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Cowboy In Charge
Barbara White Daille
TIMING IS EVERYTHINGSingle mom Layne Slater thought she’d seen the last of Jason McAndry when he chose the rodeo over her and their unborn son. Now, Jason’s back in Cowboy Creek and just as handsome as ever. But Layne can’t give in to those feelings again. She has to protect her children…and her heart.Jason wants to try to make up for the pain he caused when he left. The least he can do is help Layne while he’s home. Before long, Jason realizes he’s finally ready to be the husband, father, and man his family deserves. But can Jason prove to Layne, that this time, their love is forever?


TIMING IS EVERYTHING
Single mom Layne Slater thought she’d seen the last of Jason McAndry when he chose the rodeo over her and their unborn son. Now Jason’s back in Cowboy Creek and just as handsome as ever. But Layne can’t give in to those feelings again. She has to protect her children…and her heart.
Jason wants to try to make up for the pain he caused when he left. The least he can do is help Layne while he’s home. Before long, Jason realizes he’s finally ready to be the husband, father and man his family deserves. But can Jason prove to Layne that this time, their love is forever?
“I don’t know how you do it with two of them and only one of you.” Jason exhaled heavily and plopped the paper towels into the cart.
“I manage. Normally, my shopping wouldn’t take this long, but we had a lot of extra food to buy.”
“Told you Scott and I cleaned out the cupboards.” He frowned. “You look about ready to drop.”
“I’m tired,” Layne admitted.
“All right, then let’s get you back home.” He took the cart from her and went in the direction of the checkout counter.
No matter what she had said to her friends about Jason leaving soon, this everyday trip to the store had left her daydreaming of what their life might have been like if he had never left. Their few days together had offered her a taste. But along with the daydreams had come a fear big enough to eclipse all the pleasure she had felt.
She was getting too comfortable with Jason again. Was being reminded much too poignantly of the boy she used to love.
The boy who had stopped loving her.
Dear Reader (#ulink_53f5d68e-06c1-531d-a0b2-b099d64b2318),
Ever since I was a little girl, I’ve loved reading series books. I began with mysteries such as The Bobbsey Twins and Encyclopedia Brown, then moved on to The Hardy Boys and Nancy Drew. Once I fell in love with romance, writing a series of books seemed like the perfect fit for me.
Often, my series are tied together by place, and I’ve loved being able to return to my small towns of Dillon, Texas, and Flagman’s Folly, New Mexico. With the Hitching Post Hotel series, I’m thrilled to have many opportunities to come back to Cowboy Creek, New Mexico. But in case you’re wondering, my series are always stand-alone books. Though a hero or heroine may appear in other stories, they reach their happy-ever-after by the end of their book. Because that’s why we read romance, isn’t it?
Whether you’re a frequent visitor to the Hitching Post Hotel or dropping by for the first time, I hope you enjoy your visit. In this story, Grandpa Jed may have run out of granddaughters to marry off, but he’s still in the matchmaking business! And he’s facing his toughest challenge to date with Jason and Layne, who were once married and divorced…from each other.
I’d love to hear what you think of the books. You can get in touch through my website, barbarawhitedaille.com (http://www.barbarawhitedaille.com), or mailing address, PO Box 504, Gilbert, AZ 85299. You can also find me on Facebook and Twitter.
Until we meet again,
Barbara White Daille

Cowboy in Charge
Barbara White Daille


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
BARBARA WHITE DAILLE and her husband still inhabit their own special corner of the wild, wild Southwest, where the summers are long and hot and the lizards and scorpions roam.
Barbara loves looking back at the short stories and two books she wrote in grade school and realizing that—except for the scorpions—she’s doing exactly what she planned. She’s thrilled to have published more than a dozen novels, with more in the works, and is grateful for the readers who love her stories. The awards and top reviews her books have garnered are like icing on her favorite dessert: chocolate cake.
As always, Barbara hopes you will enjoy reading her books. She would love to have you drop by for a visit at her website, barbarawhitedaille.com (http://www.barbarawhitedaille.com).
To everyone who asked to
come back to Cowboy Creek.
I hope you enjoy your return visit with
Grandpa Jed and his family and friends!
And as always, to Rich.
Contents
Cover (#u4fb5c1dc-72a7-5188-b1e4-0aa02b26bf42)
Back Cover Text (#u1f19014a-7862-575d-840b-76908ff06ff1)
Introduction (#u06088ce6-ffaf-5070-b9c4-d732c7aef81b)
Dear Reader (#ua0f8806d-5a6b-572b-9610-4d79238c8893)
Title Page (#ubb0bacc3-5ac0-5ae4-b6c5-bd75309d02e2)
About The Author (#u1e79b6cb-2804-5562-8246-2a392847dada)
Dedication (#u6322321d-f6bd-591d-8fd8-5aaac4fc5469)
Chapter One (#u416b4e4d-43b4-503f-969b-a146b0139915)
Chapter Two (#u83fc2b9b-429e-5eae-8765-0bc6c4a008a4)
Chapter Three (#u17a2bc47-5d24-5b27-a0cf-be953efcf845)
Chapter Four (#u7a30011c-e118-525c-ae31-5524c19f9fcb)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#ulink_54b1eed2-1c65-5d54-b7c5-5ac05188d175)
Spending his afternoon at a kid’s first birthday party normally wouldn’t have made it anywhere near Jason McAndry’s to-do list. As this party was in honor of his buddy’s little girl, he didn’t have a choice.
From his seat on one of the windowsills of the screened-in back porch, he rested his beer bottle on his knee and looked through the sliding glass doors into the house.
Near the crowded dining table, the proud papa hugged his birthday girl, who was all dressed up in pink ruffles with a tiny bow in her nearly nonexistent hair. After one last kiss to her cheek, Greg handed the star of the show over to her mama.
Jason tried for a smile. The man sure did dote on his daughter.
In the three years since they’d met, he and Greg had put in a lot of miles traveling on the rodeo circuit. Back in those early days, they had both been single and fancy-free till Greg had first gotten roped by a woman, then hog-tied into becoming a daddy. Yet his buddy didn’t seem to see things that way.
From that point on, their trips included frequent slide shows as Greg thumbed through the latest photos his wife sent to his cell phone.
Jason shoved his hand into the back pocket of his jeans. His fingertips brushed the edge of his wallet. He had no photos on his phone, carried no pictures except his own on his driver’s license. But in that wallet he’d tucked a now worn and permanently creased copy of another child’s birth announcement.
Greg stepped out onto the porch and slid the glass door closed behind him. He frowned. “What are you doing out here, guarding the beer locker?”
He had left the house to get some space, some breathing room. But he couldn’t say that. “Just came out for a refill.”
Greg nodded at his half-empty bottle. “Doesn’t look like you got one. Or are you ready for another already?”
“No, this one’s still good. And I’ll be driving soon.” He moved to sit in one of the wooden porch benches and set the bottle on the wide arm. “Take a load off. All this master of ceremonies stuff must wear you out.”
“Never.” Greg took a nearby chair. “I’ve got lots of lost time to make up for.”
He meant his absence this season when they had been on the road, competing in rodeos across the country. Mere weeks away in total, while by comparison, Jason hadn’t been back to his hometown in years. He didn’t want to consider why or how he’d left Cowboy Creek. Yet, lately, both had been taking up too much space in his thoughts.
“We’re talking about me hanging up my spurs,” Greg said quietly.
“Giving up rodeo?” He might have done the same at one point. Now he couldn’t imagine making that choice. But Greg had his family to come back to. He had...himself.
Inside the house, both sides of Greg’s family had gathered around his wife and little girl, all of them making too much noise for them to overhear this conversation, even with the windows wide-open on this mild January day. But, like his buddy, he kept his voice low. “You really want to leave your share of the winnings to me?”
Greg laughed. “Yeah, I wouldn’t mind. You’re welcome to them. I don’t want to miss out on any more of my daughter’s life. And we want more kids. Soon, not down the road.” He swallowed a mouthful of beer, then continued, “Do you ever regret what happened with you and your wife?”
He stiffened. The question had come out of nowhere. Sure, he’d told Greg a long time ago that he’d gotten divorced before he’d hit the rodeo trail. What he hadn’t told him was that had come to pass partly because of his refusal to hang up his spurs. That was only one item on a long list of his ex-wife’s grievances.
After that lone conversation, he and Greg had never discussed it again. He had a feeling he knew why his buddy had brought it up now. “Listen, you may be settling into a rut as an old married man, but don’t go getting any ideas about me joining you in the trenches.”
