by Silver James
“So what else is new?”
He whipped around, surprised he hadn’t heard the door open. “Damn, Chance. Give me a heart attack next time.”
His brother laughed and dropped into a guest chair, legs stretched toward Cord’s desk, booted feet crossed at the ankle as he made himself at home. “Glad to see you back.”
“And that’s reason enough to sneak up on me?”
“Nope. I’m here at Cassie’s behest.”
“And?”
“She’s thinking about Thanksgiving.”
“Thanksgiving.” Cord repeated the word, his thoughts still on the conversation he’d just had with Cyrus—a conversation he wasn’t ready to share with Chance.
“Yeah. I know. It’s September and state fair time but she’s already planning for the holidays.”
The Great State Fair of Oklahoma. All sorts of possibilities ran through his head. Cord grinned and mentally rubbed his hands together. Perfect. He’d call Jolie, invite her and CJ. He’d run out of time. He had to convince Jolie they belonged together.
“Earth to Cord.”
“Wha—? Oh. Tell Cassie whatever.”
“I see the wheels turning, bro. What are you up to?”
“Nothing to do with Cassie, I assure you.”
Chance rolled his eyes and laughed. “Yeah, I figured that. Let’s firm up Thanksgiving, and then you can fill me in on whatever nefarious plan you’re cooking up. Cassie wants to do a big family dinner at the ranch.”
“Yours or ours?”
“The Crown B. We’ll be lucky if our house is ready by Christmas.”
Chance and Cassie were building a new home on the Crazy M, the ranch she’d inherited and saved from the old man’s machinations. “Why the hell would Cassie want to do it at the B?”
“I keep asking her that and she just rolls her eyes.” Chance shrugged. “I think it has to do with the fact that we consider the ranch home. Cass is all about family and home now.”
“What about her and the old man?”
Chance leaned his head back and laughed. “My wife is fearless, and I quote, ‘Let that sorry old bastard do his worst. I’m not afraid of him. The ranch is your family’s home and that’s what Thanksgiving is all about.’”
“Well, all righty, then. Cass scares me sometimes, bro.”
“Yeah, you and me both. But I don’t foresee any problems unless she and Miz Beth fight over the kitchen.”
“Does the old man know about this crazy plan of hers?”
“Yeah, about that? I don’t think so. Cass isn’t worried. And frankly? Watching my wife tear into our father is worth the price of admission.” Chance’s gaze shifted so he was no longer looking directly at Cord.
He waited, knowing there was more to come. “What?”
Chance’s smile disappeared. “She wants to invite CJ. And Jolie.”
“Ah. That could be a problem if it’s a real family event. If the old man is around—” Cord snapped his jaw shut and inhaled several times. “That would not be a good idea.”
His hand dropped on top of the file and he drummed his fingers on it as he stared at his brother. “Have you seen the notes from the investigation Cash ran on the accident?”
“Changing the subject, big bro?”
Cord lifted one shoulder in a negligent shrug. He wasn’t quite ready to get personal yet. He needed to work, focus on what he did best—find oil and natural gas, tap it and get it to a Barron refinery. “Business, Chance.”
“I got a copy of the report. What about the tool pusher? Is he sloppy?”
“I don’t buy it. Cooper has complete faith in the man. And Cash’s guy couldn’t find any signs of sabotage.”
“I hear a but in there, Cord.”
“Just seems a bit coincidental. J. Rand warns me away from Jolie, and then the well on the lease we outbid him on suddenly develops problems? I don’t believe in coincidences.”
“What’s the pusher’s safety record?”
Cord tapped the folder again. “Impeccable.” He swiveled in his chair and stared at the hospital complex on the hill. He heard Chance shift in his chair and the sounds of rustling paper. “Thanksgiving isn’t the only reason you came. What’s up?”
“Did you look over the proposal on the Houston refinery?”
He swiveled back around and resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Yes. And the old man seems to have covered all the bases despite my lack of input.” Something in his brother’s expression made him lean closer. “What? There’s something in the deal you don’t like?”
