by Kaki Warner
She leaned into him, needing the support, the strength of his arm around her. “And you’re a good big brother.” She certainly hoped that was the way Joss and Dalton felt about each other. “I wish you’d been around in her wilder days. You might have kept her in line better than I did.”
“I doubt Joss was as wild as everybody thinks she was. Just . . . flighty.”
Raney wondered if that was code for dumb. Although she didn’t truly think Joss was dumb. She was too creative, too curious and enthusiastic about everything around her. Dumb people were boring. Joss was anything but that. “Then why was her bra hanging over the goalpost upright the morning after homecoming?”
A chuckle. Another kiss on her cheek. “The guys are still doing that?”
“What guys?” She drew away to look at him. “What are you talking about?”
He pulled her against his chest and this time wrapped both arms around her, loose enough that they could still see each other, but close enough that she could feel the heat of him from her waist to her knees. It was nice.
“Buddy Anderson and I threw that bra up there our freshman year.”
“You did? Why?”
“To drive the cheerleaders crazy trying to figure out who it belonged to.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “You have the cutest nose.”
Raney remembered seeing bras on the goalpost crossbar several times. She didn’t realize Dalton had started it all. “It wasn’t Joss’s?”
“Hardly. She would have been a kid at the time. But maybe she got in on the act later. Lots of girls gave bras to their boyfriends to toss up there. Thought it made them cool. Want to go to my room? You could watch me shower. Or something.”
“Mama said no hanky-panky. Her house, her rules.”
A kiss at the corner of her mouth. “Mama’s not here. I’ll make it quick. Ten minutes, tops.”
“I hope you’re not bragging.” She turned her head in case he wanted to kiss the other side of her face. Which he did. “Who owned the bra you tossed up there?”
“Mrs. Langers.”
Raney’s mouth fell open, snapped shut. “Toby’s mother? Oh my God.”
“Buddy pulled it off their clothesline. Do you know how hard it’s going to be, sleeping in the same house with you and not sneaking up to your room?”
Raney had to laugh, picturing two gawky fourteen-year-old boys boosting a bra. Probably the first one they’d ever touched that hadn’t belonged to a family member. At least, she hoped so. “No wonder Toby hates you.”
“He never knew.” He nibbled a trail down her neck. “Sort of wished now that I’d told him. You smell good.”
“Horse manure and alfalfa. It’s called Cowboy’s Delight.”
With a sigh, he lifted his head. “You’re not taking this seriously, are you? Here I am doing my best work and you—”
“I’m worried about Joss. She looked so broken. I don’t know how to help her.”
“You can help her by not worrying so much. She’ll be fine.”
“You think so?”
“I do. In fact, after considering everything she said about the guy, I’m thinking Grady Douglas might be exactly what your sister needs.” He gave her a last quick kiss, then let his arms drop back to his sides. “I’ve got to shower. You should, too. You’ve got slobber all over your neck.”
* * *
* * *
The mutes showed up exactly on time, as predictable as sunrise. Dalton came in a few minutes later with wet hair. Raney was glad she had settled for a quick rinse-off and hadn’t taken the time to wash and dry her own hair. No use raising eyebrows until she and Dalton had actually done something to warrant it.
Alejandro was in an especially good mood. As he loaded his plate with roasted pork, candied sweet potatoes, and green beans, he told them his ex-wife had decided to leave Uno with him for the summer while she visited her family in Honduras. “I pick him up mañana,” he said, adding two slices of fresh-baked bread to his plate.
“Bring him to supper,” Raney suggested.
Alejandro shook his head. “Uno is a big, sturdy boy. He will work while he is here, and it is best if he eats and sleeps where the other workers do.”
Raney was about to argue with him when Alejandro smiled and shook his head again. “Esta bien, Jefe. Las esposas plan a big fiesta for him. And he will feel muy importante working with Chuey and Harvey.”
“I could use help with the horses, too,” Dalton said. “Think he’d be interested?”
“Sí. He can teach you mucho.”
“And I can teach him English while we work,” Dalton countered.
Alejandro muttered something under his breath.
Dalton grinned. “No delante de la dama, mi amigo.” Not in front of the lady.
Raney pretended she hadn’t heard and suggested if the weather was nice, they could have a yard party at the house, too. “With games and ice cream and cake and a piñata. What do you think?”
They thought it was a grand idea.
“And since we’re breaking Mama’s rule about speaking Spanish at the table,” she went on with a meaningful look at both Dalton and Alejandro, “can either of you tell me what chingona means?”
They glanced at each other, both fighting smiles. Dalton asked Raney where she’d heard that word. “Did someone call you that?”
“Press called Mama that.”
Which amused all three men no end. “Chingona means ‘bad-ass woman,’” Dalton explained. “We’re laughing because the same could apply to you.”
“I never said that,” Glenn cut in. “Not about you, Miss Raney.”
“But it’s true, isn’t it?” Dalton asked Alejandro.
The Mexican wisely remained silent, although his grin spoke volumes.
Raney gave up. The meal was almost over and she still had two more topics to discuss. “I need you to be serious for a moment,” she said in her no-nonsense voice. “Maria,” she called. “Could you please come in here?”
