“Told you,” he said to Bex, scooping out spaghetti and sauce for each boy and ignoring the mayhem. “It never fails. If there’s a football game I want to watch, someone needs help with his homework. If I get an important phone call, suddenly they both need to talk to me. The night I desperately need sleep, they start running a fever.”
“But you want more kids.” Her eyes had turned a soft gold.
“Yes,” he said simply. “Mind bringing in the garlic bread?”
He could have added: more children, yes, but only with you.
She didn’t want him to propose. He should be relieved.
He wasn’t. That shook him up a little.
The three boys ate rapidly, if sloppily, and eschewed the grated Parmesan, which Bex added liberally to her spaghetti. Then they mumbled requests to be “’scused” and disappeared, leaving the two of them to finish their meal.
The sound of running water from the bathroom down the hall diminished some of the romantic ambiance, such as it was. So did the puppies circling the table, not begging, just hopeful and romping around. One of the children was actually taking a bath without prompting. That worked for him. Casually picking up his fork, he asked, “What precisely did Greg say?”
“He reminded me that Josh is his son.” Bex stopped eating and sighed. “If I believed he really wanted to be a good father, I’d feel differently about this. To be fair, maybe he does—but he’s nothing like you.”
As a compliment that ranked right up there. She wasn’t trying to flatter him, either. She was just ruminating, twirling pasta around on her plate.
He was touched by that.
But he had to say, “Bex, you knew this was coming.”
Her eyes glistened as she nodded. “I know.”
One of the puppies—he thought it was Ace but they all looked alike, so he couldn’t be sure—tried to crawl onto her lap in sympathy. Usually the dogs seemed to stick to their allotted boys. His must be the one in the bathtub. She absently patted the puppy’s head.
“Josh is resilient,” he said.
“I don’t want him to have to be, but I don’t want my sister to go back to Greg, either.”
“I’d guess he’s bluffing.”
The spaghetti was good. No wonder the boys had devoured it. Tate took a bite and washed it down with a sip of wine. “I’ve met his type before. He won’t last more than a day or two, and then soccer practice and laundry will get to him.”
“So speaks a man with experience.”
“Oh, it got to me, too.” He couldn’t be less than honest. “It’s a lot of work. I get tired and exasperated at times and have to remind myself that it isn’t an easy journey, but worth it.”
“I’m more worried Greg won’t let him play soccer and won’t do his laundry. He refused to pay for his lunch ticket, Tate.”
She was really worried. He could see it in her strained expression.
There was suddenly some dispute in the bathroom, probably Ben and Adam. In his experience, Josh didn’t cause dissension. He started to get up to mediate.
“No.”
“No, what?”
Bex said, “Sit down. I’ll handle this one. I need the practice. I can’t be nice Aunt Bex all the time if we live together.”
She did well; they listened long enough not to resume the controversy until they hit the bedroom, where the grumbling gradually reduced in volume and then subsided completely. The puppies also disappeared to their beds, which he’d insisted be left on the floor in an effort to keep the animals off the furniture. He’d already caught one of them snuggled up with Adam when he checked on everyone before he went to bed last night, and he’d just let it go with a sense of the inevitable. Boys and puppies… Yeah, the dogs were going to sleep on the beds eventually. Who was he fooling?
When Bex came back to the table, he did notice that she took quite a long sip from her glass. He kept a straight face but she saw him, anyway.
“I’ve never thought,” she said defensively, “that it’s easy to have kids.”
“No.” The shimmer of her hair made him want to run his fingers through it. Speaking in a slightly husky tone, he said, “Why don’t we finish dinner, and then, when we’re sure the kids are asleep, let’s go make another one.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
SHE WASN’T SURE what attracted her more.
The fact that Tate openly admitted he wanted more kids or that she could tell the situation with Josh bothered him as much as it did her.
Oh, he was definitely sexy, which was, of course, what had attracted her in the first place, but there was a lot more to him than that. How a man looked and how he acted were two very diverse parts of who he was. Tate won on both scores.
His bedroom was typically male. King-size four-poster bed made of walnut. Besides that, Tate had only a single dresser, plus a small nightstand with a book on it and a plain bronze reading lamp. She was interested to see that the book—the old-fashioned print kind—was a hardcover history of the Civil War. The closet was a walk-in and huge, so she’d give him points for planning ahead. There was more than enough room for her clothes. All he seemed to have, other than a few suits, were jeans, shirts and cowboy boots.
Overall, there was no clutter in his room, and nothing unnecessary, which seemed somehow typical of him.
The house was almost disturbingly like her dream house. The rustic comfort, the sweeping view, the land, the children and horses and dogs—the entire package.
Plus Tate.
Was she really going to do this? A baby?
He undid the buttons on his shirt. “Just an observation, but you’re wearing entirely too much clothing.”
She was going to do it.
Bex pulled off her top. “Better?”
He sat down and tugged off his boots, his gaze intent. “Oh, yeah. Keep going.”
She unfastened her bra. “Like this?”
