Their Child? Page 13

  “But do you think that you could—?”

  “Enid.” Heck scooted his chair closer to his wife and threw an arm across her slim shoulders. “It’s Lori’s life. We gotta learn to step back and let her live it.”

  “I know. It’s only—”

  He pulled her closer and chucked her under the chin. “Let it be, now.”

  Enid wrinkled up her nose at him—and conceded, “Oh, all right.”

  Lori got up, went around the table and planted a kiss on her father’s beard-rough cheek. “I love you, Daddy—Mama, you, too…”

  Heck beamed up at her. “Now, that there’s exactly what we like to hear.”

  Lori told Brody the plan the next morning at the breakfast table.

  “All summer?” Brody frowned and scooped up another spoonful of Cheerios. They were alone in the Billingsworth kitchen. Heck had headed for his dealership and Enid was grocery shopping.

  Lori set down her coffee cup and smiled her brightest smile. “Until the end of August. Two whole months, almost, at the Double T. You can ride that pony every day, and swim. And eat lots of barbecue. And then there’s Fargo. Tucker and I know how you feel about Fargo…”

  Brody chewed and swallowed. “But I told Dustin and Adam that we’d be home next week.” The two boys, Brody’s best friends, lived down the street from them in San Antonio.

  “You can call your friends and tell them you’re staying here for the summer, after all, but that you’ll be back as soon as school starts.”

  Brody wasn’t going for it. “Mom. We were gonna build a tree fort in Dustin’s backyard. I bet they’ve already started on it. And I’d miss soccer camp—and what about soccer practice? That starts at the beginning of August. And what about Disneyland? You said we could probably go to Disneyland, in July…”

  Somehow, she hadn’t expected all these objections. She saw now that she should have come at this a little better prepared.

  She thought of Tucker’s angry eyes, thought of what he’d have to say to her if she blew this, if she had to lay down the law and drag her son out to the ranch, sulking and surly the whole way. Since Tucker didn’t trust her, he’d assume that somehow she’d poisoned Brody against the idea of a summer at the Double T. Good gravy, life got difficult when the father of your son had you branded as a liar.

  And wait a minute…

  She shouldn’t be so negative. She should remember that her son was a reasonable kid and they could work this out between them. She reminded him, “I thought you liked it at Tucker’s.”

  “I do. I like it a lot. And I’ve been a little sad, to think I won’t see Fargo anymore.” He blinked and added hastily, “And Tucker, too. I really like Tucker—but a tree house, Mom. And Disneyland.”

  Shamelessly, she bargained, “You could build a tree house out at the ranch. And have the new friends you’ve made here at Gramma’s out to visit whenever you wanted. I know they have soccer camp around here somewhere, too. We can arrange for you to go to that. And I don’t see why we can’t still go to Disneyland—” with Tucker, she reminded herself “—and Tucker might even want to go, too.”

  More chomping of Cheerios. Then, “I’d still miss the beginning of soccer practice, though…”

  He sounded less resistant. Didn’t he? She sipped from her coffee and answered him frankly, “Yes. I’m afraid you would miss a practice or two.” She sipped some more, giving him time to think it over a little.

  He slanted her a glance, looking so much like his father that he took her breath away. “Maybe I could invite Dustin and Adam to come visit me out at the Double T.”

  She gave him a slow smile. “You know. I’ll bet that could be arranged. We’d have to talk it over with Tucker, though.”

  “Oh. Yeah. I mean, it is his house.”

  “Exactly.”

  Another bite of Cheerios. And then another. And finally, “Okay, Mom. Let’s do it.”

  Relief poured through her. “Great.”

  He pointed his spoon at her. “Don’t even think about it.”

  She sat back, widened her eyes. “What?”

  “Rubbing my head and telling me you love me.”

  Busted. “But I do love you. I love you so much.”

  “I love you, too, but don’t get all gooey, ‘kay?”

  “‘Kay.”

  “And Mom?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Is Tucker, like, your boyfriend or something?”

  She almost choked on her coffee. “Why do you ask?”

  “Your face is red—well, except for the part that’s all black and blue.”