Maria came in, a worried look on her face. “The food is okay?”
Raney gave her a reassuring smile. “It’s wonderful, as always.”
Once she was sure she had everyone’s attention, Raney said, “There’s a man named Grady Douglas who may come to the ranch to see Joss. She doesn’t want to see him. If you or any of the other workers see a stranger hanging around, tell me or Dalton right away. And if we’re not here”—she looked at Glenn and Alejandro—“you two see what he wants.”
“Do you expect trouble, Jefe?” Alejandro asked.
Raney pushed her plate away, appetite gone. She felt like she was siccing the dogs on an innocent person. No matter what Joss said, Grady didn’t sound like he meant any harm to her sister or their baby. But she couldn’t take the risk. “No, I don’t expect trouble. Just make sure he leaves, and tell him if he wants to come again, he should call first. Maria, will you warn the other wives to be on the lookout, too?”
Maria nodded.
“Who is this man?” Alejandro asked, that protectiveness he’d always shown toward the Whitcomb girls evident in the hard glint in his dark eyes.
“The father of Joss’s baby. Joss said they parted on bad terms and now she’s worried he’ll come here.”
“We will not let him near her.”
Maria and Glenn nodded in agreement.
Dalton watched in silence, that unyielding expression back on his face.
“Should I lock the main gate?” Hicks asked.
“I don’t think that’s necessary, Glenn. He may not come. And anyway, we have no reason to think he’s a bad guy or that he would cause trouble. All we know right now is that Joss doesn’t want to see him. So, no rough stuff. Everybody got that?”
Nods all around.
“Good. Maria, you can bring dessert whenever it’s convenient.”
“On a happier note,” Raney said after Maria left, “I may have good news for you, Glenn.”
He perked up.
“How would you feel about training Dalton on the breeding program?”
Instead of being happy, the old man gave Dalton a skeptical look. “You sure he wants to know all that stuff? It’s unnatural, is what it is. Don’t know why we’d want to interfere with the way the good Lord intended things to be.”
Glenn was no fan of artificial insemination. Despite the advantages of higher impregnation rates, less risk of injury or disease through proper management and genetics, and strengthening the breed by using only the strongest, healthiest bulls to produce stronger, healthier offspring, Glenn had never approved of the program. Probably a guy thing. The cows certainly offered no complaints.
But rather than point all that out yet again, Raney took a gentler approach. “I know it’s been a burden, Glenn, managing the AI program with all the other things you do for the ranch. I really appreciate how hard you’ve worked. But Dalton told me today he had a keen interest in breeding.” She didn’t look at him when she said that, but could swear she heard him grin. “And he’s offered to take over the program. If that’s okay with you, of course.”
That perked up the old fellow again. “Damn straight, it’s okay. Just hope the boy knows what he’s getting into. Liable to put him off breeding altogether.”
“Oh, I doubt that,” Raney said over Dalton’s sudden coughing fit.
CHAPTER 16
That night Dalton was especially restless, knowing Raney was in a room nearby and he couldn’t go to her. In his mind, they were already committed to each other and this enforced separation felt wrong. He was almost looking forward to Mrs. Whitcomb’s return so he could go back to the workers’ dorm and avoid all this temptation. After an hour of tossing and turning, he got up, pulled on jeans and a T-shirt in case he ran into anybody, and went into the kitchen for something to eat.
Joss was sitting at the small breakfast table, crying into a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Before he could escape, she looked up and saw him, so he reluctantly continued into the room.
“Hey,” he said, and tried to inject interest into his voice.
In truth, he was weary of Joss’s theatrics. At her age he’d traveled halfway around the world to fight a war. But she seemed stuck in high school, and the way her family treated her, she was liable to be trapped there forever. Still, he wasn’t unsympathetic. He’d had his low times, too. “What’s up, Buttercup?” Seeing she’d left the PBJ makings on the counter, he built one for himself. “Is it Grady?”
She nodded. “Him and the baby. I don’t know what to do.”
That didn’t surprise him. He finished making his sandwich, set his plate across from hers, then went back and hunted up two glasses. “Do you care about him?” he asked, filling them with milk and taking them back to the table.
“I’m pregnant with his baby, aren’t I?”
Not much of an answer, but he let it pass. He sat down and started on his sandwich. “Do you think he cares about you?” he mumbled as he chewed.
“He says he does.”
“Do you believe him?”
“He’s not a liar, just a nag. But yes, I believe him.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
She gave one of those rolling-eye things women do so well. “It’s not that simple.”
“Yeah, Joss, it is. You either care about each other enough to try and work it out, or you don’t.” But these Whitcomb girls sure made that hard.
Another eye roll, accompanied by a long-suffering sigh.
Dalton finished his sandwich, got up, and went to the refrigerator. He rummaged around, found two apples in the vegetable bin, asked if she wanted one—which she didn’t—then brought both of them back to the table. They were small apples. “Have you talked to him? Told him what’s bothering you?”
“I tried.”
He took a bite of apple and studied her. “Try harder.”
“He won’t listen.”