“Cyrus wants to set up a shell corporation for the refinery.”
“For tax purposes?”
“Ostensibly.”
“I hear a but in there, too, bro.”
“He wants the shell separate from the family trust.”
Cord considered the implications, and then rubbed his forehead to smooth away the furrows that thinking created. “He wants control of it. Just him.”
“That’s my thought.” Chance shifted uncomfortably. “You’re still CEO, Cord. The sale doesn’t go through without your signature, despite what the old man says.”
Cord ran his fingers through his hair, glad it was finally growing out from where it had been cut in the hospital. “We need the refinery, Chance. I’ll go through the file, make some calls. Anything else?”
Chance pushed to his feet and turned toward the door. He hesitated and glanced over his shoulder. “Maybe the problems are a little closer to home, Cord. The old man is still pissed that I outsmarted him on the family trust.”
Or it was a way to control Cord. Again. Chance left, shutting the door behind him, leaving Cord with far too much to think about.
* * *
Jolie slipped her cell phone into her pocket as Liza, the on-duty flight nurse, pulled up a chair and got comfortable by propping her feet on Jolie’s desk. “You look as if you just bit into a lemon. Man trouble?”
Trying her best not to sigh, Jolie shook her head. “No. Yes... Sort of.”
Her friend laughed. “Well, which is it?”
“It’s Cord.” As if that explained everything. To Jolie, it did.
“Honey, he’s good-looking, employed, rich and he dotes on your kid. I don’t see this as trouble.”
“You’d be surprised,” Jolie muttered darkly. “He just called asking to take CJ and me to the state fair.”
“Wait. The dude is a Barron. He could fly you to freaking Paris for dinner and he wants to take you to the state freaking fair? Hon, you do have man trouble!”
Liza’s expression was so comical, Jolie had to laugh. “No, he called to see if he could take CJ, and then included me in the invitation.”
“Wait. Asking you was an afterthought? What’s wrong with the guy?”
“Liza, you do realize that Cord is CJ’s father, right? We...have a history.”
The nurse’s boots hit the floor with a thud as she came straight up in her chair. “Wait, what? Cordell Barron is your baby daddy? Holy cannoli, woman! That is some history.”
“I don’t exactly tell everyone.”
“I’m not everyone. I’m like your new best friend. I should know these things. But more important, at least to me, is there more like him at home? ‘Oh, wait, why, yes, Liza, my new best friend in the whole wide world, there are three more Barrons at home and I’d love to fix you up on a double date.’”
Jolie snorted and the swig of coffee she’d just taken exited her nose. Coughing and laughing, she mopped up the mess while she caught her breath. When she could speak again, she shook a finger at Liza. “Trust me. You do not want to be anywhere near the Barron brothers.”
“Trust me, yes, I do! Rich, handsome and single. What’s not to love?” Liza winked and nudged Jolie’s
chair with her foot. “So talk to me, woman.”
“There’s not much to talk about. Cord and I used to date. Then we didn’t. Then we sort of had a drive-by date and...nine months later, CJ popped out.” She refused to look directly at Liza, preferring to straighten a desk already so neat it would make an OCD sufferer proud.
Liza gave her the stink eye and Jolie could picture the wheels turning in the other woman’s head. She knew the moment Liza figured it out. “Oh. Em. Gee, Jolie. He didn’t know. Damn, girl. Why would you not tell him?”
Jolie wished the heat flooding her cheeks would go away. Liza had her pegged dead to rights. “That’s a really long story—one far too reminiscent of Romeo and Juliet to make me comfortable. Plus, there was that whole we’d-broken-up thing. And it was just a one-night stand. The thing is, he knows now and wants to make up for lost time.”
“Again, this is a problem why?” Liza stared so long and hard, Jolie had to look away first. “You still care about him. Honey, this isn’t a problem. Why not go out with him? See if the sparks are still there.”
“Sparks? It’s more like a forest fire.” Jolie ripped the alligator clip from her hair and combed her fingers through the tangled mass before twisting it back up and reattaching the clip. “The man drives me crazy.”