  “You better watch it. I might just have to ruffle your hair, after all.”

  “That means you’re not going to answer me, right?”

  She drank more coffee.

  He grunted. “You’re not. And that prob’ly means he is your boyfriend. Right?” As she tried to compose an acceptable reply, one that would be honest and yet still not reveal the central truth that was Tucker’s to tell him, he barreled right on, “Mom. It’s okay if you have a boyfriend. I loved Dad and you loved Dad. A lot. But now Dad’s in heaven and you’re a widow and widows are allowed to have boyfriends. Especially the kind of boyfriend that gets along with their kids.”

  “You mean…a boyfriend like Tucker?”

  Brody nodded. “And you know what? I think I need another bowl of Cheerios.”

  Lori set down the bottle of bug repellent after giving herself several protective squirts. Then she pulled another chair over, put her bare feet up on it and leaned back. She looked up at the stars and sighed.

  It was nice, out by the pool. A slight breeze cooled her cheeks and a chorus of crickets trilled out their endless song and she could hear the water, softly lapping against the sides of the pool. Lightning bugs winked on and off across the lawn, tiny living lanterns in the darkness.

  “So we’re going to Disneyland next month.” His voice came from behind her. It wasn’t the warm, seductive voice she remembered from that other night, when they sat out here together and watched Brody and Fargo rolling around on the grass.

  But it wasn’t dangerous and hateful, either.

  At least not too dangerous…

  She decided to consider his tone a step in the right direction and sent a backward glance at his tall, broad-shouldered form. He stood at the edge of the brick path that led over from the South Wing.

  “Have a seat,” she suggested and lifted a hand toward the chair beside her.

  Then she leaned back and shut her eyes to let him know that it wasn’t a big thing to her, either way. He could stay, or he could turn and head back the way he had come. She’d be perfectly content, alone in the darkness with the cricket songs and the gold flashes of the lightning bugs.

  Then again…

  There was that tiny flicker, the thing called hope, bravely rising within her. Her heart was beating too fast and her breath had snagged in her throat—at the sound of his voice, at the sight of him standing there.

  So maybe it was a big thing to her. She did want him to stay.

  But he couldn’t know that. And she was glad he couldn’t. Though she’d sworn never to let another lie pass her lips, her response to him fell into that gray category labeled, If he doesn’t ask, I’m certainly not going to tell.

  She sensed rather than heard his approach. The chair beside her gently scraped the tiles. He dropped down next to her, close enough that she got a faint hint of his aftershave. His tanned bare arm—he wore chinos and a cream-colored polo shirt—brushed hers. She felt his warmth.

  Acutely.

  She lifted her head and looked at him. He seemed to be studying her bare feet. Slowly, his gaze tracked upward, over her legs and her light summer skirt, over her belly and her breasts, in a slow once-over that undressed her as it went.

  He met her eyes. “Except for the black eye and the bandage, you’re looking pretty healthy.” The remark was heavy with innuendo.

  She decided to ignore the innuendo—and go s
trictly with the words themselves. “Yes, I’m feeling pretty good, thank you. And you’re right. We’re going to Disneyland in late July. Or Brody is, with one or the other of us.”

  “Yeah. That’s what Brody said.” He looked at her steadily. Kind of hungrily, really—or maybe that was just a trick of the shadows, an illusion created by the waving light cast upward from the depths of the pool. Yes. A trick of the shadows…and her own yearning heart.

  She found her mouth felt a little bit dry. She swallowed. “I had to do some convincing, to get him to come and stay here.” She watched his brows draw together and rushed to explain herself. “Not that he didn’t want to come. He did. But he had a lot of other plans, stuff lined up that he was looking forward to.”

  Tucker nodded. “Soccer camp. A tree house. Friends in San Antonio—and Disneyland. Or did I already mention that one?”

  “You did. And I’m guessing he’s laid it all out for you?”

  “Pretty much. I got the idea he wanted me on the right page about his agenda, since he would be staying here.”

  “He’s a smart guy.”

  “That he is.”

  “And are you—on the right page?”

  “Yeah. I’d say I am.”

