by Tori Kayson
It was his fault she hadn’t lived up to her dreams. It was his fault she’d let go of life altogether.
He stumbled over to the rail. Guilt weighted his shoulders, heavy as concrete blocks, chilling as ice water. He rubbed the back of his neck, then planted his forearms along the still warm wood.
Darby would probably call him a freak.
And she’d be right.
A palm landed on his shoulder then fingertips rubbed gentle circles along the tension knotting his back. If only Darby’s touch could erase the guilt. Ease the torment that constantly barraged his thoughts, his nightmares.
“She’d always talked about leaving Coldwater Ridge after graduation, but then we got pregnant. I thought she’d give up the dreams of leaving once we got married and Jayce came along. She knew I never planned to leave the ranch.” He lifted a shoulder. He’d been truthful about that. Never once caved in to her pressure to leave while they’d dated. This is where he belonged.
“But that didn’t happen?”
“No.” He shook his head, the memories coming back with a vengeance. “She only grew more despondent. Bitter. Angry.” With him for getting her pregnant, as if it didn’t take two to make that happen. But then she blamed Jayce, too.
“I came home one night to find Jayce sobbing his little heart out, whimpering, his baby face tomato red. While Jennie stretched out on the sofa, a magazine tented over her face, rock music blasting through the house.”
He’d been so angry that night. They’d had an argument. They’d both slung hateful words. Words that, if he could, he would take back.
Life had a way of making a person see that after the fact, though. There hadn’t been any second chances.
“The next night…” He sucked in a breath, her lifeless body, that horrific vision right there in front of him again. He closed his eyes, shook his head. As if that could make it go away.
“It wasn’t your fault.” Darby’s soft voice fluttered out into the night, the humidity almost carrying her words away before he could fully grasp her meaning.
“No?” He scoffed and opened his eyes. Mere squints, but that kept the dam from bursting, the pain from leaking out his eyes. “How do you figure?”
“She didn’t have to stay. She could have moved away and raised the baby on her own. But she chose to marry you. She knew what she was getting into when she said yes. The ranch is part of who you are.”
That was a fact. Every inch of his soul belonged to the ranch. He’d never wanted to do anything else. Had known it since his first cattle drive.
“Or for that matter, if she was so unhappy, she could have just asked for a divorce and offered to let you keep Jayce.”
Another truth. That wouldn’t have been easy, though. He wasn’t one to give up, especially since he’d gone into the marriage committed to a lifetime, just like his parents modeled. But he would have let her go if she’d spelled out the alternative. If only he could have sensed how unhappy she really was, but—
“There was nothing you could have done, Fargo. Whether it was done out of anger or sadness or sickness, it was still her choice. Her decision. Unfortunately, suicide leaves a trail of emotional dust. But you can’t let it cloud your life forever.”
She was right.
He angled sideways. Nudged his hip against the rail and tugged her back into his arms.
Her warm espresso eyes glittered in the darkness. Her palms splayed against his chest.
“Thank you for that.” He needed to hear those words.
He wanted more time with this woman, but just like Jennie, she wasn’t right for him either.
What did he have to offer?
She wanted a contract to use his land, but he couldn’t even give her that.
~ CHAPTER 17 ~
“So, can I talk you into coming over to the house?” Tanned muscular arms appeared on both sides, pinning her to the kitchen sink. Fargo’s deep voice rumbled against her ear, igniting all sorts of delicious shivers to pop and dance along her arms.
“It depends,” she drawled, her lips curving as if on autopilot around this cowboy.
“On?” His hand bunched her hair and lifted it off her back. Teeth nibbled on a sensitive spot below her ear.
She closed her eyes and arched her neck, giving him full access, stilling her soapy hands in the sink so she didn’t drop the plate. Around this cowboy, anything was possible. “Will you throw in another foot rub?” The words came out throaty, hoarse. She barely breathed, not wanting to move and distract his mouth.
“It depends,” he drawled, imitating her.