“So go with him and CJ to the fair. Drive him crazy for a change.”
Liza’s suggestion made sense, but for one thing. He’d asked to take CJ, and then included her as an afterthought. Besides, her ego still stung that he’d stopped short of making love to her when she’d all but thrown herself at him.
“I’ll see.” Not much of an answer, but it was the only one she currently had.
* * *
Cord stared at his son as CJ danced impatiently in front of him. The kid had insisted on going on every ride he was tall enough for, and dragged Cord along because he didn’t want to ride alone. He’d held out hope that Jolie would change her mind at the last minute and come with them but she’d insisted he and CJ needed bonding time—just the two of them.
Cord had finally steered CJ away from the midway, but then the kid grazed his way down the food row. Deep-fried cupcakes. Deep-fried watermelon. Funnel cakes. Hot dogs—deep-fried with chili. Cotton candy. Fresh-squeezed lemonade. A suicide snow cone.
“Dang, bubba. Where are you puttin’ it all?”
“Uh-oh. Is dang a swear jar word?”
“Nope. Dang is safe. But seriously, CJ. Haven’t you had enough to eat?”
“Nuh-uh. One more, Daddy. ’Kay?” CJ tugged him down the row of food-vendor trailers. He stopped in front of a place advertising deep-fried strawberry shortcakes. “Please, Dad? I want one. I promise I won’t eat anything else. Please? Please, please, please.”
Hiding his grimace, Cord stepped to the window and ordered. When the food arrived, he walked CJ over to a picnic table and made the boy sit before putting the treat and a handful of napkins in front of him.
“Want a bite, Daddy?”
“Ah...no.” Cord did his best not to look askance at the glob on CJ’s spoon. He liked deep-fried food as much as the next red-blooded American male but some things were just not meant to be dipped in batter and fried.
CJ inhaled his dessert, declared he was thirsty and pouted briefly when Cord insisted he drink a bottle of water.
By the time CJ was done, the midway was shutting down. The little boy was dead on his feet as they walked toward the parking lot. Halfway there, Cord picked him up and carried him. Despite walking all over the fair, Cord felt remarkably fit.
CJ was all but asleep by the time they reached Cord’s sleek little sports car. He buckled his son into his car seat, and a few minutes later, they were headed across town to Cord’s condo in Bricktown.
He was happy to be home again. Once his physical therapist had cleared him and he’d started back to work, the commute from the ranch was a pain—not to mention he wanted his own space. Of course, he’d worked his butt off in PT to get out of the damn wheelchair and then to get rid of the walker.
Waking up when Cord unbuckled him, CJ groaned. “I want Mommy,” he whined. “My tummy hurts.”
Cord picked up the boy in a reverse piggyback across his chest. “I’ll call her as soon as we get upstairs, bubba. Just hang in—”
Something hot and wet splattered down Cord’s back. He barely set CJ down before the next wave of vomiting hit. He went to grab his cell phone, but stopped when he realized the thing was in his hip pocket—the pocket covered with deep-fried something.
Thankfully, he had a private entrance on the ground floor. He got CJ inside, undressed him and laid him down on the couch with an ice pack, a wet washcloth and a plastic bucket.
Stripping out of his clothes with the utmost care, Cord donned a pair of rubber gloves he found in the supply closet and fished the important stuff out of his pockets. Luckily, his phone didn’t seem any worse for the wear. He dialed Jolie’s number just as CJ called for him. He got back to the living room barely in time to hold the bucket.
“Cord?” Jolie’s voice echoed from the other end of the line.
He wiped CJ’s mouth and snagged his phone. “Jolie? Thank God. Can you come over?”
“What’s—?”
“Is that Mommy? I want Mommy.” CJ raised his voice. “Mommy? My tummy hurts and I upchucked.”
“Cord, what in the world is going on?”
“We’re at my condo. Can you come? I’d come to you but... Hold on.”
After he dealt with another round of sickness, he grabbed the phone again. “CJ’s—”
“I can hear, Cord. I’m on my way.”