“There’s a lot to be said about having a family to come home to.”
“Yeah, and there’s a lot I don’t need to say about that.” On that long-ago night over a few too many beers, he had told Greg all about the girl he’d left behind. The high-school-sweetheart-turned-wife who’d turned against him after their last rip-roaring fight. The wife who had wound up kicking him out of their apartment, the only place that had ever felt like home to him. He should have known better than to expect that to last. “Best day of my life, when I started following the rodeo.”
“I thought that, too, once upon a time.”
He rolled his eyes and exhaled heavily. “And if you’re planning to practice your storytelling skills on me, I may just take off again right now.”
“Can’t do that. We haven’t even had the cake yet.” Greg glanced into the house at the crowd around the table in the direction of a leggy redhead, one of his wife’s friends. “How’d the hot date go last night?”
Jason glanced at her, too, then away again. “It went cold fast,” he said shortly. He took another swig from his nearly empty bottle, partly to get the last mouthful of beer but mostly to distract Greg from more questions.
When he’d rung the doorbell of the woman’s apartment last night, she had come to the door dressed to kill. Her shiny blouse wouldn’t have needed more than a touch to slide right off, but the skintight leather pants sure would have required some assistance. Of course, considering her friendship with Greg’s wife and the fact it was a first date, his run around those bases would have happened only in his dreams.
“That was our first and last date,” he said firmly to Greg.
His interest had worn off quickly when she stepped out into the hallway. She began to pull the door closed so abruptly, she would have crushed her little boy in the gap—if Jason hadn’t yelled a warning at her. In her defense, the kid had appeared out of nowhere. And that’s just where she had sent him off to again.
The boy looked about five, not nearly old enough to be left alone, Jason knew. He’d been seven the first time his mother left him on his own, and even that wasn’t old enough. But after the first half-dozen times, he’d toughened up fast.
Yet this woman simply gave the boy an order to step back before she closed the door. No goodbye kiss or cuddle, not even a last-minute rumpling of his hair. And without a sign of anybody else in the house.
“You want to settle him in before we leave?” he asked while they still stood outside her apartment.
“Don’t worry about him. I’ve got a sitter.”
Her offhand care of the child left him wanting to shake his head in wonder. And then to cringe in shame. Who was he to criticize? And yet, the incident had left a sour taste in his mouth. Their evening had gone downhill from there, ending in an early night. When he arrived at the party this afternoon, they had nodded at each other as if they’d just met, then went their separate ways. No problem there. He’d become an expert at moving on.
Greg eyed him. “Don’t you think it might be time to forget about your ex and—”
“Long forgotten already,” he said firmly.
“—find yourself another woman? This time next year, you could have a little girl or boy of your own.”
“Already got one.” Dang. He hadn’t meant to blurt that out. He owed the slip to his unease over last night and to the months Greg had been preoccupied with his baby. Thoughts of his own child had been on his mind so often lately, the words had come out almost naturally.
Greg stared at him. “Well, listen to this. You picked up a woman and never said a word to me?”
Yeah, he could go with that story and continue to keep his secret to himself.
No, he couldn’t. Greg wouldn’t rest until he’d learned every last thing he could about someone who didn’t exist. Sighing, he admitted, “Not a woman. I meant I’ve got a little boy.”
The other man’s jaw dropped for a moment. Then he grinned. “You’re kidding. How old?”
“Three.”
“I don’t believe this. For as long as I’ve known you, you’ve had a son, and you never thought to tell me a word about him? Not even after I started bragging about becoming a daddy?”
“Guess not.”
“Obviously not. Why didn’t you say something, man?”
Inside the house, Greg’s little girl gave a high-pitched giggle. He could picture her a year ago in the photo on Greg’s phone, all wrapped up in a pink-and-white baby blanket. He could see other views of her as she grew bigger, sprouted a little more hair, cut a couple of teeth.
Ages and stages he’d never gotten to see with his son. Thoughts he’d never had until a few months ago. Memories he’d never missed until Greg started with those danged photos.
Those memories had hit him hard last night, when his date had walked away from her child without a second look.
Her action was too similar to the thoughts he’d been dwelling on for months now. Too close to what he had once done to leave him in any mood for enjoying the evening. When he had left his hometown, he hadn’t been a daddy yet. Hell, he still wasn’t. Not in the full sense of the word. But he’d known the baby was on the way. And still, without once looking back, he’d walked away from his unborn son.
Shrugging, he looked at Greg. “What’s there to say?”
“The boy’s name, for starters. Who he takes after. When he was born, and where he is now.”
“Back in Cowboy Creek.”
“You’ve seen the boy?”
He shook his head.
The look on Greg’s face made him wish he hadn’t refused another beer. Giving his buddy the chance to play host might have derailed this entire conversation. “My wife was pregnant when we split up. I left town, and we never kept in touch.”
Greg sat looking at him as if he’d just sprouted a second pair of hands. “That’s not you, man. What the hell happened?”
He shrugged. “It was almost four years ago. You weren’t you then, either. We’ve both changed since then. Both grown up. Back then I was young and stupid,” he admitted, “and still too focused on the wrong things. Like having a good time and hanging out at the Cantina in Cowboy Creek with my friends. Like getting drunk and getting laid. And to hear my ex tell it, like funneling our cash reserves into any rodeo that ever happened by.”
He had his reasons for wanting to enter those rodeos, for needing to win, but Layne saw the cash going toward entry fees and believed only that he was wasting money they needed for other things. “She didn’t appreciate any of that, especially when she sat at home dealing with morning sickness.” He laughed, trying to shrug off his guilt. “How the heck can they call it morning sickness when it seems to last all day?”
“You got me there. But that still doesn’t tell me why you walked.”
He grasped the neck of his beer bottle in both hands. All these years later, the memory of that last fight still made him tense like a spring-coiled wire. “I didn’t walk, at least not at first. Not until my ex threw me out.”
I’d be better off without you. Layne’s voice had cracked on the words but she’d stood firm, her arms crossed over her chest and her chin held high. Her eyes were bright, not with the softness of tears but with the hard flint of anger.
“We’d gotten to the point we couldn’t say good morning without it leading to a fight,” he admitted. “When she told me to leave, I decided I was doing the right thing by going.”
“And your boy?”
Again, he shrugged. “She was only a few months pregnant. I’ve never laid eyes on the kid.”
“But you took care of him? You sent money home?”
“Sure, I did. Every month. And every month the envelope came back marked ‘return to sender.’” And the sight of Layne’s handwriting on every envelope that came in the mail acted like acid on an old burn, opening up the same wound.
You’ve left me alone one too many times, she had said the night he’d come home to find she’d piled his packed and travel-worn duffel bags outside their apartment door.
Then those envelopes had come back to him one too many times, and he’d finally given up sending them. Given up hope. Given up thoughts of ever seeing his son.
He shoved his hand into his back pocket again, grazing his wallet and running the details of the newspaper clipping inside it silently through his mind.
Scott Andrew Slater.
Born not to Layne McAndry but to Layne Marie Slater. She’d taken back her maiden name and put not one mention of his in the birth announcement. She had very likely wiped his memory from her mind.
Just as he’d forced himself to do to her for all these years.
* * *
JASON RAISED HIS fist in front of the apartment door, flinched as second thoughts hit him, and lowered his arm again.
Removing his Stetson, he scrubbed his forehead with one hand and assured himself he was doing the right thing. Close contact with two kids within two days last week had to mean something.
Yeah, something like fate deciding to rear up and head-butt him in the face, the way Burning Sage had almost done in that final ride in Cheyenne. The bull had wanted to take him down. Fate most likely just wanted to knock some sense into him.
Too late for that. He was here.
He raised his fist again and rapped on the apartment door. The wood sounded hollow, just the way his chest felt—if you didn’t count his heart banging against his ribs.
Inside the apartment, a television’s volume dipped, then a little boy’s voice cried, “Mommy!” in stunned outrage. A second later, the doorknob rattled. The door swung open, and he stood staring at the girl he’d left behind.
The wife he’d left behind.
She looked like hell warmed over twice.
Her beautiful golden-brown hair had been pulled up and stuck every which way by a couple of plastic combs. Her skin was paler than he remembered, her nose glowed as red as the taillights on his truck, and her sky blue eyes looked as glassy and bloodshot as if she hadn’t slept for a week.