“Exactly like that.” She removed it, conscious of him watching, and then unfastened her jeans and slipped out of them. By the time they tumbled onto the bed, entwined and kissing, she was just about ready for what was going to happen next.
Or so she thought.
It wasn’t that he touched her differently, but it felt different. His fingers still traced her breasts with the same reverence, his mouth caressed her neck, but there was a heightened sense of awareness between them that she wasn’t entirely prepared for. A sense that a life-altering decision had been made. And yet she knew that if she changed her mind, he’d accept it.
Tate lifted his head and looked at her as their positions shifted, and she could feel him hard and ready. “Are you having second thoughts? You’re so tense. What’s wrong? Talk to me.”
There was a lock of hair hanging over his forehead, and she smoothed it back. “Just a small reality check. This is like jumping out of a plane and hoping the parachute opens.”
“I’ll be right beside you, holding your hand, as we float down together.”
If she didn’t think he meant that, she wouldn’t be with him. “I know.”
“This is mutual, right?”
“The baby decision or the moment?” She kissed him, putting her arms around his neck. “Or both?”
“I’ve never been in love before.” He said it against her mouth, so quietly she almost didn’t hear it. “I thought so, for a little while, anyway, but I was wrong. It never felt like this.”
She felt the same wonder, although she had been in love. How many people experienced it more than once in a lifetime? Then she told him what he already knew. “I love you, too.”
His smile was tender. “I guessed maybe you did. The clues pointed that way, even if you never said it.”
When she didn’t speak, he added, “You didn’t have to. I understand.”
Her arms tightened around his neck. “Make love to me.”
“I think I can go along with that.”
He did, his eyes closing, and Bex gasped his name at the sensation as he joined their bodi
es.
She’d learned a lot in the past weeks.
About her body, about the sexual rhythm of a man and a woman—or at least of her and Tate. She’d started to recognize the way he breathed as he got closer to release, the lowering of his lashes, how the sudden heat prickled across his skin just before his control evaporated.
He knew her even better. He knew when she wanted him to move faster, how to lift her just the right distance as she was about to climax, that a wicked whisper in her ear made the experience more vivid.
She came first, going wild in his arms. She heard him make a low sound, and then he was there with her, saying her name loudly enough that she was glad the door was solid wood and firmly shut.
Catching their breath, neither of them spoke until he finally murmured, “I’m hoping that didn’t work and we have to try it again.”
Bex laughed and bit his shoulder playfully. “Maybe. But only if you’re on your best behavior.”
“Or worst?” He licked her nipple.
Her sensitized body responded. “Quit that.”
“Never.” His thumb rubbed along her lower lip. “You make me happy. I don’t think I’ve ever said that to another person.”
She looked into his eyes. “You make me happy again. I didn’t think I’d ever say that. I was content with my life. It was good, peaceful—”
Someone knocked on the door. “Hey, Dad.”
“Just a second! Hold that thought.” Tate scrambled for his discarded jeans and muttered, “It isn’t peaceful now.”
Bex drew the sheet up to her chin and suppressed a laugh. “Nope.”
“Don’t expect any improvements. I’ll solve the current problem and be right back. That’s all we can do, take it one situation at a time.”
“I took care of the one during dinner, so it is your turn.”
He glanced at her over his shoulder. “Be here and still be naked?”
“I have no other plans at the moment.” She said it breezily. “Have fun. I have a feeling this might involve Ace, Joker or King.”
“I have the same feeling.” He stalked over and yanked the door open, but said patiently, “Okay, here I am. What’s going on?”
“Why was your door locked?” Ben sounded peevish, cute in his Batman pajamas.
“Never mind why. Just give me the bad news.”
“I think one of the dogs might have…well…”
“Show me where.”
Bex dissolved in laughter once the door shut behind him, but at least she waited until he’d left.
Step one. She’d finally been able to say it. I love you.
*
NAKED, YES.
Awake, no.
Tate went back to his bedroom, hoping for a repeat performance, but Bex was sound asleep, her respiration soft and slow.
He slid in beside her, listened to her breathing in the dark.
Crossing his arms behind his head, he told himself how damn lucky he was right now. Sure, the boys were a handful and he just cleaned up an unattractive mess on his brand-new floor with an apologetic puppy watching. His father and Mrs. A. were going to meddle and feud with each other, there was still a month or two of construction to be finished…
But he felt very lucky.
Bex was in his life.
Sleeping next to him, she turned over with a small sigh, and as much as he wanted to kiss her awake, she’d looked really tired when she’d walked in the door.
No proposal.
He sensed that she really meant it. Lying there in the dark, he thought about it. While a part of him was convinced he didn’t want to get married again, was afraid to…there was another part that felt very differently now.
Her hand was under her cheek, and he reached over and touched the tiny airplane charm on her bracelet. He’d never looked at it closely and only now realized what it was. An airplane. Which was a coincidence, no doubt—but somehow it proved to him that this was meant to be. They were meant to be.
He wasn’t going to ask her to sign a piece of paper that reduced their relationship to dollars and cents. She’d forbidden him to propose, much as he now wanted to, so he needed a way around this dilemma. There had to be one.