“On?” Forget the plate. It slid back into the sudsy water. She angled around, throwing caution to the wind and looping her arms, wet soapy hands and all, around his waist.
“Will you fall asleep again?” he asked, a bit of the devil in the rakish tilt of his mouth, the sensual slant of his eyebrows.
She gulped. If he kept looking at her like that—
The back door squeaked open. “Well, that’s the last of—Oh!” Rebekah’s startled voice slogged into Darby’s consciousness, clearing away the haze.
Her arms dropped away from Fargo’s waist, slinging water clear across the kitchen. Suds plopped on the tile floor.
The scoundrel only chuckled and twisted around to plant his rump against the counter, nudging his lean hip to nestle firmly against hers. Mercy! This cowboy was pure trouble!
Warmth zapped like fireworks from her midsection up to her neck.
Surprise arched Rebekah’s brows and widened the woman’s brown eyes. But shock morphed into a satisfied smile as she juggled two empty bottles of wine.
Boots skidded to a stop on the tile floor. Arms reached out to brace Rebekah from falling. “Hey, Mom. A little warning next time you plan on parking yourself right inside the back door?” Slade teased.
Jayce followed, and Kierra brought up the rear, holding a tray of soiled glasses. Bodies lined up like dominoes just inside the kitchen door.
Darby bit her lip, hiding her smile.
“Hey, Dad. Can I spend the night here tonight?”
“Not a chance,” Fargo said, his voice no-nonsense, all teasing gone.
“Why not?” Jayce whined. The first time since she’d been here that the almost teen showed even the slightest glimmer of disrespect.
She stole a glance sideways at Fargo. How would he handle it?
The father speared his son with a firm look, the profile of his jaw tight and unyielding. That probably would have been enough to halt the whining, but Fargo followed it up with a reminder. “You know the rules, Jayce. Not on a school night.”
Was that the only reason? Or because he hoped for a chaperone?
“And Slade, you know better than to ask him.” Rebekah scolded her youngest son.
Was this what a normal family sounded like? What it felt like? Warm and cozy, firm but tender at the same time? Not the slightest bit of indifference here. Every member was active and engaged in the conversation. A sigh welled up from the deepest part of her soul. She wanted this.
Kierra slid out from behind the trio and set the tray next to the sink, then pressed a hand on Darby’s back. “Darby, you know, we didn’t expect you to do these dishes.”
She shrugged. “I wanted to help.” Plus washing the dishes kept her from firing up her laptop and scanning the hundreds of emails that would demand her attention for the next several days. Since coming back to the ranch, she’d refused to even pull it out of its case. Why hadn’t she left it at home?
“Well, thanks. We appreciate your help.” Kierra’s dark eyes glowed with appreciation, but her shoulders drooped with fatigue. “We can get it from here. This tray is what’s left from outside. A few of the guests took off for town.” Kierra’s arm dropped away from Darby’s back. She glanced at her mother. “They won’t be back until really late. The rest of them are retiring now so they can get an early start tomorrow. We’ll need to have breakfast on the table at six thirty.”
“Sounds l
ike an early night for me, then.” Rebekah’s athletic shoes squeaked across the tile floor. She deposited the empty wine bottles in the recycling bin.
“Night, Mom.” Slade popped a kiss on his mother’s head. “I’m going to watch TV for a few minutes before I do my barn chores.”
“Night, sweetheart. Not too late, you hear?” Rebekah draped an arm around Slade’s back and pressed a cheek to his shoulder. The teen was at least a head taller than his mother.
“All right.” Slade agreed then left the kitchen, Jayce on his heels.
“Hold up, Jayce,” Fargo commanded.
This time the boy halted, obeying without so much as a word or a rebellious look.
“Darby’s coming over for a while tonight.”
“She is?” Jayce’s face lit up. His gaze whipped to her. “You are?”
“Sure.”
“Cool!” his nearly-a-teen voice squeaked. “Want to play a game?”
“Like?”
“We have a bunch of them. You can choose.”
“Sounds like fun.” Actually, she couldn’t think of any place she’d rather be or anything she’d rather do.
