The Rancher's Family--A Clean Romance

by Barbara White Daille

  And her suddenly soaring pulse at this admission he needed her confirmed everything she already knew.

  Despite all the warning signs, all the questions without answers, all the worry over trusting her own feelings...she had fallen in love with Wes.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CARA CLAMPED HER hands together in front of her but wished she could clamp them over her ears instead. Wes had called it exactly right about how badly Mark would handle the news his daddy wouldn’t be attending the recital.

  “But why?” Mark cried plaintively for the third time.

  “Daddy’s still at the ranch,” Rhea explained again. “He’s taking care of one of the horses.” She shot a glance at Cara.

  With each wail, Mark’s voice had risen and he’d swiped away fresh tears. With each wail, Cara’s heart twisted a little more. She couldn’t do anything about Lizzie’s anguish, at least not at the moment, but she was determined to help Mark here and now.

  “Daddy can’t come,” she said. “He’s sorry he can’t watch the show today.”

  “Miss Cara will watch?” He tugged on her hand and looked up at her, his eyes brimming again. “Miss Cara will watch, please?”

  How could she refuse? How could she just walk away from Mark when he was so upset? Of course, she couldn’t do that either. She nodded emphatically. “Yes, I’ll watch. I wouldn’t miss it.” And now she had agreed, she could admit to herself how much she wanted to be there.

  “You’re a lifesaver,” Rhea said quietly, adding in a normal tone, “Ignore the chaos. I’ve learned it’s best to let them all work off their nervous energy so they’re calmer when the recital begins. We won’t be getting underway for a while yet, but other parents will start to arrive soon. So feel free to hang out.”

  “Thanks. I’ll do that.”

  Rhea had made a slip when she’d said other parents. Cara wasn’t a parent. Still, she didn’t at all mind being included with the rest.

  Full of smiles now, Mark led Cara by the hand over to the bench where the children did their coloring and crafts. “Sit.”

  Obediently, she sat. He slid a piece of paper in front of her and put a box of crayons on the table. As he took a seat beside her, a few of his friends joined them.

  They all worked industriously until parents began arriving and most of the children lost interest in their drawings. She noticed the metal folding chairs set up on the opposite side of the room had begun filling fast.

  “Mark, I have to hurry and get a good seat so I can see you in the show.”

  “Okay,” he said. “I clean up.”

  “Thank you.”

  She hurried across the room to a chair at the end of one of the rows. Before she could sit, someone tapped her on the shoulder. Wes. Cara turned, only to find her quick thought and even more quickly pounding pulse had both let her down. It wasn’t Wes.

  Marianne stood in the aisle. “You’re here for the recital?”

  Cara blinked. Beneath the noise of the audience, teachers and stars of the upcoming show, Marianne’s voice had nearly disappeared. But Cara couldn’t miss the venom in that first word.

  “No, I’m here for the dinner.” She smiled. “Of course I’m here for the recital. Wes couldn’t make it, and he asked me to stop by.” She hadn’t lied. But too late, she realized her explanation would probably give Marianne more reason to hiss.

  Sure enough, she said, “He asked? Or you volunteered?” As she’d done after their last conversation, she stalked off without waiting for an answer.

  Cara focused on the other side of the room and watched the miniature version of Wes. Mark carefully tucked the drawings they had done together into one of the colorful plastic bins lining a low shelving unit.

  Rhea clapped her hands and called for attention.

  Her assistants led the smaller children, including Tracey, over to a curtain blocking off one corner of the room. Mark and the rest of his friends ran to join them. The curtain billowed from the press of little bodies swarming behind it. Excited, high-pitched voices filtered out into the room.

  Cara soon learned she had been right, too, about what she had said to Wes. The program was very cute and both short and sweet.

  One of Rhea’s assistants played a simple tune on the piano as the older children recited their ABCs. Next came a tentative recital of the nursery rhyme “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star,” followed by an enthusiastic version of “Itsy Bitsy Spider.” Some of the more energetic participants occasionally got carried away, especially while showing the rain coming down to wash away their spiders.