Those eyes... In this situation, most folks’ eyes would have widened in surprise. Instead, she blinked once and went blank-faced, the way she had always done when confronted with something that shocked or alarmed her. Right now, he imagined she had received a double dose of both.
“Jason?” Her voice came out in a croak. She reached up to rest her hand against the gaping neckline of her fuzzy blue robe.
The ragged tissue she held couldn’t hide the sight of creamy skin patterned with a few small freckles. The vision did more for him than a slip-sliding blouse or skintight leather. It also triggered memories and feelings he forced himself to push aside. This conversation would be hard enough. He didn’t need his body following suit. To combat the reaction, he took another deep breath and let it out. “Layne.”
She covered a rattling cough with her forearm. “What do you want?”
Though he should have expected it, he was taken aback by the belligerent tone. He hadn’t been ready for the question, either. Despite the long drive from Dallas, Texas, to Cowboy Creek, New Mexico, he hadn’t prepared much for this meeting. Big mistake. He sure couldn’t tell her he’d come back to make certain his son was in good hands. “I know it’s been a while—”
“A while?” She coughed again, then shook her head, most likely in annoyance at him. “It’s been almost four years since we’ve seen each other, and we’ve had no contact except filing for the divorce—”
“And—”
“—which made the split permanent.”
“I know it did, but—”
“Legally permanent,” she said heavily, leaning forward as if to emphasize her point.
He frowned.
She kept coming. The quick glance he caught of her suddenly greenish pallor clued him in. She was halfway to unconsciousness and ready to drop.
As he caught her to him, the door behind her swung open. A little boy stood just inside the frame. And somewhere in the apartment behind the kid, a baby let out an earsplitting screech.
* * *
LAYNE DID THE best she could with toothbrush and mouthwash and comb, but it wasn’t much. And it was quick.
The symptoms she had been battling for two days now had gotten worse instead of better, and the short time on her feet showed her just how shaky this flu had left her. She gave thanks that when she had gone to answer the door, she hadn’t been holding the baby.
The last thing she remembered before passing out was the look of alarm on Jason’s face. When she had come to, she found herself cradled like a baby herself in his arms. She had fainted for only a second, he assured her. Still, ignoring her protests, he carried her into the small living room and deposited her on the couch.
Moments later, her stomach had heaved and she had bolted and here she was now, hiding in her bathroom the way she and her friends had hidden in the girls’ room at school when they wanted to exchange gossip about the boys.
The only boy she’d ever had eyes for was Jason.
She heard her son’s footsteps as he marched down the hall. He came to a stop in the bathroom doorway. As awful as she felt, she couldn’t help but smile at the sight of him. He and Jill were the lights of her life. Suddenly, he frowned, his eyebrows bunching together. She inhaled sharply, which led to another bout of coughing. Scott had her blue eyes and brown hair, but his frowning expression was pure Jason.
“Mommy sick?” he asked.
“Mommy’s better,” she said. She just didn’t know how long that would last.
“I’m hungry.”
The thought of food made her stomach quiver. “No problem, honey. How about—”
“Soup?”
She nodded. Luckily, she had made chicken soup a few weeks ago. The surplus she had stored in the freezer had gotten her through these past couple of days. She still had a large bowl of the soup in the refrigerator.
“Yes-s-s. Es-s-s. Soup for Scott for supper,” he chanted in a singsong, laughing. He was learning the alphabet from his babysitter, who ran a day care from her house. To reinforce his lessons, here at home she played sound and word games with him. The sentence game was his favorite, and she had been so proud of him the day he’d created that sentence all by himself.
“Yes, soup for Scott for supper,” she repeated in a singsong. “That sounds super, sweetie.”
He laughed again. “That man will have soup, too?”
She froze. No, that man will be long gone by suppertime. “I’m not sure about that.” She looked at the small clock she kept on the bathroom vanity and realized it was time to wake her daughter from her nap. “Come on, let’s go get the baby and start that soup.”
“Start soup for Scott for supper,” he chanted, his voice fading as he went back down the hall toward the living room.
She tightened the long belt of her fuzzy robe and took one last look in the mirror. The teenage girl who had once fallen for Jason cringed and longed to reach for her makeup bag. But the woman she’d become lifted her chin and nodded at the reflection in the mirror.
Let him deal with her just the way she was now. It served him right for showing up unannounced after all this time.
She wasn’t about to recall the way her heart had pounded and her head had swum and a tremor had run through her when she had opened the door to find him standing in the hallway. They were all simply reactions to the flu—and anyone could have passed out after getting hit with all those symptoms.
She also wasn’t about to dwell on the past or worry about the intervening years or feel embarrassed by what had happened just a few minutes ago. She was going to get rid of Jason. Again. And hope this time he stayed gone.
As she turned to leave the bathroom, Scott began to yell. “Help! Help! You’re not my daddy! Leave my sister alone!”
Every single word he screeched made her heart sink faster. She hurried down the hall and burst into the living room.
The baby lay in her playpen on the opposite side of the room, closer to the kitchen. Her beet-red face and gleaming eyes were sure signs she had woken up cranky and crying.
And, lost in thought, her mommy hadn’t heard a peep.
Scott had taken a stance with his back to the playpen and his arms outstretched toward Jason as if holding a wild animal at bay. Jason stood a couple of feet from him, his hands patting the air presumably to calm her son.
Fighting another wave of dizziness, she put her hand on the door frame. “What’s going on?” she demanded.
Chapter Two (#ulink_4eac0717-2d9d-5a93-81ab-811d448d8173)
Jason froze. Wasn’t it bad enough to have the kid yelling and fending him off as if he were a tiger ready to pounce? He didn’t need Layne standing there looking at him as if she considered him something much worse.
With a jerky movement, he showed her the yellow plastic pacifier he was holding. “I didn’t know how long you’d be, and she looked like she was getting ready to start bawling up a storm again.”
“Again?”
Confusion replaced her rebellious tone, making him swallow his irritation. She must not have recovered from her earlier fainting spell as completely as he’d thought she had. He nodded. “She was crying when I carried you in here and going even stronger when you bolted.”
“Oh.” Still looking shaky, she started across the room.
“Sit on the couch. I’ll bring the baby to you.”
When he moved forward, the boy tensed. “You’re not my—”
“It’s okay, Scott,” Layne said quickly.
“But Miss Rhea says—”
“I know. But I’m right here, and I know this man.”
Still eyeing him suspiciously, the kid stepped aside. “Okay. We can have soup now? I’m hungry.”
The baby let out another screech. Jason put the pacifier in her mouth and bent over to lift her, supporting her head with one hand the way he’d seen Greg do with his daughter. Good thing he had. She couldn’t have weighed much more than a kitten, but she was twice as wiggly and not nearly as cute with that red, wrinkled face. Sort of like her mama right now.
He’d think about that—and worry about whose kid she was—later. Layne looked ready to drop again, but if he didn’t move soon, she would probably refuse to wait until he carried the baby over to her. He hurried across the room. “Sit,” he said gruffly. “You don’t want to take the chance of standing with her and passing out a second time, do you?”
She sank to the couch and took the baby from him. The girl immediately stopped crying and nuzzled the front of Layne’s robe like a calf looking for her mama’s milk.
“What’s that about soup?” he asked.
“That’s okay. I’ll get it in a minute.”
“Mommy, I’m hung-ry,” the boy called. He still stood near the playpen as if he were afraid to get closer.
“You’re not the only one, honey.” The baby nuzzled again, and Layne raised her hand to her robe.
“Hey.” He backed a step. “I’m just standing around taking up space. My cooking skills stretch as far as opening a can and putting a pot on the stove.”
“Thanks,” she said stiffly, “but we’ll do just fine on our own. I hate to ask you to leave...”
I want you to go. Her eyes, looking like a couple of cold blue stones, got her point across as loud and clear and emphatically as her words had done a few years ago. Then, he had turned and walked out. Because he’d been a complete ass. Not without provocation, however. Seeing his packed bags at the front doorstep when he got home had warned him what to expect. Layne’s response when he’d entered the apartment had underscored the message.
“Mo-mmy.”
She looked past him to the boy and then back again. Now her gaze didn’t quite meet his. “All right. The soup’s not from a can. It’s homemade. And the bowl is on the top shelf of the fridge.” The baby let out a screech.
He half turned to the boy. “Come on, pardner, let’s go get you some supper.”
The boy looked at his mama, who offered him a nod of encouragement. Then he gave Jason a long, frowning look. “Okay,” he said finally, his brow clearing. Getting that seal of approval made Jason stand taller. “Soup for Scott for supper.”