He lay there and thought about it some more.
As he drifted off, he wondered if there was something he could do he hadn’t considered before.
Maybe.
Oh, hell, worth a try, anyway.
*
BEX POURED ORANGE JUICE into three glasses and passed them out. Toast made, cereal distributed and children munching, as were the puppies, all at their bowls. None of them were quiet, none of it was dainty, but it was under control.
She could do this.
Tate was still asleep.
That surprised her because he normally got up at daybreak and prepared breakfast for the boys. Maybe they were all settling into a new routine, with her sharing responsibility for the three boys, and she liked the idea of that.
The construction crews started to arrive. She could hear the trucks pulling in and the sound of slamming doors. Flora was in the pasture, ears pricked forward, and from the window, Bex watched her move warily to the north end.
“Good morning.” Tate wandered out, rubbing his face. “I overslept. I never do that. What time is it, anyway?”
She made him a cup of coffee with, as usual, cream, no sugar. “About seven. Maybe you needed the extra sleep.”
“I have to go feed Flora, take the boys to school, pick up more hay so I can bring over the horses Tripp’s keeping for me. Then I want to see if I can get a solid timeline on the stable and barn.”
“The boys are doing fine. Have your coffee first.” She leaned on the counter. “I’ve got an idea.” She spoke in a low voice, since this wasn’t a conversation she wanted the boys to hear.
He paused in the act of taking his first sip. “Uh-oh. When a woman says that I get nervous.”
“Don’t be funny.” She sent him her most lethal look.
“My apologies.” He did seem contrite, except for the smile. “So, what’s your idea?”
“My current manager constantly calls in. I don’t want to fire her, but I don’t want to work twelve-hour days like yesterday, either. I could move her to another position, offer Tara the job and she could rent my house if she agrees to move back to Mustang Creek. Thoughts? I doubt she’s happy in Denver away from Josh. Actually, I know for a fact she’s not.”
The constant stream of emails was evidence enough. Tara knew Josh was safe with her, but she missed her child and her friends.
“I wouldn’t be happy at all in her situation.”
There was a reason she’d fallen in love with Tate Calder. Well, quite a few, actually, but that was one of them. He understood how her sister must be feeling, understood the importance of family.
He drank some coffee, his lean body braced against the counter. “It sounds perfect, except for Greg. If she comes back here, what’s he going to do?”
She played with her hair, something she did when she was thinking; it had been pointed out before, but she couldn’t stop herself. “I’m inclined to go with the idea that a united front, a decent job and a house will make a big difference. If she doesn’t need Greg, it’s over. She had the courage to leave. I think she has the courage to come back.”
“United front?”
“Hadleigh, Mel and me. We can get her back on her feet. And we can help her deal with any problems Greg might cause.”
“You sound confident.”
“We can make things happen.”
His eyes held amusement. “I don’t doubt that. And you wouldn’t lose Josh.”
Bex had to admit that had entered her plans. “You have to acknowledge that is one nice kid.”
“Agreed. He has a pretty nice aunt, too.”
“I’m attached to him.”
“I’m attached to him and his aunt.”
It was impossible to suppress a laugh. “So? Your opinion?”
“I think it
would be best for everyone all around. But Bex, it might not turn out the way you want.”
Her fear exactly. She glanced at the clock as it ticked off the minutes, the hands moving along the numerals and the image of the house. “He’s happy at school. Mustang Creek is his home. I don’t want him to lose that.”
“We could fly out today to pick her up in Denver if she can’t get a reasonably priced flight,” he suggested. “Or if there’s any other way I could help, let me know.”
He already had helped. Immeasurably. She studied him as he leaned against the counter. “How come I always have this distrustful feeling that you’re too good to be true?”
Tate laughed, choking on his coffee. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Don’t do that to me again. Okay, full disclosure. There are some things I neglected to tell you. I don’t dust. If it was left to me, this entire planet would just be coated with the stuff, so that chore will fall to you. I didn’t mention that on purpose in case it scared you off. I do laundry, but no sorting is involved. If you have, uh, delicate items that require special care, my advice is not to put them in the basket because they’ll go in with red athletic socks and be washed on the regular cycle. During the basketball Final Four, I’ve been known to eat, and feed my children, pizza for a few nights in a row. Let’s see, what else? I don’t shave on weekends. I can’t stand lima beans. If you serve them, I’m going to pull an Adam and refuse to eat them. I’m sure there’s more, but that’s as much soul baring as I can handle this early in the morning.” He called out, “Guys, let’s move it.”
When the boys filed out with their backpacks and the throng departed, except for three disappointed puppies, who pressed their faces to the front door, she sent a text to her sister.
I have an idea. Call me.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
“WHEN I TURNED out the horses a few days ago, my young stallion was really interested in one of your mares, following her around. You might be in business sooner than you think.”
Tate wasn’t displeased. Tripp had an eye for prime horseflesh, and his stallion was a beautiful animal. “I’ll send you a stud fee when we find out.”
The Marriage Season Page 20