  All through the program, camera phones clicked from every angle. Cara took pictures of all Mark’s and Tracey’s shining moments.

  After the entertainment portion, each child marched up to Miss Rhea to receive a certificate of participation and to pose for a picture with her.

  There had been very few tears and only a handful of shoves as a couple of students tried to claim more than their share of center “stage.” And somehow, everyone managed to stand still long enough for a final group shot.

  Cara made sure to take pictures of that, too. Wes couldn’t be here, but at least he would get to see what he’d had to miss...

  Another thought hit her, one that made her catch her breath and clutch her cell phone in both hands. She’d gotten so involved in recording Mark’s and Tracey’s special moments, she hadn’t once thought of her child. In the room filled with kids, she hadn’t once missed her baby-to-be.

  The feeling of disloyalty she expected to wash over her didn’t come. Instead of guilt she felt a tiny but strong certainty she had begun to heal.

  Wild clapping brought her attention back to the presenters, who were bowing and accepting their standing ovation. Quickly, Cara stood along with the rest of the audience.

  When everyone began moving around the room, she looked through the crowd for Mark, wanting to compliment him on a job well-done. Instead, she spotted Wes standing alone near the doorway at the opposite end of the room.

  Pleasure rippled through her with as much force as the rain coming down during “Itsy Bitsy Spider.”

  Smiling, she dodged chatting parents and children to get to his side. Halfway to him, she caught a good look at him, eyes dark and expression as blank as an unused sheet of Mark’s construction paper. As Cara paused, Marianne stepped in front of her, ignoring her to face Wes. Relieved, Cara realized he’d been directing that look at Marianne.

  “Oh, Wes, Mark and Tracey were wonderful. Patty would be so proud. I know you are, too.” She rested her hand on his arm. “Why don’t we take our kids to supper at Sugar’s so we can all celebrate together?”

  Cara’s stomach clenched. Well, she’d wanted Wes to take the kids out, hadn’t she? Though not like this. Not with anyone but her.

  He’d told her he didn’t care about Marianne. But people didn’t always say what they really felt. Hadn’t she been proof of that lately?

  If Wes didn’t want the woman, why couldn’t he tear his gaze from her? When he stepped closer, Cara’s heart plummeted. She wanted only to slink away, but Wes and Marianne blocked the exit to the hall. The aisles behind her had filled with proud parents and grandparents. She couldn’t go forward or back or cause a scene by running out through the emergency door. She turned again, trapped, forced to listen to Wes’s response to the invitation.

  “Not tonight,” he said gruffly. “Not any night. I’ve run out of polite ways to answer so I’ll be blunt. I’m grateful for Patty’s sake you two were friends. But you and I were never that and will never be anything else. As plain as I can make it, I’m not interested.”

  Marianne dropped her hand and brushed past Wes to move into the hall.

  As unfeeling and sarcastic as the woman could be, she’d probably needed Wes’s blunt response. Still, Cara winced, knowing just how crushing it was to be rejected by someone you
cared about. She was relieved she couldn’t see Marianne’s face.

  As it was, she had to meet Wes’s lingering scowl. “I...I’m so glad you could make it. Were you here from the beginning of the recital?”

  He stared at her, but his expression didn’t change. Her pleasure trickled away along with her voice, leaving her sounding as tentative as the children with their twinkling star.

  “I didn’t expect to see you.” His voice sounded uncomfortable and still carried its gruff edge.

  “I didn’t expect to see you, either. Mark’s going to be so happy you were able to get here.” She responded lightly, hoping he would feel more at ease again. False hopes, when she knew nothing she could do or say would help. It wasn’t Marianne he was angry with now.

  “I asked you to come by and help Rhea talk to my son. I didn’t ask you to step in for me, the same way I didn’t need your assistance when he got upset about the recital.” Every word he spoke made him sound more distant, as if he had taken physical steps back from her. “I’ll be around town the rest of the day. I’ll pick up the kids myself.”