“Yeah. Show me the way to the kitchen.” The boy took off at a trot past the playpen. Jason’s boots pounded against the bare flooring as he followed at almost the same speed. He sure didn’t want to be around to watch Layne taking care of the baby.
Red nose, rumpled hair and bloodshot eyes aside, she was still the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen. Seeing any more of her as she opened her robe would only stir up memories best tucked away for good.
He found the soup where she’d directed and snagged a pot from the cabinet the boy pointed out to him.
“I help.” His designated assistant...his son walked him through finding cups and bowls and spoons.
In amazement, Jason watched the little guy. Once that front door had opened, events had moved too rapidly for him to take everything in. Now the situation hit him and, for a minute, his legs threatened to go out from under him the way Layne’s had.
Back in Dallas, his thoughts had been on making sure the boy was okay, that Layne was taking proper care of him and not just shutting him out of her life, shunting him to a sitter. And somewhere in the back of his mind, he’d convinced himself that having this confirmation would help make up for his own shortcomings.
Now he was home again and standing in an apartment not unlike the one he and Layne had shared when they got married. And he was getting supper ready...with his son.
His legs felt shaky again.
“I get napkins,” the boy said.
“Sounds good.”
He watched the child move around the room, seeming confident for a kid his age. That was the difference between being taught to be independent and having it forced on you, overwhelming you with the effort needed to survive. Assuming Layne had instilled that confidence in the boy, he gave her a lot of credit.
They set the table together. The room was filled with the sounds of spoons clanking against the table and the smell of chicken broth wafting from the pot on the stove. He wondered if someone had brought the soup over for Layne. Maybe she had made it herself. If so, she had turned into more of a homebody than she’d been when they had gotten married. Back then, they had stayed too busy in the bedroom to give her a chance to develop much skill in the kitchen.
Other memories he would do better to tuck away.
Scott stood looking at the almost neatly laid table. He frowned. “We can eat supper on the couch? And watch TV?”
“I don’t know about that. Your mama and your sister have taken over those seats right now.” Recalling the words the boy had screeched at him made him wince. He knew the worries the kid would have, thanks to what Miss Rhea—whoever she was—had taught him. Understandably, he’d feel nervous, especially after watching a man he’d never before seen carry his mama into the apartment, and then seeing her run away. No wonder he was worried about that same man going near his baby sister.
Keeping an eye out for strangers had been one of the first things he’d learned as a child, and since then, the world had become a much scarier place. He didn’t know how Layne took care of the kids by herself.
If she was on her own. There was the infant to account for, after all.
But if she had a man in her life, surely as sick as she was and with two babies to care for, the guy wouldn’t have gone off and left—
He shoved the rest of the thought aside before it could take root in his mind.
What a jackass he’d once been. What a predicament he was in now.
This extended reunion had derailed his plan to take care of business and move on. Instead, he needed to take charge.
* * *
SHE HADN’T EXPECTED Jason to put on enough soup for all three of them, but he announced he had done exactly that. And when Scott came to take her hand to lead her to the kitchen, she couldn’t say no. To tell the truth, with nothing in her stomach, she needed the nourishment, needed to get her strength back so she could take care of the kids and get Jason out of her life again.
Their awkward dinner would have taken place in near-silence if not for her son’s chatter all through the meal and dessert.
She focused on getting her few spoonfuls of soup to her mouth without spilling anything...and on trying to keep her gaze on her soup bowl and away from her ex. And failing miserably. Every time he walked away from the table, she couldn’t help sneaking a peek, couldn’t help watching the way his muscles flexed beneath his gray T-shirt as he reached for dishes from the cabinet and the way his faded jeans pulled tight when he leaned down to pull the container of milk from the refrigerator.
When Scott had finished eating, Jason rose and began gathering up the dishes. He had taken control of her tiny kitchen and, worse, dominated her space. She was finding it hard to breathe, let alone keep her head upright. “Leave the dishes, please,” she said. “I can take care of them.”
“I don’t think so.”
He locked gazes with her. She managed to take a steadying breath and turn to Scott. “Honey, how about you go and get into your jammies for Mommy?”
“No, Mommy. I play with cars. Please?”
She smiled. “Well, we’ll see. But jammies first. They’re on your bed. You go get started, okay?”
He slid from his booster chair and left the room.
Slowly, she turned to face her ex-husband again. He had set the dishes in the sink. Hips settled back against the counter, he stood with his arms crossed and his biceps bulging against his T-shirt sleeves and his frown looking too much like Scott’s for her liking. This situation was all too much for her and had been from the moment she had seen him standing in her hallway.
“Jason.” Anger at him and irritation at herself made her hiss his name. “Just who do you think you are to tell me what I can and can’t do in my own kitchen?”
“Just the guy who carried you back into the house after you passed out.”
“It was only for a second. You told me that yourself.”
“I lied.”
Her breath caught. “Why?”
“The baby was wailing and the boy looked scared to death and you sure didn’t seem in any shape for more bad news at that moment. The moment right before you ran off to toss your cookies. Remember that?”
“Yes,” she snapped. She appreciated that he had been there at the time, but she didn’t like having to feel grateful to him for anything. She didn’t want to feel anything for him at all. “Then, thank you for carrying me in and taking care of supper. But I’m fine now. You can go.”
He opened his arms wide, unknowingly allowing her a look at well-defined pecs and six-pack abs. He gestured around the room. “You’re on the verge of collapse, and you expect me to leave you by yourself with two kids? What kind of man would that make me?”
“As far as I recall, the same kind who walked out when I was pregnant with one of those kids.”
A muscle in his jaw worked hard, telling her he was having trouble holding back another response. The sight made her uneasy, not out of fear of him but from her memories of past fights. No matter how often they argued, he had almost always been better at hanging on to his anger than she had.
“You refused to talk to me,” he said finally, his tone harsh but even. “And you kicked me out. Have you got a recollection of that day, too?”
“Yes,” she snapped. “I remember it very well.”
“Great. Then remember this, too. I didn’t drop in only to say hello. I...I want to talk with you. But that can wait until you’re feeling better again. I’ll go. As soon as you call someone and they show up to stay with you.” He crossed his arms again. “Dammit, Layne, you always were the most stubborn...”
It was his turn to take a deep breath. She bit her lip to keep from responding.
“Look,” he continued, “you could barely handle the baby when she started squirming. And you were hanging on to the kitchen table with one hand while you stood up to strap her into her seat. You want to risk a serious accident while you’re alone with the kids?”
She flushed. “Of course not.”
“Then—”
“I don’t have anyone to call.”
“The baby’s daddy—”
“He’s not in the picture,” she said shortly.
She could see him hesitate, as if her admission had thrown him. But he simply said, “What about your brother?”
“No. Cole’s the best man in a wedding, and tonight’s the rehearsal dinner. Everybody I know is involved one way or another in prepping for the wedding. Or they’re working. That’s where I would have been, too, if I hadn’t called in sick.”
“You have a job, along with taking care of two kids?”
She nodded. “I waitress at SugarPie’s.” She had started working at the small sandwich shop in the center of town after Jason had left. “Which means they’re shorthanded without me there now, too.”
“Well, that settles it.” He returned to his seat across from her at the table and leaned forward until they were almost nose to nose. “You’ve got yourself an overnight guest.”
“No. I’ll find someone else to help me out.” Anyone else. She shot to her feet to stare him down. The defiant movement did her in. Light-headed, she staggered, then struggled to regain her balance. The small amount of soup she had eaten churned in her stomach. With one hand over her mouth, she fled from the room.
Even as she hurried toward the bathroom, she frantically ran down a mental list of all her friends. Surely she could find one person who wasn’t working and would come to her rescue.
Because Jason couldn’t stay here all night.
* * *
LAYNE AWOKE WITH a start to find she still held the cordless phone. Frantically, she looked around the living room. The baby lay asleep in the playpen. Scott sprawled on the floor with his toy cars spread out around him.
Across from her, Jason sat in one of the overstuffed armchairs. He was flipping through a newspaper but looked up as soon as she shifted upright. “You went out like a TV with its plug yanked from the socket,” he told her.
“Sorry.” Her voice cracked. She prayed the dry spot in her throat wasn’t the beginning of strep. The flu symptoms were enough to deal with. “How long was I asleep?”
“About an hour.”
While he sat there and did her job, watching over her kids.
Sighing, she turned her attention to her son. “Bedtime, Scott.”
