by Tori Kayson
“My mother likes you. I’m sure that’s not a problem. Even if that means she has to bunk with Kierra.” A smile curved his lips.
“The feeling’s mutual. But I would never dream of banishing her from her own room.”
The gentle rocking. A starry night. Fargo’s clean, spicy fragrance. Tingles as his thumb caressed and warmed her hand. The raw hunger gnawing…
A recipe for trouble. That’s what it was. But her rebellious limbs refused to budge.
They rocked in comfortable silence for a few minutes. Suddenly the swing stopped its creaking, and his weight shifted toward her.
She slid her palm up his chest to settle on his work-hardened shoulder. Lifted her face to welcome his mouth.
His kiss was gentle and whisper soft at first. Then it deepened into something she had no experience with…a kiss that offered a promise. That hinted at a future. That made her long for something she knew wasn’t possible.
She pulled back a fraction. Just enough to disconnect their lips. Even so, he buried his mouth against her neck and nipped at a sensitive spot, sending shivers of delight to race up and down her arms.
His arm tightened around her waist. He sampled another nibble from the corner of her mouth. “Mmmm. You taste…amazing.”
“Amazing, huh?” Her fingertips traced the curve of his jaw, her body trembling with need, longing. Maybe even spiked with a healthy dose of fear.
She brokered multi-million dollar deals. She researched and developed innovative methods of drilling to protect the environment. But two kisses from Fargo? Rocked her very core. Tilted her entire world out of kilter.
He lifted his head, hooded lashes masking his emotions. He exhaled, deep and ragged, and slid a tuft of her hair back behind an ear. His full lips mesmerized. “Where is this going?” he asked, his voice throaty.
“I know where I’d like it to go.” She met his heady gaze.
“Yeah?” One golden brow arched.
“Yeah!” She threaded fingers through his short hair, tugging—
Her cell phone vibrated against her thigh. Her hands stilled. She closed her eyes and leaned back against the swing, frustration crashing over her.
“Sorry. I have to get this. It could be Kate.” She dug the phone out of her pocket and scrolled through her messages.
One from Kate. Labor started. Headed to the hospital. See you here?
“It is Kate! She’s having the baby!” Joy exploded. She bolted off the swing.
But the time? Three hours ago? How had she missed it? She pulled up a more recent one from Darren. Blood pressure spiking. Doc’s concerned, talking C-section. Kate’s worried. Wants you here. Can you come?
“Oh no!” she groaned and covered her mouth.
Boots thundered across the deck, and Fargo’s arm curled around her back, comforting.
“It’s not going well.” Her fingers shook as she texted back. Just got text. Be there asap!
“Sounds like she’ll need her friend there. Let me fetch Jayce and we’ll run you to the hospital.”
§
Fargo’s boots thumped across the tile in the narrow hospital corridor. The television blared from the waiting room. Jayce moaned and shifted in his sleep, long legs stretched out, arms twisted like a pretzel. A pair of soon-to-be grandparents shared the space, their excited jabber about their impending grandbaby’s arrival reaching him in the hall and pinging him in the chest.
A baby girl.
Longing swelled with enough force to bring him to his knees.
He pivoted and stalked to the other end of the hall where the clock glared the time in bold red numbers. Two hours since Darby disappeared behind the double doors.
He raked his hair and stared at the glass pane, willing Darby to reemerge.
She hadn’t asked them to wait, not exactly. Not in words. But the hopeful look on her face warred with the worry for her friend when she’d twisted around. Her fingers threaded through his while her other hand braced against the door, as if she were torn between two worlds.
That hope, that worry, anchored him to the confines of this tight space. How could he not be here for her if something went wrong?
His eyes blurred. For a minute, he’d swear Darby materialized through the glass. But, no.
Coffee. He needed coffee. He swiveled and nudged Jayce in the arm. “Jayce.”
“Huh?” Jayce mumbled without opening his eyes.
“I’ll be right back. I’m going to get a cup of coffee.”
