What was he doing?
Shifting into park, Ryan ran his hand down his face. The rasp of his short stubble scratching on his callused skin thundered into the silent cab.
From his vantage point, Lisa and Jesse weren’t outside any longer. He exited the truck, double-checking for Wanda’s car. A person could never be too safe with that woman around. He wouldn’t put the possibility of her hiding her car somewhere past her.
Long strides carried him to the house.
Where was his son?
Horrible scenarios plummeted through his mind. Maybe Wanda had kidnapped Jesse. The boy was the best thing in Montana and once Wanda figured that out, Ryan had no doubt she’d weasel for more time with him.
“Lisa? Jesse? Where are you guys?” He lifted his hat. Cool air soothed the hot sweaty mess his hair had become. Where were they?
“Back here, in the kitchen.” Lisa’s sweetly hardened voice trailed into a giggle that harmonized with Jesse’s accompanying laugh.
Down a hallway and through two sets of doors, Ryan walked into a white snow-storm-like mess. “What happened? And who’s going to clean this up?” Not him. Sweet vanilla filled the air, the scent subtle but strong enough to snuff out other odors.
A white smudge streaked across Lisa’s cheek and she scrunched her nose at him. “We are, of course. We’re making—”
“Trying to make.” Jesse’s own blond hair capped a paler version of himself.
Lisa nodded, smiling. “Yes, of course, trying to make chocolate chip cookies, but Jesse says I’m doing it wrong and that you make the best cookies in the county.” She arched one eyebrow. “I find that hard to believe to be honest.”
Unable to smother his answering smile, Ryan allowed the moment’s joy to overtake him. He stepped into the kitchen, past the island counter and onto the floured surface of the floor. White powder poofed from under his boots and settled on the worn leather.
“Dad, I’m sorry, we’ll clean this up.” Jesse’s glee faded and he turned his gaze down. He reached for a washcloth tucked into a nearby towel rack.
Placing a hand on his forearm, Lisa turned toward Ryan. “We will pick it up, but not right now. We’re making these cookies. It’s been a stressful day, don’t you think?”
Ryan stared into her eyes, thankful for the challenge in them as she narrowed her gaze enough to mean she wasn’t messing around. He crossed to the sink and washed his hands. “The problem is, you two don’t have any cornstarch out. Jesse, grab that and the vanilla. We’re going to show Lisa here how to make the best dang cookies this side of the Rockies.” He reached past her and a swath of her brown silken hair grazed his arm. He breathed in sharply, inhaling her cinnamon scent.
Definitely a fragrance a man could get used to.
Ryan moved aside as Jesse worked his way around to the spice cabinet. But something had changed. Ryan studied Jesse, his forehead drawn down. “What’s going on? What’s different?”
Pink flooded Jesse’s cheeks. He didn’t speak but returned to the stool he’d taken up residence on.
The walker hadn’t left its spot on the opposite end of the counter.
“Wow, Jesse, you walked without help?” Ryan couldn’t close his mouth. He tried, but it didn’t work right with the shock.
Jesse shook his head. “No, I used the counter with my hands and braced my hip against it, and I can only do short distances before I need to sit down for a moment.” He bounced on his seat. “But Lisa said I’m pushing myself so much, I should be able to graduate to harder things in a few weeks.”
“Great job, Jesse. I’m really proud of you. That’s just great.” To Lisa, he silently mouthed, “Thank you.”
“Hey, Jesse, can I… I’d like to apologize for not telling you about the phone calls or about the visit sooner. I just…” Ryan swallowed the tightness in his throat, forcing his pride away. “You deserved better and I let you down.” He rounded the counter and reached for his boy. Comfort as he hugged his son had him closing his eyes. He didn’t want to lose anymore moments with Jesse and if he wasn’t honest, he could very well lose more than Wanda ever had.
Muffled against Ryan’s shirt, Jesse mumbled. “Thanks, Dad, it’s okay. I’m sorry, too.”
Pulling away to arm’s reach, Ryan tucked his chin to his chest to see Jesse better. “How was the visit? Did you get your questions answered?” Ryan hadn’t been able to bring himself to ask Jesse what his questions were. Hopefully, Jesse had been able to ask them and Ryan could put Wanda back in her niche in history where she belonged.
Jesse slid his gaze to Lisa and then back to Ryan. “Is it okay, if we talk about this tomorrow? I’m really tired. Lisa hasn’t been very nice.” He smiled at his therapist who laughed.
“Don’t blame me. I told you I was going to push you.” She patted his shoulder and walked to the closet, retrieving the broom.
“Wait, I thought we were going to make those cookies?” Ryan held up his hands, palms down.
“I’ll eat one when they’re done, is that okay?” Shadows under Jesse’s eyes darkened. He moved to sit down on a couch in the adjoining family room. In moments the child slept. His chest moved slowly up and down as he breathed.
“He sleeps hard, huh?” Ryan watched him for a moment, unsure what happened and not quite comfortable just outright asking Lisa. He looked down, wiping at the littered counter.
“Yeah. Okay, so want to know what happened?” Lisa placed a hand on his arm and gazed up into his face as if searching for secrets to long lost mysteries.