He frowned. “No, Mommy. I play with cars. Look, my race cars.” He pointed to a sheet of cardboard propped up by some of his plastic blocks that seemed to be serving as a motorway for his entire auto collection. At that moment, she didn’t have the energy to argue, and an extra half hour or so of playtime wouldn’t hurt him.
What hurt her was having to see Scott and his daddy together.
“Very nice,” she managed. “Did you do that all by yourself?”
“No. Jason maked it.”
“Oh.” She looked at her ex. “Between getting supper and overseeing road construction, you seem to have maked yourself right at home.”
“You’ll thank me for that once I’ve gone and maked you a cup of tea for that throat.”
He laughed, and the sound did things to her insides that had nothing to do with the flu. She crossed her arms over her chest, fighting a sudden shiver she couldn’t blame on her illness, either. He frowned, and once again the resemblance to Scott made her breath catch. Over the years, she had tried not to notice the likenesses between her son and Jason. But seeing the two of them together only made the similarities between them undeniable.
Having the man right here in front of her only reinforced too many memories that had never completely faded.
“Have you got symptoms of anything else I should know about, besides flu?” he asked. “Judging by the way you crashed, I already suspect you’ve got sleeping sickness, too.”
“Not that. At least, not yet. The only other thing I’ve got is called middle-of-the-night nursing fatigue. And of course, just generally being a mom.” She swallowed, wincing at the dryness of her throat.
He rose. “I’ll take care of that tea. How do you drink it?”
“Milk, no sugar,” she said. As unhappy as accepting his offer made her feel, at this moment, she needed the warmth and comfort of the drink more than she needed control of the situation.
She ought to push him, to find out why he was here, to ask why he suddenly had something to say to her after all these years. At the reminder of his flat statement, uneasiness ran through her. But she just couldn’t face interrogating him right now. Her head was swimming and her eyes felt watery, and the chills—a brand-new symptom—couldn’t be a good sign at all, no matter whether they stemmed from her illness or her ex.
Jill continued to sleep peacefully and Scott sat engrossed in his car race. She took the opportunity to rest her eyes again until she heard the sound of the kettle whistling.
When Jason returned to the living room, he set two steaming mugs of tea on the coffee table.
“Jason, help,” her son called. She looked in his direction and saw the cardboard raceway had slid from its supporting blocks and lay flat on the rug.
Jason went down on one knee beside Scott. Their matching expressions of concentration as they surveyed the fallen raceway shouted the fact they were father and son.
The observation made her throat tighten to the point of dry painfulness again. She grabbed the mug of tea. The warmth stung her mouth but soothed her throat and eased her chills. By the time Jason came back to take his seat, she had pulled herself together. Mostly.
“Any luck with your calls?”
She shook her head. Before falling asleep, she had contacted everyone she could think of who might be able to help her tonight. She was reluctant to admit defeat, but what else could she do? Besides, though she had heard dishes clattering and water running in the background while she made the calls, in this small apartment chances were good he had overheard almost all of her conversations.
“My options were limited,” she confessed. “Most of the people I know are either attending the rehearsal dinner or involved in setting up for the wedding. Another few have plans for the night, and the rest have the flu bug themselves.” She slumped back against the couch.
She would never admit it to him, but all the phone calls had worn her out. Of course, he had probably caught on to that by now, too. How could she have fallen asleep? She bit her lip and winced as the skin burned. Probably a sign of dehydration.
What else could go wrong tonight?
Jason stared at her over the rim of his tea mug. “I’m staying,” he announced.
Chapter Three (#ulink_5ef88131-6459-5158-8ae1-edb4d610ff91)
The bull bearing down on him let out a bloodcurdling scream.
Jason jolted awake, jumped up from his seat in the armchair, cracked his shin against the coffee table and tripped over his boots, all at the speed of light. Another scream later, he made the connection between the onrushing bull and the baby down the hall.
He stumbled toward the bedroom Layne’s kids shared. The glow of the night-light she had turned on showed him the way. But who needed a night-light when the high-pitched cries left no doubt about the right direction.
Scott lay curled up in a ball on the bed, apparently oblivious to the noise. His sister flailed her arms and legs and continued to scream, her face beet red in stark contrast to the pale yellow crib sheet.
He lifted the wriggling mass of baby. Afraid he would drop her, he brought her against his chest. She hiccupped a few times, then started rubbing her cheek against his shirt.
No way. He knew the game she wanted to play, and he didn’t have the right equipment.
Reluctantly, he left the room and headed down the hall.
By now, he expected to see Layne coming to meet him, but there was no sign of her. He frowned. Considering what he’d heard about most new mothers, she would have to be comatose not to respond to her baby’s screams.
He hovered in the doorway of her room. When he’d announced he was staying, he had expected a scream from her, too, or at least a healthy protest. Her sighing acceptance and quick disappearance into her room after she’d put the kids to bed surprised him. They were also sure signs of how sick she must feel.
Her bedside clock read 2:38 a.m.
He hated having to wake her, but he had a hunch the baby’s screams had halted only temporarily, and when they started up again, he would be in a worse predicament than he was now.
“Layne?” he said from the doorway.
She didn’t move.
“Hey, Layne. The baby’s hungry.” And needing a change, judging by the warm weight of the pajama-clad bottom against his palm.
No sign of movement across the room. He went to the bed, then rested his hand on her shoulder and shook gently. “Hey, babe... Layne. Hey, Layne, wake up.” Was that the sound of desperation in his voice? Over the suddenly renewed screams from the infant, he couldn’t tell.
Now she stirred, rolling over onto her back. The pink sleep T-shirt she’d worn to bed twisted across her chest, leaving the deep neckline askew and barely covering her. He averted his gaze and tried to soothe the squirming baby, who had begun wriggling and twisting against his chest.
In desperation, he clicked on the bedside lamp. “Layne, wake up.”
She blinked a few times. Squinting in the light, she shifted to a seated position and leaned against the headboard. She reached up to take the baby from him. “Oh-h-h,” she cooed to the child, “somebody needs a change.”
Her voice was low and sleep-sexy and made him think of things he needed, too. Another list of thoughts that were best forgotten. “How are you feeling?” he asked.
She didn’t answer immediately, and he knew she didn’t want to tell him the truth. “Awful,” she said finally. She gestured toward the dresser. “Can you toss me that baby blanket, please? And there’s a diaper bag on the shelf just inside the closet.”
He handed her the lightweight blanket and found the bag.
“Normally,” she murmured, her attention fixed on the baby, “I’m up and out of bed the second Jill lets out a cry. And now I didn’t even hear her wake up.”
“You’ve got reason.”
Still looking away, she nodded. “I have to admit, I don’t know what would have happened if you weren’t here. Thank you.”
“No problem.” But there was a problem. What good was gratitude if she gave it grudgingly? If she couldn’t even look him in the face?
She finished diapering Jill and cuddled the baby to her. In a low voice, she asked, “Why are you here?”
And there was another problem.
He had been about to lean against the edge of the dresser. Her question made him freeze. He still couldn’t tell her the complete truth—not without the risk of having her kick him out again.
He told her a half-truth instead. “I wanted to see how things are going with you.”
“Why?”
He shrugged. “Why not? We’d been together for—”
“Jason,” she said quietly, “please don’t try that one on me.”
“All right, then. I wanted to see my son.”
“My son,” she corrected. “For all the contact you’ve had with him, you could have been a sperm donor.”
* * *
JASON STOOD IN the doorway of the kids’ room and watched his son rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Sitting in the middle of the double mattress, he looked so young and innocent. So small. Almost as small as the stuffed teddy bear and dilapidated panda taking up space on either side of him.
A minute ago, he had heard Scott calling for him and come at a run, hoping to keep the boy’s cries from wakening the baby and, in turn, the baby from wakening Layne. Considering the occasional sounds of Layne’s bedsprings creaking and, once, of her footsteps padding to the bathroom and back in the early hours, it had taken her till daybreak to get to sleep again.
“Morning now?” Scott asked.
“Yeah,” Jason confirmed.
This morning had come fast and furiously for him, with no sleep at all once he had left Layne’s room.
Furious couldn’t begin to describe his reaction to her verbal slam. Sperm donor. A helluva thing to say to a man. Even if there had been one grain of truth in it, she had no call to dump the full silo load of responsibility on him. He wasn’t the only one involved in how things had turned out.