Another burst of incoherent rambling.
He glanced around the room, collided with the older man’s gaze.
“Don’t worry. We’ll look out for him.”
“Thanks.” He nodded and dug in his pocket for money.
“Fargo?” A hand curled around his shoulder. Jasmine and roses drifted his way, replacing the sterile antiseptic scent that clung to his clothes.
“Darby.” He twisted, snaking his arm around her waist in one motion.
She burrowed herself against his chest. Her shoulders shook with her sobs.
He let her take her time, get it all out, enjoying her touch entirely too much. What if he hadn’t stayed?
Finally, she sniffled and pulled back to swipe at her red splotched face.
He wrapped his hands around her nape, caressed her cheeks with both thumbs. “Kate all right?”
She nodded and sniffed again, her espresso eyes shimmering with joy. “Both Kate and the baby came through like real troopers. But the doctor warned that the next twenty four hours are crucial.”
Her beauty radiated, wave after luscious wave.
Love stirred, tender yet brave…
Love? He gulped. The shock of the unfinished poem rattled through his head, paralyzing him.
“Thank you for staying. I didn’t realize you were still here. But she just now delivered, and I figured mom and dad should have a private moment with Braxton.” She smiled at him, but her gaze flicked to the nurse who squeezed by.
“She did? Did you hear that, Emma? We’re grandparents!” The old man hugged his wife. The pair celebrated with a dance around the waiting room.
The nurse rolled her eyes and grinned. She waited for the duo to finish then motioned for them to follow.
The man paused beside them. His gaze swung to Jayce and back. “We waited a long time for this little lady to arrive. Children are such a blessing. Don’t stop with just one.” He patted Fargo’s shoulder and jogged to catch up to his wife.
Darby sucked in a breath. Her cheeks sported a pretty rose color.
“The man makes a good point.” He made no effort to corral the smile.
“Yeah, well, he thought…I better get back.” A blanket of curls tumbled across Darby’s face, hiding her expression.
He could fix that. He tugged her hips toward him then laced his arms around her back. Kissed her lightly on the forehead.
She lifted her face and closed her eyes, a clear invitation for more.
Smiling, he obliged. His mouth lingered on hers, tasting, teasing, enjoying. Until footsteps padded by in the hall and reminded him they weren’t alone.
He broke away. “Can I get you some coffee?”
“No, thanks.” Her finger traced his lips. Her gaze dawdled there, too. “Why don’t you guys go home? I’m going to stay in town until the doc clears Kate.”
He smiled, but inside his heart fissured.
Would she ever make it back out to the ranch? Or would the lure of her career and big city living call her home?
~ CHAPTER 14 ~
Darby’s hand trailed baby Braxton’s arm, ending at his fingernails.
Darren had finally snuck out to grab a bite to eat. The only reason she’d gotten any cuddle time.
The baby’s tiny fingers curled around hers and squeezed. She smiled. “Guess he didn’t need those few extra weeks, and the blood pressure issue didn’t seem to bother him. He’s perfect.”
“Admit it,” Kate said, her voice competing with the beeps of the various machines in the
room. The fatigue from yesterday’s labor faded the moment Braxton snuggled in her arms, replaced by an inner radiance.
“Admit what?” Darby asked, sparing only a quick glance at her best friend before settling back on Braxton.
His mouth opened in a wide yawn but only a slight mewling emerged. “Oh, that’s adorable.”
“That you want one.”
“Want one?” she stuttered. Her startled gaze jerked toward Kate.
Kate laughed, her dark hair splaying against the stark white sheet.
If her friend hadn’t just popped a baby from her belly the day before, Darby would chunk a pillow at her. “What’s so funny?”
“You. The fear on your face.”
“Yeah, well, you know my father. Fear is understandable, right?”
Sympathy spread across Kate’s face. She shook her head. “Sweetie, you would be a wonderful parent. You’re nothing like your father.”
“My mother wasn’t any better. Worse, actually. At least, I see my father.”