“You don’t know what you’re getting yourself in for. Jayce doesn’t like to lose.” Fargo’s voice rumbled just over her shoulder as he leaned in. His clean, heady scent drifted over her.
Well, maybe she could think of one thing.
“That makes two of us.” She waggled her eyebrows playfully. “May the best man, or woman, win!”
“I’ll need your help with the chores later, Jayce.” At his son’s ferocious nod, Fargo unfolded his arms and stepped away from the counter to stand next to his son. He twisted around, and Darby could see the resemblance between father and son, the slight tilt of a firm jaw, the green gold eyes. Jayce would be as handsome as his daddy one day. “Anybody else up for a challenge?”
“Sounds like fun, but my head’s going for the pillow here shortly.” Kierra bowed out.
“Same here. But you guys have fun,” Rebekah said.
“Cowards,” Fargo teased, but the smile on his face gentled his word. His smile turned to her, just about melting her into a puddle on the kitchen floor. “We’ll wait for you in the family room, Darby.”
She nodded, unable to tear her gaze away from father and son as they left the room.
Fargo’s hand rested on his son’s shoulder. The flimsy material of Fargo’s black shirt clung to massive shoulders that barely harnessed his unbridled strength. Jeans hugged incredibly long legs.
Her pulse thumped under her skin, drumming out all other thoughts than how wonderful it felt to be held in those arms, cradled against his chest. Like she’d finally found home.
“It’s good to see him smiling again.” Kierra chuckled and nudged her shoulder, snapping her back to the two women left in the kitchen.
“Yes. It is,” Rebekah said, warming her with a kind look. “And I think I know the reason for his smile.”
Heat crawled up her neck again. “Dinner was delicious, Rebekah. Thank you.”
“You’re so welcome, my dear. It’s a pleasure to cook for my family.” Rebekah’s gentle smile encompassed both her and Kierra.
The one word— family —was probably a slip of the tongue, a result of Rebekah’s weariness that the woman had included her. Not because she really meant it.
“I won’t be gone long,” Darby said. She hung the dish towel and headed toward the family room, pausing to look back from the doorway. “Long enough to show the kid how it’s done,” she teased.
Laughing, Kierra picked up a glass and dipped her hands in the dishwater, but Rebekah followed. “Good luck with that. Jayce is as competitive as his dad. But really, take as long as you’d like, honey. We don’t bother to lock the door way out here. Hope and Charity would alert us if someone drove up the lane, so no worries.”
“Thanks for the warning. Good night.” When she entered the family room, both dogs bolted from their spots on the rug to welcome her as if they hadn’t seen her in ages, instead of the few minutes she’d been in the kitchen.
“Hey, boys. I missed you, too.” She crouched and scratched both dogs around their ears. When she stood, a canine flanked her on both sides, herding her toward the front door, just like that first day when they’d guided her to Fargo. She smiled. The dogs weren’t crazy after all.
“Hope! Charity! Enough.” Fargo scolded the dogs and heaved himself from the recliner. “Give the poor woman a break.” He settled the Stetson on his head. Lines of exhaustion fanned out from his eyes. The man looked dead on his feet. What if he was the one who fell asleep tonight?
She picked up the pace, two sets of dog nails clicking the hard wood beside her.
“Good night, Rebekah. Slade. See you in the morning.” She tugged the front door open and lifted her arm to flutter through the air behind her, but it met some resistance, thumped something firm. She twisted around.
Fargo smiled, scraping a hand across those golden whiskers.
“Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t realize you were so close.” She smoothed his jaw where she’d whacked him. Mercy! What this cowboy did to her pulse! Her fingers itched to touch him, her arms ached to curl around his neck, and her lips—
“Eww. Mushy!” Jayce wrinkled his nose and turned away.
Was her face an open book, reflecting every emotion that flitted through her brain? Or worse, did it reveal every ounce of longing that swelled from her heart for a family, for fun cozy evenings just like this?