He reached for the teddy bear for something to occupy his mind and hands. The bear looked well loved, with its fur matted in some places and its cloth body worn bare in others. Had Scott gotten the bear as a birthday gift? Had he slept with it ever since? Did he like it better than the panda he had just grabbed from the bed?
“Have to hug Teddy,” Scott said.
“What?”
“Morning now. Have to hug Teddy,” Scott said again. He wrapped his arms around the panda hard enough to squeeze the stuffing from it. “See?”
Jason froze. He was a rodeo rider and a hard-riding wrangler, and he didn’t hug anything that wasn’t female and wearing a dress and willing to hug him back. He didn’t do stuffed animals.
“Have to hug Teddy,” Scott said yet again.
He could hear the slight tremor in the boy’s voice and see his puzzled frown. Evidently, Layne had made those early-morning hugs a family tradition. He swallowed hard, trying to ease the lump in his throat. “Yeah,” he mumbled. “Hug Teddy.” Feeling like a fool, he wrapped his arms around the little cloth body. Feeling worse, he watched the smile brighten his son’s face and wished he could hug his boy instead.
How many mornings like this had he missed over the years? He didn’t want to think about it, refused to count the days. There would be too many for him to handle and way too many for him ever to replace.
Scott glanced toward the crib. Jason looked in that direction, too, and saw Jill staring wide-eyed at the mobile of puppies and kittens hanging at one end of the crib. Could babies her age even see that far? She looked only a few weeks old.
Scott threw aside his covers and crawled to the edge of the bed. “Morning now. Mommy says time to do the diaper. De-e-e,” he said in a singsong. “Time to do the diaper.”
Jason frowned, knowing he’d have to draw the line there. He’d just mastered the task of tucking Jill into her crib without waking her, and even that had about taxed his skill.
But Scott padded over to the small white dresser and pulled a diaper from the bottom drawer. He returned to stand in front of Jason with the diaper held out toward him and with the same expression of expectancy as when he had wanted him to hug the bear. A look of complete trust.
He suddenly wished Layne would look at him that way.
Even better at the moment, he wished Layne would wake up and walk into the room.
“I’m green at this, pardner,” he admitted, taking the diaper.
“Green?” Scott said, looking at him with his mouth open, probably expecting to see him turn into an alien before his very eyes.
“A greenhorn,” he explained, feeling foolish again. How could he explain that concept to a three-year-old? How could he explain anything when he’d never had the practice? The chance? All he could do was try. “It means I’m new at this. A beginner. Someone who’s just learning.”
“I learn my ABC’s!” Scott grinned.
He smiled back at him. “Yeah, that’s it. Just like you learn your ABC’s. I’m a greenhorn at doing diapers.”
“De-e-e,” the boy chanted again. “Greenhorn at doing diapers.”
This time, Jason laughed aloud and ruffled the boy’s hair.
Why couldn’t he be such a quick study?
It was a sobering idea. Especially when he connected the thought to getting what he wanted from Layne.
In the years he’d been gone, once he’d stopped sending her those envelopes she kept returning, he’d given up worrying about her. She was an adult. She could take care of herself—as she had made all too plain to him. No doubt about it, the woman had a way with words.
But the boy...
When he’d left, the child hadn’t been close to being born yet, hadn’t even made his appearance evident in the swelling of Layne’s belly. Hadn’t, somehow, been real to him. Now, his son was very real, as smart as a whip and as loving as his mama. A little boy his daddy could be—and was—proud to know was his.
But could he be the kind of man, the kind of daddy, to make his little boy proud of him?
* * *
FOR THE TENTH time already that morning, Layne sighed. Her comment to Jason last night about being her son’s sperm donor had been cruel—and yet it certainly had been truthful. In any case, Jill’s fresh cries to be fed had saved her from having to hear his response. He had left the room at a speed she would have found laughable...if not for the thoughts that assailed her as she watched him walk out the door.
He had taken one look at her getting ready to nurse and had bolted, just as he’d done in the living room earlier. The sight made her think of so many shoulds, her heart hurt. Instead of running, he should have felt comfortable watching her feed the baby. He should have had that experience with Scott. He should have been in the delivery room the day their son was born.
The one thing he never should have done was leave.
After she had finished nursing, returned the baby to her crib and staggered blurry-eyed back to her own bed, it had taken her almost till dawn before she was finally able to fall into an exhausted sleep. She felt grateful it let her forget the memories. At least, until she had woken up to find them at the front and center of her mind again.
As she dressed, she left a terse message on a friend’s cell phone. She hated to call Shay O’Neill. Though they hadn’t been in many of the same classes all through school, they had gotten closer during the past year or so. Shay worked just down the street from SugarPie’s at Cowboy Creek’s ice cream parlor, the Big Dipper. After she closed up the shop, she would often stop in at SugarPie’s. On a quiet night, the two of them would spend some time chatting. Right now, Shay had enough on her mind. But Layne desperately needed some help to send Jason on his way.
In the kids’ room, she found both the bed and the crib empty. As she went down the hall toward the kitchen, she heard Scott’s voice raised in question and the deep rumble of Jason’s reply. The sound of his voice made her chest hurt.
Yesterday, her first sight of him standing in the hall had stolen her breath. He looked good, so good. Better than she ever remembered him looking, from the day he had first walked into her classroom in grade school. Even then he had been gorgeous, and with that one glance at him, her fate had been sealed.
Seeing him so unexpectedly last night had shaken her. She couldn’t deny it.
But she couldn’t do anything about any of this now except send the sights and thoughts and feelings and memories—and her oh-so-sexy-looking ex—back to the past where they all belonged.
In the kitchen, Jill lay in her carrier on the table. Scott knelt on a chair, his attention focused on one of his coloring books.
Frying bacon scented the air, and a bowl of beaten eggs sat on the counter. Jason stood at the stove. He wore a snug blue T-shirt and had tucked a red-checkered hand towel into the waist of his jeans. His dark hair waved and tumbled, free-falling in the way that had always made her breath catch to see it. After they made love, he would comb his fingers through the strands to tame them, then laugh as she rumpled them again.
He eyed her from across the room. A familiar stubble darkened his jawline. The set of that jaw told her he wasn’t completely overjoyed to see her.
He gave her a tight smile. “You’re just in time for breakfast.”
Thank goodness, her stomach didn’t roil at his words. She nodded and took her seat at the table.
Also thank goodness, having both Jill and Scott in the room would keep Jason from following the conversational path he had attempted to lead her down the night before. It was pointless for him to tell her why he was here. It was just as senseless for her to obsess about shoulds. There was nothing between them, and the sooner she saw the last of him, the better.
“I’ll have these done in just a minute.” He beat the eggs and poured them into her largest frying pan with a practiced ease that surprised her.
“When did you learn to cook?” she asked.
He laughed. “I might say the same about you if you made that soup from scratch.” He eyed her questioningly, and she nodded. “Not bad. But neither of us was too handy in the kitchen a while back, were we? I learned out of necessity since I have to take a turn in the bunkhouse. I’m still not so hot at it, so the boys let me get away with handling only breakfast. But I do a darned good omelette.” He stirred the eggs in the pan, then looked sideways at her. “How are you feeling?”
“Better. Much better.”
“You didn’t get a lot of sleep.”
“Enough. Believe me, lately, a two-hour stretch is a marathon.” She eyed Jill’s fresh jumper and noted the lumpiness of the diaper beneath it. Jason must have made an effort. Tears rose to her eyes. She blinked them away. “You changed the baby?”
“Me and Jason did,” Scott said. “De-e-e. Greenhorn at doing diapers.”
Last night, she had noticed how quickly her ex had gone from that man to Jason. This phrase was also a new one for her son—and for her. She stared at him, then glanced at Jason. “‘Greenhorn at doing diapers?’” she repeated.
“It’s a guy thing.”
“Right.” She turned back to Scott. “Oh, dear—a dirty diaper?”
“A danged dirty diaper,” Jason said.
Scott laughed till he almost toppled off the chair. She wondered if he had told Jason about their game.
“I don’t imagine you’ll be up for doing a lot yet.”
She stiffened. He couldn’t insist on staying here all day. Or could he? He’d been adamant enough last night. “I’ll be fine. I told you, I’m feeling much better. And a friend of mine is stopping by this morning.” Shay would listen to the phone message she had left and would pick up on the tension in her voice. She wouldn’t let her down.
Not the way Jason had.
He transferred the bacon to a paper-towel-lined platter. “Between being sick and having no one to watch the kids, seems like you’re going to have to miss the wedding,” he said. “Who’s getting married, anyhow?”