“Yes, but first I have to tell you what happened in town.” Ryan broke an egg, separating out a yoke into the mix and storing the viscous white part in a small Tupperware container.
He didn’t wait for her reply. About to erupt with uncertainty, he started haltingly. “I’m not sure… no, it’s more complex than that? I ran into a federal agent in town.” He stood, pushing away from Lisa. Thrusting a hand through his hair, he stared at the ground. “This guy is looking for you. He showed me your pictures. Yours and Sara Beth’s and Rosie’s. He asked or claimed something to the tune that you’re all involved in something illegal? He claimed you’re a Caracus kid.”
Lisa’s slim jaw ticked and he waited for her to deny the assertion.
“If it’s okay with you, I’d rather not talk about that. But yes, I’m aware he’s asking around about me. It’s not something I’d miss.” She picked up the plastic container filled with semi-sweet chocolate chips and pressed the lid down. Tucking it back into the cupboard, she brushed her hands on her jeans, leaving behind white handprints on the tops of her well-molded thighs.
“Okay, that’s fine. I don’t care that you’re a Caracus, you know?” He moved to block her path as she tried to pick up the flour and baking soda. His nearness forced her eyes up, and Ryan jerked back at the sight of restrained tears.
As if choking on the question, Lisa bit out, “And why wouldn’t you? I’m Devlyn Caracus’s daughter – or at least one of them. I’m infamous, right?” Her gaze fell to his collar and she blinked, sending tears tracking through the white residue on her cheeks.
He reached up, wrapping his fingers around her upper arms. Shaking her enough to sprinkle flour from her hair but not enough to hurt her, Ryan bent at the knee to be more on level with her mesmerizing eyes. “Lisa, I don’t care about that. I might have been concerned at first, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized that the only thing I worried about was that you might leave town with Mendez after you. And I don’t want that to happen. I need you to stay. I want to get closer to you.” Raising his thumb, he rubbed it across her lower lip, the silky texture drawing him nearer. “We could try dating, you know? Try just once? Don’t you think now has come?”
Lisa stared, transfixed, as he gently brushed her lip back and forth. She blinked, breaking the spell. “We need to discuss the meeting.”
But Ryan didn’t want to.
He didn’t want to hear what happened from Lisa. He needed to hear
it from Jesse. Because Jesse was the one who the meeting had been for. “Thanks, but I really just needed to know that someone with Jesse’s best interests at heart was here for him. No small comfort it was you, right?” He tucked a few strands of hair behind her ear. “Say you’ll go out with me, Lisa. Say it. If you still want to talk about the meeting or even something else, we can do that then. I really want this.” He flipped his finger back and forth between them. “Say it. Come on.”
She bit her lip, like she wanted to say yes, was dying to say yes, but that she had to bite her lip because she wasn’t supposed to say yes. “Not yet.”
“Okay, how about Friday? I know you’re free that night. You’re always free that night. I’ll fire you after working with Jesse and then I’ll rehire you Sunday evening before his first appointment again.” He nodded, like his argument and plan would be enough to break through her barriers.
“Really?” Lisa’s doubt colored her smile and she laughed. “I’m going to say maybe right now. But if you come up with something to do, I might say yes. Does that sound fair?”
Barking a laugh, Ryan shook his head. “No, it doesn’t sound fair at all. I’ll take it though. I’m a good guy.”
“I haven’t quite decided that yet, Mr. Noland.” She rubbed at the rear of her neck.
“Ryan – you should call me Ryan. Please.” Ryan couldn’t take his eyes off her. She had to let him date her. He hadn’t dated in years and there he was trying to convince a woman that she wanted to go out with him. Since when did he beg for a date?
“Okay, Ryan. Friday night. Let me know what time when I come Thursday for Jesse’s appointment. He and I have a lot to cover in only two hours.” She rinsed out the mixer bowl and rested it upside down to drain.
Asking her about Wanda didn’t seem as pressing. Did he want to feel confident with Jesse’s affections? Or was there something else?
Either way, he needed to celebrate. Lisa had accepted his date. Maybe was a yes in his book.
~~~
Cracking the whip to the right of the horse’s flank, Ryan executed his favorite crack – the figure-eight which swung the body of the whip literally around in the shape of its name. The double crack and its uneven rhythm impressed so many people, Ryan couldn’t help but love it.
The bison moved their heads and stumbled a few feet up the sandy sides of the ditch. If he left them to wade through the roughed in irrigation stream, they’d get stuck and not be able to get out. Plus, wolves plagued the area and the last thing Ryan needed was to lose even one head of his thickly filled in herd.
“Come on. One more.” He flicked his wrist and the whip end sang through the air, cracking just above the ground at the last bison’s feet. He’d never whipped an animal, but startling them worked well. With such large bodies, keeping one’s distance while managing them couldn’t be more crucial to survival.
On the edge of the property, the ditch sank beneath the level of the pasture and then slipped beneath the barb-wire fencing protecting the property. That particular section ran parallel with the road and Ryan had posted his fencing in just over twelve feet from the shoulder of the pavement.