  “Well, good.” She leaned her head back again. “I’ll have to look into changing the plane reservations to California. And maybe you could see about ordering the boards and nails for the tree house.”

  “No problem. I’m thinking we’ve got what we need for the tree house already in one of the outbuildings by the stables.”

  “Great. I’ll see if I can get the scoop on the local soccer camp, too.”

  He said, “I let Fargo sleep in his room.”

  She shut her eyes. “I can tell by your voice. That dog’s in Brody’s bed.”

  “I should have said no, then?”

  She sighed. “A boy and a dog. What can you do?”

  “That was pretty much how I saw it.”

  A pause. The chorus of cricket-song swelled all the louder. Somewhere in the trees, a bird trilled out, high and sweet. The song trembled on the air and then ended, the last note impossibly high, plaintive and lonely-sounding.

  She could feel him watching her. His silence had a taut, breath-held quality. She dared to turn her head and look at him.

  His dark eyes gleamed. He almost smiled—but no. He caught himself. He braced his hands on the chair arms. “Well. Good night, then.” He rose and loomed above her.

  “Good night,” she said.

  He turned for the brick path. She shut her eyes so she wouldn’t have to see him go.

  Saturday, Tucker and Brody started building the tree house in one of the oaks that rimmed the back lawn. Lori left them to it. She went into town and had lunch with her mother, who was sweet and affectionate—and wanted to know how things were going out at the ranch. Lori told her that Brody was having a great time.

  And Enid asked the thousand-dollar question. “Does my grandson know, then, that Tucker’s his dad?” Lori sighed and shook her head. “Honey, he has a right to know.”

  “I agree, but…” She blew out a breath and let the sentence finish itself.

  Enid didn’t look happy. “That boy needs to know.”

  “Mama. I’m aware of that.”

  “You’d better have a talk with Tucker, don’t you think? We can’t all just dance around the truth forever. It’s not good. You, of all people, ought to know that by now.”

  When Lori returned to the Double T, Molly was just getting back from her Saturday shift at her salon, Prime Cut.

  Tate’s wife jumped from her red pickup and asked, “How are things workin’ out?” Lori didn’t quite know how to answer, since she hadn’t a clue how much Tucker’s sister-in-law knew. Molly gave her an understanding smile and helped her out a little. “I know that Brody is Tucker’s son. Tucker told Tate—and Tate tells me everything. But you don’t have to worry. Tate and I know how to keep our mouths shut.”

  Lori sighed. She’d been doing a lot of sighing lately. “Tucker doesn’t want to tell Brody yet, so I guess we do need to keep a lid on it for now. It wouldn’t be so great if Brody found out who his father is from some kid whose parents said too much in front of him.”

  Molly said pretty much what Lori’s mother had said. “Brody seems like a levelheaded guy. Why not just tell him now?”

  And Lori had to give her the same answer she’d given Enid. “It’s Tucker’s choice.”

  Molly wasn’t buying that. “Well, it’s the wrong choice if you ask me.” Then she let out a low, infectious laugh. “Not that anybody did ask me.” She leaned close to Lori and Lori got a whiff of her sexy perfume. “Listen. You need to talk, I’m here. Okay?”

  “Thanks.”

  “And don’t let Tucker push you around. Take it from one who knows. When it comes to these Bravo men, a woman has to stand tall and stand her ground.”

  Stand tall and stand her ground.

  Lori kept waiting for the opportunity to do that. But Tucker gave her none. After that first night, when he joined her for those few too-brief minutes by the pool, he’d kept his distance when Brody wasn’t around.

  The days went by. Brody’s friends came Monday, from San Antonio, for a five-day visit. They rode horses and swam in the pool and spent hours in the tree fort Brody and Tucker had built. Thursday night, they had three local boys over, too. They cooked hot dogs on sticks over an open fire and Tucker pitched a tent on the lawn, so the boys could camp out.

  The local boys went home the next day at noon. At five, Dustin’s mother came to take her son and Adam back to San Antonio. She had family in the Hill Country, so she and the boys would stay there over the weekend, to break up the long ride.