“Pete Brannigan.”
“You’re kidding. Thought he’d already gone down that road before we...before.”
“He did. He’s going down that road again.” Just the way she had. Unlike her, Pete had made a much better choice his second time around. “He’s Jed Garland’s ranch manager now, and he’s marrying one of Jed’s granddaughters.”
She touched Jill’s tiny fist. “Pete has two young kids of his own. He and Jane will understand that I can’t make it.” She gave a half laugh. “It’s Jed who will be upset if everyone in town doesn’t show up for the ceremony and the reception afterward. He and his family reopened the banquet room at the Hitching Post. They’ve started holding weddings there again, too. He’s so happy all three of his granddaughters are walking down the aisle right there on Garland Ranch. Well, one already has. Jane will be the second.”
“Too bad they weren’t back in the wedding business when we got married.”
She looked at him in surprise. “We couldn’t have afforded a reception there—or anywhere else, for that matter. We were lucky to have rings and enough left over for me to buy a dress.” Lucky. Or so she had thought.
She stared down at the tabletop.
At the time, she had been so in love with Jason, she would have worn ragged jeans and flashed a beer can pop-top for her wedding ring.
Despite everything, she couldn’t regret that ceremony. Her marriage had given her Scott, and she could never wish away her son or her daughter.
Still, she should have known better than to marry her high-school sweetheart. She should have waited till the heat of the moment—the heat of their relationship—had burned itself out, as it had always been bound to do.
Speaking of burning...
She caught the distinct scent of breadcrumbs beginning to char. Rising, she said, “I’d better grab the toast. That old thing’s getting temperamental.” She popped the lever of the toaster and removed the slices to a plate.
This far from the table, she could talk to Jason without Scott overhearing. “Thanks for starting breakfast,” she said in a low voice. “I’ll take over from here. I don’t want to hold you up, and I’m sure you’d much rather eat in peace and quiet at SugarPie’s.”
He frowned. “I’m willing—”
“Thanks,” she repeated firmly. “I appreciate all you’ve done, but I’m fine now. Really. A few solid hours of sleep were all I needed. And I won’t be alone. I told you, I have a friend dropping by.”
She had called Shay deliberately to give herself an out this morning. Maybe it was the coward’s way out. She couldn’t help that now.
Ordinarily, she would stand up for herself and her kids and send Jason packing. But somehow, she couldn’t seem to gather the strength to do that. Or to face another argument with him and all the memories that would surface along with it.
The flu, of course. No matter how much better she felt this morning, she wasn’t quite herself yet, and she could—and did—blame her weakness solely on the flu bug.
“So,” she continued, “you’ll be able to go on your way.”
As if on cue, the doorbell rang.
She swallowed a sigh of relief and plucked the spatula from his hand. “Since you’re so willing to help, you can do me one last favor, please. Answer the door.”
Chapter Four (#ulink_b19d4177-7d46-5b65-a067-95d11c321117)
At the Hitching Post Hotel, Jason paced from the long, waist-high reception desk, across the lobby to the wide doorway of the sitting room opposite, and back again. On his drive to the hotel, he had fought a mix of anger and irritation that had gotten stronger by the mile. Now he’d arrived, he wasn’t sure what had brought him here, except the determination not to leave town yet. Not to let Layne have the last word—again.
“That’s new flooring,” a familiar voice drawled from behind him. “It’d be a shame to wear grooves into it this soon.”
Jason turned to face the tall white-haired man now standing alongside the reception desk. He returned the familiar smile. Jed Garland had once been like a father to him.
Jason nearly staggered from the slap on his shoulder the older man gave him and found his hand engulfed in Jed’s.
“It’s been quite some time, boy. I thought maybe we’d never see you back on this ranch again. You looking for work?”
He shook his head. “No. I’m here for a place to stay.”
Jed raised his white eyebrows. “How long are you planning to stick around?”
“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “It’s complicated.”
“Life can be. All we can do is our best.”
“Yeah.” Lately it seemed he’d fallen down in that regard a long time ago. At Jed’s level stare, tension tightened his belly. Who knew what Layne had told folks about their split and his disappearance. The memory of the comment she’d slammed him with last night—about his contribution to their son’s birth—kicked up his tension a notch.
Damn, she didn’t pull any punches. She never had. The worst of it was, he deserved the hit.
“Follow me.” Jed led the way toward the doorway behind the registration desk. “We’ll take over Tina’s office and sit for a while. The girls are all getting ready to head to town to prepare for Jane’s big day tomorrow.”
As Jed closed the door behind them, Jason took a seat in the guest chair, leaving the one behind the desk for Jed. “I hear Pete and Jane are tying the knot. And that you had a hand in roping them together.”
The older man laughed. “They are, and I did. This is wedding number two, and the third one won’t be too far along the road.”
“I’ll have to track down Pete and say hello.” The two of them had once worked together as wranglers, being broken in while under Jed’s supervision.
“He’ll appreciate seeing you, I’m sure.” Jed leaned back in the swivel chair with his hands linked behind his head. “I didn’t realize you’d kept up with the goings-on in Cowboy Creek after you left town.”
“I...saw Layne. She filled me in on everything.”
“I also didn’t realize you two kept in touch.”
He didn’t fall for Jed’s apparent innocence. The man had always had his ways of finding out anything that went on in Cowboy Creek, and everyone understood if there was one thing Jed Garland was famous for, it was knowing. It wouldn’t have come as a surprise to learn Jed had already heard about his arrival in town yesterday. “We don’t keep in touch. We hadn’t even spoken to each other in years until last night.”
“Another of life’s complications, huh? You and Layne seemed to deal with more of those than most kids.”
He’d always felt comfortable talking with Jed back in those days. The man had been good at keeping confidences to himself, and Jason would risk betting that was still true. “I spent the night at her place,” he said. “She wasn’t feeling well and needed somebody to help her out.”
“That was nice of you.”
“Yeah.” So anyone would think. Except Layne. He’d done his best to care for her and the baby and their son. And what had that gotten him? A sucker punch that had nearly knocked him to his knees.
My son, she had stressed last night. She had been as quick to draw the line about that as she had in throwing her verbal right hook about his lack of involvement with Scott. Knowing she was right hadn’t made him feel any better. “It was just to help her out for the night,” he clarified. “And now, I’m looking for a room.”
“So you said. Well, we’re nearly full up with everyone here for the wedding. But we’ll fit you in...somehow. You also said Layne’s sick, though, didn’t you? Has she got the flu that’s going around?”
“Yeah. But she said she was feeling better this morning.” The minute she had claimed that, the second she’d found someone else to help her, she had tossed him out.
“From what I hear, folks don’t recover too quickly from it.” Jed’s piercing blue gaze made him want to break off eye contact, but he managed to hold the man’s gaze. “And you just went off and left her?”
“No. Shay O’Neill’s with her. I thought you could pass along the word to her brother that she could use a hand.”
Jed shook his head. “Cole won’t be around. He and the other groomsmen are off to Santa Fe with Pete, helping him get through his last day as an unmarried man.”
Jason tried to hide his grimace. “I wouldn’t think there’d be any ‘getting through’ about it. Being unmarried’s a good thing.”
“Not always. Not when you’re a single parent like Pete. Or like Layne.”
“Jed—” He clamped his jaw tight.
The other man nodded. “Good choice. There’s no sense trying to argue your way out of that one when you haven’t been around to see what’s going on. Now, you know darned well that whenever we talked in the past, I never pulled any punches with you. And I’m not about to start. I never steered you wrong, either, so I’ll tell you this flat-out straight. Cole’s not here to look in on his sister and the kids. My girls have their day planned, too. And I happen to know Shay’s joining them all for lunch at SugarPie’s.”
Jed rose from his seat. Automatically, Jason stood, too. “I’ll hold a room for you, no worries there, but if I were you, I’d seriously consider hightailing it back to Layne’s and seeing what else you can manage to help her out with. It’s the only decent thing to do.”
He nodded. He recognized Jed’s thinly veiled attempt to shame him into doing what the man wanted. An easy agreement to the suggestion might have looked like he was giving in. But so what? He’d already come to the same conclusion himself.
Even as he’d driven away in the white heat of anger, he had known he wasn’t going for long. He had to see Layne, because his plans had changed. His intention had been to get her to take the child support she had always refused to accept. But after seeing the boy—after spending time with his son—after connecting with Scott the way he had done that morning, no matter how brief the link might have been, the situation had changed. Now he wanted more.