The metal wire had become twisted with the falling of a post and Ryan mentally noted to come back within the hour to fix the torn section. Bison out or wolves in, neither scenario had a pretty ending. He remounted his horse and tucked the handle of his whip into the special slot on his saddle at the base of the pommel. Lifting the reins, he stopped.
Where the heck had Wanda come from?
She stood at the fence, her hand shading her eyes. Nothing had changed with her, not enough that the image of her standing there, one hand on a secure post and her hair cascading over her shoulder, didn’t send him slamming back to the earlier years of their marriage. Just out of high school.
He bit his tongue to keep from yelling. Instead, he waited. She’d never beat around the bush before. Hopefully, she’d be just as blunt then as she’d always been.
“I assume your babysitter reported on the visit.” Her lip gloss glinted in the sunlight.
Ryan didn’t say anything, just stared at her like she’d better hurry things along.
“Well, I want more time with him. I want to visit him regularly. He said I need to apologize to you first, but I honestly don’t see what for. You got to have him all this time. Maybe you should let me take him now.” She lifted her chin, as if challenging him.
Where Ryan would have taken the bait and reacted brashly when he was younger, he could see her goals to push his buttons. “No. You’re not taking him. If you see him again, that will be up to Jesse. And you left us. Left us! Me with a brand new baby. He was so helpless and at first he had colic and I had no help. No one to work through it with me. I did everything by myself.” He stiffened his jaw. “I was both a mom and dad for that boy. You’re not coming in here and messing all that up. Do you hear me?”
“Montana gives more precedence to the mother. I’ll sue you for custody.” She coldly smiled, like it’d been her plan to threaten him all along.
Ryan nudged his horse closer to the fence. “Do it. Please. I’d love to see you explain to the judge why you abandoned your newborn son and husband and never came back. I might even have a camera crew in there to preserve that show.” He ignored the dread that tried puddling in his stomach. She wouldn’t get Jesse. He’d never let her win that one.
Disbelief tilted her eyelids downward. “I want to see him again, Ryan. Please.”
He shrugged. “It’s up to Jesse. If you want to call him tomorrow afternoon, that would be fine.” When Ryan left the house, Jesse had still been sleeping on the couch. Wanda didn’t need to know that, who knew what she’d try.
“Okay, I’ll try tomorrow, then.” She nodded, pushing off from the fencing. “Thank you.” Her voice dropped into a near-whisper.
He’d be a bigger man to forgive her and move on – and while bigger men lived in Montana – he wasn’t one of them.
Not yet.
Maybe never.
Lisa
Chapter 13
One-forty-three PM.
Lisa shivered remembering the caress of Ryan’s gaze on her back as she worked with Jesse the afternoon before. She’d opted to keep it slightly professional and not seek him out when she was supposed to be working with his son.
Walking by and checking their progress, he’d muttered, “Five.” And that was it. That one word had sent a thrill through her limbs she hadn’t been able to shake since.
Now, Friday afternoon couldn’t drag by any slower. She glanced at the clock again. Nope, only one-forty-four. Lovely. And she was already dressed.
How embarrassing. She slumped back into her couch, lifting her feet to set on the coffee table.
Huffing, she crossed her arms and then her ankles. A stray splinter tugged on her nylon. Lisa puckered her lips and blew air out. “Seriously? Welp, plenty of time to go to the store, since eternity just started. Jeesh.” She dropped her legs and pushed herself from the cushions. If it wasn’t one thing, it was another.
Dangling from a hook by the door, her purse and keys were easy to grab as she stomped out the door.
The business truck she’d been allotted since starting the mobile therapy route offset any femininity her dress and nylons lent her, grounding her in reality. Maybe time would return to normal out in the real world.
In the cab, she turned the key in the ignition, growling when all the starter did was click. Turn – click. Turn – click. Turn – and a crappy click!
“No. No, no, no, no.” One hand pummeled the steering wheel and the other yanked the key from its hole. The vinyl cover didn’t give as she spent her frustration with varied slaps and hammer punches.
After a prolonged minute where eternity did slow again, Lisa sighed and exited the truck. She trudged over the steps and pathway back to her condo door and let herself back in. Like a stiff wind she hung up her worthless-keys and then dug her phone from a side pocket in her purse. Without a truck, s
he’d never make it out to Ryan’s place for dinner. No matter what time she left.
Dialing, she waited nervously for Ryan or Jesse to answer. The jangly tone of voicemail relieved her stress of having to cancel to an actual person. “Hi, Ryan and Jesse. It’s Lisa. I need to cancel tonight’s plans. My truck isn’t starting and I need to get it into the shop. I’m so sorry.” She paused and picked at the thread dangling from the hole in her nylons at her calf. “As soon as my truck is fixed, I’d like to try again?” Then she hung up.
But maybe it was a sign? Like the rodeo universe was telling her that she wasn’t supposed to be dating a client’s father. Or that her baggage went beyond the actual term of baggage and defined its own phrase.
Rifling through a small phone book the mailman had left the other day, Lisa dialed the only mechanic she could find.
Resisting Redemption Page 7