“If you were crying when you talked to him, he probably couldn’t. A guy sees tears, it shuts off the listening part of his brain.”
Before she made herself dizzy with another eye roll, he said, “Look, Joss. Most men try to do the right thing. Where we get into trouble is not knowing what the right thing is. But not wanting to admit that, we punt, and usually miss the ball. If you want this to work, you need to tell Grady straight out what you want, what you don’t want, and what you expect from him. Then he can either take the ball and run with it or fumble and lose the game.”
“Neatly put, Coach.”
Dalton shrugged and bit into the apple. He’d done his best. If he was going to hold anybody’s hand through a crisis, it would be Raney’s.
He wondered if she was sleeping. And what she was wearing while she did it.
“I don’t know what to do about the baby, either,” Joss said, breaking up a really nice picture in his head of her naked sister. “I want to stick with my music, but I want to be a good mother, too. I don’t know if I can do both.”
Dalton figured that was a dilemma most mothers faced at one time or another. He didn’t have any answers, but he suspected Grady Douglas would take his role as father pretty seriously, which might lighten the load for Joss. He finished off the first apple and started on the second. “Which is more important to you?” he asked. “Music or the baby?”
She gave him that glare. “The baby, of course.” Then she sighed, and added, “But music is important to me, too. It’s not fair that I have to choose one over the other. But I’m afraid if I try to do both, I won’t be any good at either and probably end up like Crystal, alone and boozing it up just to get through the night.”
Dalton smiled. “You won’t do that. Your mama would never allow it.”
“Then what do I do?”
“You try. And if it doesn’t work, you try a different way. You’re smart, Joss. You’ll figure it out. Although it would be a damn sight easier if you had someone at your back. And not just your mama.”
“Grady?”
“That’s for you to decide.”
She thought for a moment, then nodded. A resigned nod, but with a hint of enthusiasm, too. “Maybe I should talk to him. Thanks for the advice.”
He took a last bite of apple and grinned. “Just part of the service.”
She studied him. “Speaking of servicing, what are your plans for my sister?”
Dalton almost choked. He was either the most transparent guy in history, or the Whitcomb women were all psychics. They should start their own psychic hotline.
“Here’s my advice.” Joss pushed her plate aside, leaned forward, folded her arms on the tabletop, and looked him hard in the eye. Hard enough to make him lean back in his own chair.
“Raney doesn’t hold grudges. You lie to her or screw her around, she’ll toss you out like a moldy grape and never think of you again. Be like you were never born. She would never think of retaliating. But Mama would. And the last guy who hurt one of her baby girls is now facing bankruptcy and a broken career. And if that’s not enough, I can always come up with a dozen creative ways to ruin a man’s social life.” She sat back, a scary smile on her tearstained face.
Dalton stared. “Who are you? And where is the gentle-hearted, crybaby airhead I’ve grown so fond of?”
Boom. And there it was. That full, shit-eating grin he had so grossly underestimated. “You’re fond of me?”
“I better be.”
“Exactly.” Joss picked up her dishes and carried them to the sink. “Nice talk.” With a backward wave, she headed for the door. “By the way,” she called back as she stepped into the hall, “you need bigger T-shirts.”
Definitely not gentle-hearted. Or an airhead. And he did ne
ed bigger Ts.
That put an end to Dalton’s midnight kitchen forays. Between his new tasks in the AI program and stepping up Rosco’s training, he fell into bed each night too exhausted to raid refrigerators. But not too exhausted to visit Raney in his dreams.
* * *
* * *
June got hotter and time passed faster.
Mama texted that the cruise was amazing, Alaska was beautiful, she’d gained three pounds and had met a lot of fun widowers. Raney could imagine. Now she was visiting friends on an island in Puget Sound before going on her pack trip around Mount Rainier. She was having way too much fun for a woman her age.
Alejandro’s son Uno arrived. He was a handsome boy, heading into puberty, solidly built like his father, and twice as talkative, which wasn’t saying much. He loved horses as much as Dalton did, and was a big help to him around the barn.
Raney spent her days trapped in the office doing paperwork, and her nights staring at the ceiling and thinking about Dalton. She would lie on her bed, watching the slowly rotating overhead fan, and picture him in the room below hers, stretched out on his bed, his body so long, his feet hung over the end.
Did he snore? Did he sleep in pajamas? Did he think about her, too?
Joss continued to expand. Her monthly forty-mile trips to see the obstetrician in Aspenmont increased to every two weeks. Raney could see her excitement build as her mid-September due date approached. But there was worry, too. Would the baby be healthy? What should she name her? Would she be a good mother?
No amount of reassurance reassured her, but Raney kept trying. And while she did, she often caught herself wondering what kind of mother she might make. And whenever she pictured herself with a baby in her arms, Dalton was standing behind her, grinning that goofy, sideways grin she loved.
More money came from Grady Douglas, and with each letter, Joss’s agitation grew. She hated him. She didn’t hate him. She wondered what he was doing, if he thought of her, if he would come to see her, and when. They were a pair, Raney and Joss. Neither of them knew what to do about the men in their lives.
