.
“Well, we’re honored. Why don’t you go bother Lark? I’m sure she’d love to tell you all about the new social media project she’s working on to make our ranch a world famous destination.”
“Thanks for the warning,” Cade said, backing out of the kitchen. “I’ll avoid her.”
Cole shook his head and turned, slapping the top of his beer bottle on the counter and popping off the cap.
“Hi.” He turned and saw Kelsey standing in the door of the kitchen, looking . . . Well, she was glowing. That pregnant woman glow, maybe? Or just the sun hitting her face at the right time. Either way, she looked hot, and he noticed.
“What brings you down here?”
“I realized I didn’t give you an answer about staying,” she said.
He shook his head. “No, you didn’t.”
She stood, her hands in her back pockets, rocking back on forth on the balls of her feet, her eyes not meeting his. He found himself fighting the urge to reach out and take her chin between his thumb and forefinger. To tilt her head so that she had to look at him. So that her lips were so close to his a slight movement would—
“What did you decide?” he said, cutting off his thoughts.
“I’ll stay. I don’t know how long, but I’ll stay.”
Chapter Twelve
“I’m leaving, you know. Tonight,” Alexa said, putting heavy emphasis on the word.
Tyler felt a sharp pang in his gut. Something close to regret. But he wasn’t going to change tactics, not now. Alexa had stormed to the back of the barn, her cheeks flushed, a few minutes earlier, and she‘d been loitering while he’d been working on transferring a manure pile from the dirt to the bed of a pickup. Not the most romantic setting, but such was life on a ranch.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said, throwing one last shovelful into the pickup bed and driving the head of the shovel down into the dirt, then leaning against the handle.
Alexa breathed heavily, an overdramatic sigh. She didn’t say anything. She only looked at him, her annoyance and confusion so obvious it would have been funny if she didn’t have him so tied up in knots.
“What is it, Alex?” he asked, knowing full well what it was.
“I’m leaving . . . and . . . and nothing happened between us.”
He wouldn’t go that far. But he got that in her mind, it was nothing if it hadn’t made it into the bedroom. And that just wasn’t the way he did things.
“A lot has happened between us,” he said.
“What? You kissed me once.”
“And I enjoyed it. Did you?”
“If I didn’t I wouldn’t be a ball of sexually frustrated energy right now.”
“I’m not really that sorry for you,” he said.
“Why is that? You cheeky bastard.”
He chuckled. “I’d rather leave you wanting more of me than have you leave feeling done with me.”
“I live in New York,” she said blandly.
“So?”
“And I’m not ever going to move to a ranch to be a housewife for a man with muddy boots.”
He couldn’t picture Alexa as a housewife. Couldn’t picture her baking, or scrubbing anything. “I know how to cook, and I know how to clean my own boots. So I wouldn’t worry too much.”
“Why are you saying things like that? We hardly know each other.”
“You’re the one who brought up being a housewife.”
“Oh.” She bit her lip.
He reached forward and cupped her cheek. Her skin was so soft. So perfect. She was perfect, and he knew, absolutely knew, she had no idea just how perfect. “I like you. I’d like to get to know you better. I’d like to do that outside of the bedroom.”
He’d like to do it in the bedroom too, but not yet. It just wasn’t how he did things. It wasn’t how he was raised to treat a woman. Wasn’t how he believed relationships should work. And he could tell it was exactly what she thought should happen; that it was what she did. “Let me take a wild guess at how your relationships usually work,” he said.
“I wish you wouldn’t.”
“I’m going to anyway.”
She sighed. “Fine.”
“You think you have a connection with someone. You sleep with them, and then you get to say it reached its conclusion, but wasn’t a lasting kind of connection. Am I right?”
“I . . . I . . .” She frowned. “I’m never at a loss for words. How do you do this?”
“It’s a gift, I guess. Do you want to know why your connections are never the real thing?”
“No way in hell. But I bet you’re about to tell me.”
“Yep. They’re never anything because you don’t give them a chance. Sex is great—I like it as much as the next guy—but
it’s not going to help you get to know someone. Not really. And if you’re looking to make something stick by using sex as the glue, without even trying to have conversation or emotion, it’s not going to work.”
“I’m not trying to make anything stick,” she said. “Maybe I don’t want love and marriage and all that crap.”
“Maybe you don’t. But I doubt it. Either way, I’m not someone who can do casual sex. I’ve tried it, and I don’t like it. I need feelings first.”
“Why?” she practically exploded, her petite frame vibrating. “No other guy ever, in the world, needs feelings for sex. They just need sex.”
“That’s bull. And why are you so desperate to pretend it’s true? Because you want to sleep with me so you can scratch the itch and call it done. Because that’s what you do. But not with me, Alex.”
“I’m going back to New York,” she said tightly. “And I won’t think about you again. You’re just a guy I knew for a couple of weeks.”
“That’s a bigger pile than I have in this truck,” he said, taking his gloves off and throwing them on the ground, letting the shovel fall with them.
He hooked his arm around her waist and pulled her up against him, his lips hovering above hers. “I’m going to kiss you now. And you’re going to think of it the whole flight home.” He dipped his head and kissed her.
Not sweet like the other night. Not even close. She parted her lips for him and he slid his tongue against hers, the soft slide sending a shot of heat straight to his cock. He knew the moment she felt him hard against her, because that was when the game changed. When she decided she would beat him. He could feel it in the shift of her movements, could feel her trying to take control.
She bit his lower lip softly and soothed the sting away with her tongue, her hands sliding down his chest, gripping his belt buckle. And she just about undid all of his good intentions with those actions. Just about.
He wrenched his lips from hers and took her hands in his, raising them to his mouth and pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles.
“I know I’ll be thinking about you,” he said. “I’ll definitely call you.”
She narrowed her eyes and reached into her purse, tugging a business card out and thrusting it into his hand. “You have forty-eight hours. Call by then or lose my number. I’m not playing your game.”