  This felt like a dismissal—and she refused to let him brush her off that easily. “Okay. We’ll talk later, after I’m done at the store.”

  “Not tonight. The kids will be riled up enough from the show.”

  Or would he still be too angry to want her around? “Then we’ll talk now. What’s going on, Wes? It can’t just be what happened with Mark. Was it your conversation with Marianne?”

  “Nothing’s going on.”

  “It’s not nothing.” Everything between them at that moment was strained and awkward and confusing. And wrong.

  Above the noise around them, she heard Mark shriek, “Hi, Daddy!” from across the room.

  He came running up to them and threw his arms around Wes’s legs. “You came to the show.”

  Wes smiled down at him. “I did, pardner. You did an excellent job. And it was a great show.”

  Yes, a great show. Very cute. Short and sweet. And now also bittersweet.

  Mark turned to her, his arms held wide, grinning with happiness. She wrapped her arms around him, but even his hug couldn’t make her forget the anger in his daddy’s eyes.

  * * *

  MUCKING OUT STALLS was probably one of Wes’s least-favorite chores around the ranch. As a kid he had learned the job went by faster when he kept his eyes and ears and mind focused on nicer things. Which was probably why, when he heard a car door slam, his thoughts flew to Cara.

  Not smart. At all. Because, one, he’d already recognized it wasn’t the sound of her car. Two, since their meeting at Rhea’s yesterday, he’d been trying to convince himself to stop thinking about her so often. And three...

  Well, weren’t two examples of his lack of sense enough?

  Disgusted with himself, he set the pitchfork against the wall and stomped across the barn. By the time he changed out of his work boots and scrubbed his hands at the sink, his visitor still hadn’t come looking for him.

  He walked outside into the sun and relative heat of early afternoon. No vehicle in sight, either. Whoever had come to call must have parked in front of the house. He headed that way, still thinking of Cara.

  And cursing himself. He shouldn’t think of the woman at all, not when she planned to walk out of their lives before too long.

  All week, he’d told himself Mark’s tendency to cling to her couldn’t be a good thing long-term, but for now having her here gave his son extra attention. Being around his kids appeared to do some good for Cara, too. The more she was with them, the happier and more relaxed she seemed.

  Excuses. Since he’d met her, he’d made nothing but excuses for his actions. The list went on. Inviting her to supper because she’d offered to help him without asking for anything in return. Hanging around during story time to make sure she could handle the kids.

  He’d never admitted the real reasons for what he’d done. He liked being with her.

  What was wrong with him?

  He’d kept his distance from Marianne so she wouldn’t get involved with his kids but hadn’t had the sense to do the same with Cara. Now he’d driven her away because he hadn’t liked her stepping over the line, especially since he’d made it clear he didn’t want her taking his place at the recital.

  Yeah, he’d driven her away...and still he missed her.

  Even more disgusted with himself, he nearly raced across the yard.

  In front of the house, a familiar old but well-tended pickup truck sat on the driveway not far from the front steps. The truck’s owner sprawled comfortably on the porch swing.

  “Afternoon,” Jed Garland said.

  “Afternoon,” Wes agreed. He went up the steps and leaned back against the railing. “What brings you over my way?”

  “I was in the neighborhood.”

  He laughed at Jed’s innocent tone. They both knew the man was quoting Wes’s words—or rather, his lie—from the day of the cookout back at him. Two could play that game. “Well, of course you were.”

  Jed grinned in acknowledgment of the repeated reply. “Nice to see you haven’t lost your sense of humor. Also nice to have you and the kids visiting at the ranch again last weekend.”

  “I was glad we stayed. We had a good time. Great food, nice company.”

  “I did take note of the company you were keeping.”

  Yeah, Jed would. “Then you’d have seen me talking to all the locals and even to a few of your guests.”