“During staff meetings.”
She winced at Kate’s dry tone. “I recognize my parental limitations.”
Did she? Really? Because right now she couldn’t deny that this little man wrapped himself around her heart as tightly as her finger. Pint sized maternal storks fluttered to life in her belly, opening a void that nothing else would fill.
Well, maybe Fargo’s scorcher of a kiss would do the trick. Heat blazed up her neck.
“And I’d bet my first year home with this wee one that you’re not thinking about work right now. So, who’s the guy?”
Darby’s jaw dropped. She considered denying it, but Kate knew her too well.
“Fargo Kester.”
Kate eyebrows disappeared into her bangs. “A Kester? Really?”
She nodded. Her lips curved just saying the cowboy’s name aloud. Warmed her tummy.
Or was that Braxton? She held him out and checked her lap. Not him. Must be the cowboy.
“Be careful, Darby. I’d hate to see you get hurt again.”
“Me, too.”
“Did they sign the contract?”
Darby shook her head.
“Uh oh. Bet that didn’t go over well with Big Daddy.” Worry lines etched Kate’s forehead.
“He’s aware of it. I’m using vacation.”
“To buy more time?”
“That might have crossed my mind in the beginning, but I actually enjoy it there. Life’s more relaxed—”
“That’s because you’re on vacation.”
“Maybe. But it’s also giving me a chance to get to know Fargo, to explore a relationship with a man who values me. Not just the size of my father’s company.”
“True,” Kate agreed.
Braxton interrupted, jutting both arms in the air and howling.
“He’s hungry,” Kate said.
Holding Braxton tight against her chest, Darby stood and waited for Kate. “How do you know he doesn’t just need a diaper change?”
Kate covered her breasts with her hands. “These babies are screaming.”
“Oh.”
“He’ll probably fall asleep after he nurses, so you’ll need to change his diaper first.” Kate made no move to get out of the bed. Something sly and mischievous flitted across her face.
“Me?”
Had Kate lost a few brain cells during labor? What if she dropped him? Or allowed him to roll off the table?
“You’ll do fine. Come on.” Suddenly Kate was at her side. Gripping Darby’s arm, she practically dragged her to the changing table. “I’ll walk you through it.”
Darby hesitated. “Is there a proper way to—”
“Just set him down as if you were transferring him to my arms. Make sure you support his neck and head.”
“All right.” She carefully set the twisting bundle on the table. What started as an insignificant wail had grown progressively louder. Those miniature arms still poked at the air. “Mercy. He’s wound up.”
Kate pressed a diaper into her hand.
She studied it, scrunching her nose. “Seems like somebody could have designed a diaper with a little more substance.”
Kate laughed. “So much for not thinking about work.”
“Work might be the better option over figuring out how to wrap that flimsy piece of—”
“Just change the diaper already. You could have had it done,” Kate said, shaking her head, smiling.
Darby unsnapped the little onesie and tugged off the wet diaper. “Now what?”
“Put the clean one on the table with the sticky things in the back and unfold it. Then, you’ll need to reposition Braxton so that he’s on top of it.”
Darby did as Kate instructed.
“Now just fold the flap over—”
A steady stream of pee squirted, dousing her hand and leaving a tiny wet mark on her shirt. “Oh!”
“Oops.” Chuckling, Kate flicked the diaper flap over the little boy parts.
Darby made quick work taping the two pieces together. “Can you finish dressing him while I wash my hands?”
“Ha! And let you off the hook? Not a chance. I’ll hold him in place while you wash,” Kate said, grinning.
Darby scowled, but moved over to the sink.
Kate waved a rattle through the air, distracting him. The little guy’s eyes followed the colorful toy.
“He stopped crying.”
“Won’t last long, I’m sure.” Kate’s dry tone reassured.
Darby slid in next to the table and reconnected Braxton’s onesie. She heaved a huge sigh when the task was complete without loss of life or limb.