  “I wish they didn’t have to go,” Brody said, as he and Lori stood in the driveway, waving goodbye, Fargo beside them. Brody added with a big smile, “But I sure did have a good time…” He ducked before she could ruffle his hair. And then he looked at her, suddenly solemn. “Mom. You okay?”

  She started to tell him she was fine. And a voice in her head chided, Remember. No lies. “I’m okay,” she said. It was true. Not great. Not particularly happy.

  But okay. Getting by.

  “You seem kinda sad…”

  “Maybe a little.”

  “Because of Tucker?”

  “What makes you think that?”

  “I don’t know…” His voice trailed off and she let that one go without a response. Then he asked, “Maybe you want to go home?”

  She thought about that, about how much easier it would be, home in San Antonio, in her own house, living the good life she’d made for herself there, without Tucker around all the time—close, but so far away—reminding her constantly of all the ways she’d messed up. She confessed, “I guess I’m a little bit homesick. How about you?”

  He frowned, thinking deeply. “Nope. I guess not. I kind of like it here.”

  “Then let’s stay.”

  He gave her a grin. “Okay.”

  They turned for the house, Fargo right behind them.

  Inside, Brody headed for the game room in the basement at the back of the house to play video games on the big-screen TV in there. Lori climbed the stairs to the bright, comfortable room Tucker had assigned her. She set to work at the little desk by the window, paying the bills she’d had forwarded from San Antonio, thinking as she wrote the checks that she was going to have to face Tucker down somehow, find a way to make him see that it was time to tell Brody who his real father was.

  Tucker came home from the office and paused just inside the front door. The house was so quiet. He knew a moment of stark, echoing emptiness. The thought came to him: Lori and Brody were gone.

  Impossible. She wouldn’t dare…

  And then Mrs. Haldana, who ran his wing of the house for him now, appeared from the dining room. “Ah. Mr. Bravo.” She gave him her cool, professional smile.

  He demanded much too gruffly, “Brody and his mother. Where are they?�
��

  If his harsh tone disturbed the housekeeper, she didn’t let on. “The boy is in the game room. Mrs. Taylor has gone upstairs.”

  He felt relief then, a warmth—and a kind of weakness—stealing all through him. “Thank you.”

  She nodded and went back the way she had come. He headed for the stairs in the utility room beyond the breakfast area, moving fast, needing, absurdly, to see for himself.

  He found Brody right where the housekeeper had said he would. The kid sat cross-legged in front of the television playing some space-monster game. On the giant screen, a leering green creature exploded.

  “Pow! Gotcha!” Fargo, stretched out at Brody’s side, perked up his ears. The mutt turned his ugly head, thumped his tail on the carpet and whined in greeting. Brody slid Tucker a glance and kept on thumbing the controls. “Hey, Tucker—wanna play?”

  Fargo got up and came over. Tucker scratched him behind the ears. “Later, maybe.”

  “‘Kay…”

  “Your mother upstairs?” As if he didn’t already know.

  “Guess so…”

  Fargo flopped back down at Brody’s side and Tucker turned for the stairs to the main floor. He walked fast, up the basement stairs and through the utility room. But once he got to the foot of the main staircase that would take him to the second floor, he slowed down. He went quietly, aware of each footfall, not wanting her to hear his approach and refusing to consider why that might be.

  The door of her room was open, so he stopped there, in the doorway. He stood very still and he watched her, heat and hunger curling low inside him.

  He knew she wanted him, too. She’d told him so, flat out, that evening a week and a day ago now, when he’d finally confronted her with all of her lies, when he’d gotten her agreement to come here, to stay with him while he got to know the son she’d kept from him.

  Yeah, he’d been avoiding her.

  But as he stood in the doorway and watched her, he wondered why. What was the point? True, what she’d done was unforgivable.

  He couldn’t trust her.

  But damn. He still had a powerful yen for her. They were living in the same house, for as long as he wanted it that way. Why should he spend his nights alone, longing for the feel of her, the warmth and softness and sweet, sweet scent of her? Why should he only imagine what it might be like, to reach for her, to feel her melt in his arms, to taste her—all of her?