  “Mostly to one guest, which is understandable. As you said yourself, Cara’s nice company.”

  Wes hadn’t said that exactly, but trust Jed to rewrite events to fit his own ideas. The only surprise was that the man hadn’t gotten over here sooner to state his case. Instead of trying to change Jed’s mind, an impossibility anyhow, Wes simply said, “If you can wait a few minutes, I’ll get cleaned up properly and offer you a cup of coffee.”

  “Don’t stop what you were doing on my account.”

  No way would he tell Jed about his activities. Not when he’d lined up chores meant to help him avoid his own home. To get distance from memories, old and new.

  “It’s near quitting time anyhow. I got off to an early start today so I could tackle some extra work around here.” Extra work that would keep his mind focused on his job instead of other things. Or other people. “I’m due to pick up the kids from Rhea’s soon.”

  “Yeah, so I heard.”

  “Good thing I don’t try to hide anything from anyone around here. It would be a losing battle.”

  “Still, you’ve managed to keep winning for a while now.” When Wes said nothing, Jed continued, “You have a bad habit of trying to derail conversations, too. We were talking about Cara.”

  “You were talking about Cara.”

  The older man smiled. “So I was. And as I was about to say, you couldn’t go wrong by getting to know her better. For the kids’ sake.”

  If Jed only knew. Wes had already gone wrong in that regard, letting her get comfortable enough to make decisions that should have been left up to him.

  He crossed his arms as if they could form a shield protecting him from Jed’s intentions. “I told you already, we’re doing fine.”

  As Jed stared back at him, for once without arguing, Wes couldn’t keep from asking himself, were they really doing that great? Until lately, he’d have said yes. He’d have said he could single-handedly raise his kids.

  Now he had to factor in recent events, such as Mark’s crying spell at the table on Monday. His refusal to eat supper last night. And Tracey’s stubbornness this morning when, completely unlike her, she had grabbed Mark’s favorite stuffed bear and wouldn’t give it back.

  Considering their actions forced Wes to think twice. Just how successful had he been in taking care of the kids this past year? And how capable was he at doing alone
what he and Patty used to do together?

  As if those worries weren’t enough, he had a new one to add to his list. Had his kids’ recent behavior issues come from Cara’s appearance in their lives—and now, her abrupt disappearance?

  “Good to hear things are going well,” Jed said, jerking him back to their conversation.

  Wes nearly laughed at the irony. Nothing like having someone finally believe you just when you start doubting yourself.

  “We’re all hoping to see you out for the cookout again today,” Jed said.

  “Yeah, well—” Not a chance.

  Luckily, he swallowed those last words in time. No sense taking his irritation over his own actions out on Jed. He had known the man his entire life, and as interfering as he could be, Jed always had the best intentions.

  Why couldn’t he let himself believe the same about Cara?

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  WHAT A DIFFERENCE a couple days could make.

  While last Sunday Cara had been happy for a lazy day at the Hitching Post, today she was glad to have the painting party to keep her busy. To keep her mind occupied and her thoughts away from Wes. Now, she threw herself into organizing supplies in the store’s back room...and still couldn’t keep her mind from wandering.

  Yesterday she had half hoped Wes would show up at the cookout. When he hadn’t, hope gave way to relief. Anyone seeing them together would easily have figured out something was wrong. She couldn’t talk about that, not even with Andi. Not yet. Not when her emotions were all tangled up, like a kitten rolling around with a skein of wool.

  And wasn’t that an appropriate image? If not for Patty Daniels’s knitting and sewing and all her other crafts, Cara might never have spent so much time with Wes and fallen for him and his family.

  Without Wes at the cookout, she had managed to keep everyone, including Andi, from getting suspicious. But her ability to fake it had worn very thin.

  The weekend made her abrupt schedule change less noticeable. What would happen next week, without her invitations to Wes’s for dinner? How would she explain all her free time in the evenings? She couldn’t claim a need to work at the store every night.