For his son’s sake and his own, he wanted contact with his child.
* * *
“WHAT ARE YOU up to, Abuelo?”
At the sound of his youngest granddaughter’s voice, Jed Garland started. He pushed aside his coffee mug on the Hitching Post’s kitchen table and glanced at Tina. “What makes you think I’m up to anything?”
Grinning, she took a seat. “The last time you had that look on your face, you were plotting how to get Mitch and Andi together. So I’ll ask again, just what are you up to?”
He grinned back. He loved all his granddaughters equally, but Tina had grown up in this very hotel and they knew each other best—which, come to think of it, didn’t always work to his advantage. But today he definitely saw the benefits to their relationship. “While you girls were all upstairs, I had a visitor. A new hotel guest, actually, and you’ll never guess who.”
“So tell me.”
“Jason McAndry.”
Tina’s breath hitched. “You’re kidding. What is he doing home?”
“Seeing Layne, for one thing. When he stopped in, he’d just come from her apartment.”
“Have you told Cole?” Coincidentally, Cole was both Layne’s brother and Tina’s husband.
“No, I haven’t, and for now, I think that’s something we’ll need to play close to our vests. If Cole hears Jason’s back in town, it’ll ruin all my plans.”
“Plans? You mean...? You’re not thinking about Layne and Jason as a couple, are you?” She shook her head. “You’re a wonderful matchmaker, Abuelo, but there’s no chance you’ll get those two back together.”
He frowned. “You’re a fine one to say that, after the state you and Cole were in not so long ago.”
“That was different. Layne and Jason have already been married. And divorced.”
“And you think as a wonderful matchmaker, I haven’t already considered that?” He reached across the table to pat the back of her hand. “Haven’t you learned a lot yourself about the redeeming power of love?”
“Yes, I have,” she said softly, “thanks to a little help from my own private matchmaker.”
“Then trust your old grandpa, won’t you, and return the favor. I want to keep Cole from finding out for a bit. Give these kids a chance for more time on their own.”
“But you said Jason planned to stay here. He and Cole will see each other at breakfast tomorrow.”
“No, I don’t believe they will. When Jason left again this afternoon, he was headed back to Layne’s...thanks to a little nudging, I might add. He’d already spent the night with her.” Tina’s jaw dropped, and he laughed. “Not what you’re thinking, girl. I played dumb with Jason, but you and I both know Layne’s down with the flu. He kept an eye on the kids for her so she could catch up on her sleep. Now I’ve got him back there, I need to keep him there. I can’t get you involved, at least not just yet.”
“That’s true. Not if you plan to leave Cole out of the loop.”
“And I surely do. We need to get someone else to pull the strings for a bit, while we stay in the background. Someone to be our eyes and ears, at least, and keep us in the loop.”
“You mean someone to spy for us, don’t you?”
He chuckled and repeated, “I surely do. I’ve got lots of folks who can do that from a short distance. But we need someone who can get close to Layne. Who’s our best bet?”
“Well...considering Layne goes in to work at SugarPie’s every day, I would say Sugar, of course.”
“No, thank you. That woman would want to run the whole show.”
She laughed. “Like someone else I know.” She thought for a moment. “One or two of the other waitresses might do, but I think Layne’s closer to Shay O’Neill.”
“Yes.” He slapped his hand on the table. “Shay would be downright perfect. In fact, Jason said she’s over with Layne right now. Give her a call and tell her we need to speak with her.”
“I’ll be seeing her in town—”
“Even so. Let her know to be careful what she says around Layne—and the other girls—before we get a chance to sit down with her. And when you all are done with your shopping, make sure to get her out here to see us.”
“To get her on our side, you mean.”
“That’s my girl.” He grinned. “I do believe you’re catching on to this matchmaking business.”
* * *
“ARE YOU SURE you’re going to be okay on your own with the kids?”
Layne looked at Shay’s worried frown and managed to nod. “I’ll be fine.” But, despite the afghan tucked around her and the cup of tea in her hands, she shivered. Chills from the flu had combined with what she suspected was a delayed reaction to seeing Jason again.
She couldn’t have felt more relieved—or more guilty—when Shay had walked in the door and he walked out. “I shouldn’t have called you—”
“Of course, you should have. I’m your friend.”
“I know, but you’re busy with work and helping out with the wedding. And with so many other things.” Shay’s grandmother, Maureen, was getting up in age, and Shay did a lot for her. “How’s Mo?”
“Good days and bad.”
“And how are you feeling?”
“Fine.”
Shay was pregnant and due in the near future. She would talk about her pregnancy, about her excitement at becoming a mom. But Layne knew better than to mention anything about the dad. Months ago, Shay had confided his name to Layne but sworn her to secrecy. At the same time she had made it clear he wouldn’t be a part of her life.
Shay tucked a strand of her long blond hair behind her ear and glanced down at her rounded stomach. “I’m getting bigger every time I take a peek.” She eyed Layne again. “And you’re not getting away with changing the subject.”
“I wasn’t trying to. I was just pointing out that you have a lot on your mind.”
“So do you.” Shay added quietly, “It’s not every day an ex-husband shows up and spends the night.” From the purse she had set on the coffee table, her cell phone rang. “Sorry, I have to grab this. I’m on call for some extra hours at the Big Dipper, and I sure could use them... Hello?”
Layne tuned out Shay’s voice but couldn’t stop thinking of what she had just said.
It’s not every day an ex-husband shows up and spends the night.
Hearing that, Layne had had to swallow a groan. The truth was, she already had not an ex-husband but two ex-husbands to her credit. Or more like it, discredit. Either way, she certainly had no luck when it came to men.
Shay ended her call and dropped the cell phone back into her bag. “I’m sorry again, Layne. I wish I could offer to take care of the kids for the rest of the day.” She grinned. “I need all the practice I can get. But that was Tina. The bridal party’s meeting for lunch at SugarPie’s and then doing some shopping, and they had invited me along. She was letting me know they’re already here in town. I could cancel—”
“No, you couldn’t. Go and have fun. I told you, I’ll be fine.”
Shay smiled. “Maybe you can get Jason to come back. And to stay over again.”
Layne sighed. “He didn’t ‘stay over.’ At least, not in the way you probably meant when you said he’d spent the night.”
“Maybe you wish he had?”
“No.”
From her playpen a few feet away, Jill let out a surprised squawk.
Layne lowered her voice again. “I don’t want anything to do with Jason. And I wouldn’t have called you, but I just couldn’t think of any other graceful way to get him to leave.”
“Why would you want to? It’s been years since the two of you were together. People change.” She hesitated. “Well, some people. Maybe you and Jason both have. And obviously, he cares about you and the kids, or he wouldn’t have volunteered to stay here to take care of them.”
She flushed, thinking of her comment to him last night, her remark about his lack of involvement with their baby. She certainly hadn’t worried about being graceful then.
“I’m not trying to pry,” Shay said, “and I know you don’t like to talk about him. And you know just how well I relate to that. But I have to say, in school you two seemed like the perfect couple.”
“We were. When we were between arguments.”
“Really?”
She nodded. Last night, she wouldn’t have made that comment to him at all if she hadn’t already had a headful of memories of those battles.
She wanted to continue to keep conversations about him off-limits, but his reappearance in her life made that impossible. She needed to talk to someone. And she did trust Shay. “We were teenagers,” she said finally. “You know how that goes. Our relationship bounced all along the emotional spectrum. Hot-and-heavy romance at one end and cold-war fights at the other.”
“And kissing and making up in the middle?”
She laughed bitterly. “Yes. Along with one especially long stretch of peace that got us in front of a judge and put a wedding ring on my hand. But the peace treaty didn’t hold up.” She shrugged. “It was just as well. Things wouldn’t have worked out for us anyway.”
Considering they lived in a constant state of high emotions, even if they had managed to avoid their final argument, the one that led to her kicking him out, their relationship never would have lasted. She had told him she had reached her limit—he had left her at home alone just one too many times.
What she hadn’t told him was the reaction his absence always triggered inside her, the sense of abandonment she felt. She could handle that...until they had a baby on the way. If he couldn’t manage to stay home at night when it was just the two of them, how would he handle being a new daddy with a crying infant?
“Maybe the two of you ought to give things another try,” Shay said.
“No, thank you. I’m just glad I managed to get him out of my life again this morning.” As she plopped her teacup down on the coffee table for emphasis, a knock rattled the apartment door. A rhythmic quick-tap she had long ago learned to recognize as Jason’s.

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