There was an impressionable kid involved here, and she refused to hurt him or his dad when it came time to leave. But what about her? What would leaving do to her heart? She’d already grown so attached to this family, the loss would rip her in half.
As if a bucket of ice water sloshed her in the face, she jerked her fingers away from Fargo’s jaw. Numbness slithered down her limbs. She gulped down a painful lump, a chasm splintering her spirit. Surely, she hadn’t known them long enough to cause this deep of an ache?
Fargo scruffed the top of Jayce’s head, ruffling his hair. “I’ll be saying that to you in a few years when you come home with your first girlfriend.”
She sucked in a breath. Girlfriend? Is that how Fargo considered her? Or was he just playing around with Jayce?
Fargo reached behind her to push the screen door open and winked at his mother. “Don’t wait up, Mom. I’ll make sure Darby gets back safely.”
She intercepted the look that passed between Rebekah and Fargo. The one that said, I like this girl, but be careful, son.
She tucked her chin to her chest, embarrassed over interpreting their private message.
A gentle touch landed against the small of her back. His breath whispered against her neck. “Ready?”
“Yeah.” She scrounged up her courage. One more wonderful evening would make leaving even more painful, but she didn’t have the power to resist.
“Hey, do you think you can keep the smooching contained to your house and not on our front porch?” Slade taunted.
“Keep it up. There’ll be extra chores for you in the barn tonight,” Fargo countered, teasing in his tone. He scooped up a pillow from the arm chair and beaned it at his brother, but Slade plucked it out of the air before it hit his face.
Now her neck was on fire. She stumbled out the front door and down the steps, thankful that Jayce was already halfway across the yard and hadn’t heard the exchange.
“That’s only if you make it out there before I do, big brother,” Slade yelled, then snickered. “Not likely.”
“All right, boys.” Rebekah’s soothing voice followed them outside.
Fargo’s boots clunked across the porch, and soon his deep chuckle rumbled against her ear. “Sorry about that.”
“No need. I think I was just as much at fault.”
“That you were,” he agreed, too easily, with a vigorous nod of his head.
“Hey!” She reached out to swat him, but he sidestepped, his boots doing a little two step.
&n
bsp; Then, he surprised her by grabbing her hand and twining their fingers. Together, they sauntered across the yards, taking their time.
Majesty snorted and stomped his foot in the pasture closest to Fargo’s house. Cattle lowed in the distance. Boots clomped the hard dirt next to her. A screen door banged. Stars popped out across the darkening sky in almost a synchronized rhythm.
In the short time here, she’d grown to appreciate this peace, the quiet evenings, the slower pace. So much more attractive than the angry swirl of the big city. The never ending cycle of movers and shakers, of parties and late nights amid the tinkle of glasses and the chatter of voices. Of meaningless words uttered over a cocktail to a person who meant even less, just to strike a deal for a company that promised her nothing. And the worst part? Her own father was at the helm, but other than the contracts she pulled in, he could care less about her.
This is what was important. Family. Interaction. Love. It was all here, and painfully pointing out the lack in her life.
~ CHAPTER 18 ~
“Guess you’ll have to come over tomorrow night so we can finish the game,” Jayce said, nodding his head as if he’d planned it that way all along. He probably had since he’d chosen Monopoly. He scooted the chair back from the kitchen table and headed to the front door. “Hope, Charity, come!” He patted his thigh, calling the dogs then glanced at his father. “I’ll be back in fifteen minutes.”
As if warning them that’s all the time they had alone. Maybe he’d heard Slade’s comments after all.
“Sure. We’ll be here.” Apparently, Fargo got the hint, too, judging by the curve of his lips.
Jayce disappeared outside flanked by his two canine companions, and the door clicked closed.
The room was quiet, broken only by their breaths, the air sparkling and alive with promise. Across the table, Fargo stared at her as if she was that last slice of apple pie with whipped cream, and he was staking his claim. Never had a man treated her with such lavish attention just for her sake. The guys she’d dated, even Blake, all wanted something in return. Namely, Brewster Oil.