By the time the doorbell rang fifteen minutes later, CJ had been able to hold down a few sips of ginger ale and was dozing on the couch. Cord realized he was wearing nothing but his socks and boxers only after he opened the door to Jolie’s arched eyebrow.
“Let me guess, you haven’t done laundry and you had nothing else to wear.”
“Well...” Cord scratched his chest. “Actually, I threw the clothes we were wearing in the washer but I haven’t started the cycle yet. I’ve been a little busy.”
“I can imagine.” Jolie stared at his chest—was that a look of hunger in her eyes? At his suggestive chuckle, she dragged her gaze back to his face. “How is he?”
“Better, I think. He had some ginger ale and is asleep.”
“See, you can handle it. Not sure why I’m here.”
“Because he wanted you?” There was no rancor in his voice. He remembered being sick as a kid and wanting his mom—his real one or Helen, the second Mrs. Barron. Too bad neither of them had survived to see the Barron boys grow up.
He offered what he hoped was a winning smile. “C’mon in. I’ll go grab some jeans.”
Cord insisted Jolie precede him. No sense letting her see just how much she affected him—which was all too evident by the activity in his boxers.
He grabbed a clean pair of jeans from the dryer, started the washer and headed back to the living room.
“Can I get you something to—?”
“Rule number one, Cord.”
He stopped dead in his tracks as she held up one finger. Remaining silent, he simply arched a brow.
“Little boys do not need to eat everything in sight.”
“Yeah, I sorta figured that out.”
“Rule number two.” She added a second finger. “Little boys will beg to eat everything in sight. Refer back to rule number one.” The way she enunciated the last three words made Cord want to laugh.
He worked on his expression so he could appear chagrined rather than amused. Hoping boyish charm would help, he said, “I’m sorry, Jolie. This is all sort of new to me, y’know?”
Her face clouded up and he once again held up his hands, palm out, in hopes of placating her. �
�Whoa, sunshine. I was simply stating a fact, not casting blame. Okay?”
Jolie huffed out a breath that ruffled her bangs and nodded. “Okay.”
He tried another dose of charm by way of a crooked grin as he pressed his suit. “And you know, we could have avoided this whole situation if you’d just come with us.”
She glared at him but he caught the twinkle in her eye. “Oh, so this is my fault?”
“Why don’t I get you something to drink while we figure out who’s at fault?”
Jolie followed him into the kitchen. “Don’t think for one minute that your charm will get you out of this one, Cord Barron.” She narrowed her gaze and all but shook her finger at him.
“Ah, so you admit I’m charming.” He flashed another grin and waggled his brows at her before ducking behind the refrigerator door. Cord bit back his laughter at her exasperated huff. He emerged with a pitcher of tea and fixed her a tall glass with ice from the freezer door. As he watched her take a sip, the tightness in his chest eased—and the tightness farther south ramped up a little. He’d gotten the sweetness in the tea right, judging by the look on her face, but seeing her swallow put all sorts of thoughts in his head, thoughts he throttled given their son slept on the couch in the next room.
He offered her a chair at the kitchen table, sitting once she’d settled. “I’m sorry, sunshine. I told you I need to learn to be a dad. Those self-help books don’t help at all.”
She choked back a quick laugh, but her gaze softened as she regarded him. Progress. “I should have warned you but there’s no better teacher than experience.”
Unable to resist the urge, he touched the back of her hand, and then ran his fingertip up her arm. Goose bumps. Yeah, he liked that he could still affect her like that. “Thanks for coming when I called.”
“You’re welcome. I suppose I should get him home.”
“Do you have to go?”
She gazed at him and he didn’t flinch. There’d been too much secrecy between them. He wanted everything out in the open. Ever since their talk at the ranch, when he’d barely stopped from making love to her, he’d been wearing down her defenses. He wanted her in the worst way, but he wanted to do it right this time. He wanted to build a real relationship—one based on trust and friendship as well as the heat they generated. Chemistry made for great sex, but it took more to make a relationship. And he wanted a relationship with Jolie, one beyond the fact she was the mother of his child. The time for hesitation was over.