“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Kate commented, scooping her son off the table and pressing her nose against the little one’s nose.
“It’s a good thing you have an extensive wardrobe. I wonder how many changes of clothes you’ll both go through in the first few days.”
Kate smiled, a dreamy expression on her face as she toted the precious cargo back to the bed. She scooted back on the mattress, making maneuvering with the wiggling bundle look so easy. “It doesn’t matter. It’s all worth it.”
Darby flopped down in the chair, willing her muscles to loosen up. She hadn’t mortally wounded the kid. All was good.
Kate unlatched the strap on her nursing tank top and cradled Braxton to her breast. Braxton’s greedy sucking noises replaced the wailing.
She’d never regretted sidelining her desire for a family over forging ahead with her career. So why was envy slithering up her limbs now? And why was Fargo’s muscular frame blocking her view of Kate and Braxton?
“I’m back.” A masculine voice sounded behind her.
She blinked, and just that quickly Fargo faded. What was up with her? She’d just met the guy, but suddenly he invaded every second of her day and barged into her thoughts.
Darren walked into the room, clutching a slender vase of velvety red roses in one hand, a paper bag of something that smelled yummy in the other. He bent over to kiss Kate’s cheek. When he straightened, emotion and pride seeped from his eyes.
“For my absolutely radiant wife. Motherhood looks so beautiful on you.” He held the vase so Kate could press her nose into the bouquet and breathe in the love.
Tears rimmed Darby’s lashes. She sniffled and dabbed her nose. “I think I’ll come back later.”
“No. Sit,” Darren admonished, holding out the bag. “This is for you. A grilled chicken sandwich just the way you like it.”
Just the way she liked it. Which meant slathered with some honey mustard and minus the slimy piece of lettuce.
Darren knew that about her because of her friendship with Kate and all the time they spent together, her as a third wheel.
Was this what love looked like? What a committed relationship meant? For a man to know what she wanted, just the way she wanted it, and long to give it to her. To gaze at her with a tender expression. To whisper that motherhood looked beautiful on her.
Being a
third wheel lost its appeal. She wanted the real deal. She pictured herself in the maternity tank top, a baby clutched to her chest. Fargo standing by the bed, gripping a bunch of roses. His other hand smoothed hair back from her face. The image was firm, not cloudy.
As real as the knowledge that her father would call again demanding another update.
The clock ticked. Another day of vacation ripped from her life.
Suddenly, the urge to race back to the ranch overwhelmed her. Was Fargo that man? Could he be?
Even more worrisome…could she be that woman?
§
She wasn’t coming back.
Fargo scribbled through the line he’d just written and slammed the notebook closed. He stared out at the dark driveway.
Hope yipped from wrestling with Charity in the yard. Laughter and glasses clinking together from the group gathered on his mother’s back patio filtered through the trees. Majesty whinnied, riling up a couple of the other horses in the pasture. Hooves pounded across the field.
His ears strained to pick up only one sound, though. An engine chugging up the driveway.
He’d probably jumped the gun kissing her like that. But her touch had ignited a fire to burn from his heels all the way up his spine. And her passionate response snapped the fragile thread of self-discipline he’d been hanging onto since she’d arrived.
He lifted his hat and rammed a hand against his scalp. Smooth move, Kester.
“Think she’ll be back, Dad?”
His gaze swiveled to Jayce. Even in the dim light on the porch, hope and longing reflected from his son’s eyes.
His face probably sported that same puppy dog look. “Not likely, son.”
“But she said she was coming back. I heard her,” Jayce whined. As grown up as Jayce seemed at times, he was still a boy, after all.
A boy who’d never known his mother.
Here was where a good parent told his child that life wasn’t always as one hoped. That people made promises they didn’t ever plan to keep.
But he couldn’t make himself be a good parent. Not tonight. Not when the pain of her absence still clawed at his heart. When he still hadn’t processed the words from the now finished poem. Or what to do about it.
And definitely not when his son still clung with an iron grip to the hope she’d come back.
