by Lori Wilde
He’d thought himself clever. Free from the trappings that encumbered most men. Thought marriage and children were manacles and leg irons.
Oh, what a fool!
When he’d lost his mother, it had crumbled his very foundation. He’d come to distrust women. He’d seen the heartache of loving a woman in his father’s broken relationships. In what had happened to his brothers, in the loss of his own mother. Women leave. That was the lesson he’d learned. His underlying belief. Women couldn’t be trusted. He’d formed a strategy to deal with that belief. Leave them before they can leave you.
He saw now how his whole life philosophy had unconsciously been driven by the circumstances around him. How he’d formed his view of the world that was nothing more than this misguided belief. Not all women left. And unlike Ridge and Ranger’s mothers, his mom hadn’t intentionally left him behind. It wasn’t her fault, but to an eight-year-old kid, it had seemed that way.
He’d been Peter Pan. Refusing to grow up. Thinking he was holding on to something special, his youth, his freedom. In reality, he’d been clinging to a myth.
Life changed.
People got older.
By ignoring the inevitable, he’d missed out. Skimming along on the surface of life when the real reward came from diving in deep.
Funny how the kid who took the pain of being tossed from a bull with a swagger and a grin, and thought that he was better than most because of it, was the same guy who was terrified of emotional pain.
Maybe taking on physical pain was how he avoided dealing with his feelings. Perverse as that sounded, it made sense. Look, fellas, I can last eight seconds on the back of a bull.
But eight seconds in a real, honest, open relationship with a woman scared the living hell out of him.
Until Julie.
And Tara.
Now, they’d become his world, and he couldn’t imagine another second without them in it.
Tara.
The sexy earth mother. His rock. His heart. His soul.
His world.
At the thought of spending the rest of his life without her, he felt as if someone had shot a cannonball through him. Without her, he was the walking dead. No hope of becoming what he was supposed to be.
No hope at all.
He saw himself at the end of his life. A broken-down old cowboy, more likely an alcoholic than not, making his living off managing other, younger hotshots. Shuffling through women who took him for what they could get, until he finally ended up sick and alone, dying with his trophies as his only solace.
But there was another option.
He could close out his life having really made something of himself. With a loving wife and family surrounding him. Holding his hand, telling him how much he meant to them, how much they loved him.
But in order to get that life, he had to give all of himself. One hundred percent. He couldn’t keep running away when the going got tough. He had to stay and fight for what he wanted. He had to give Julie and Tara, his brothers and his father, and all the rest of his extended family, all the love he had inside him.
He had to stop giving in to his fears. Had to stop hiding. Had to face his future with courage and heart. But not with the false bravado that had shoved him onto the backs of bulls.
Climbing onto a two-ton wild bull was easy. Loving—and sticking with his loved ones through the tough times—that took real courage.
The wounds that he ignored, hid, denied, ran from—his mother’s death, his father’s neglect, Brittany rejecting him and his baby—had festered beneath the happy-go-lucky surface, bubbling into a cesspool of poison he refused to see was there.
He’d glossed over the pain with smiles and sex, flirtation and fun. Replacing his losses with the never-ending chase for fleeting fame. Believing bull riding and winning would somehow save him.
It had not.
Would not.
Could not.
Salvation lay not in running away from his sorrow, but in leaning in. That salvation fit with the bull riders’ axiom: Always pick the baddest bull. No one ever won riding a mediocre bull. No pain, no gain. He’d understood it in the arena, but he’d never applied it to the rest of his life.
And he couldn’t wait to tell Tara all this.
“Sorry,” he said to his manager as he stripped off his gloves. “I quit.”
Chapter 28
Champion: The rodeo champion is traditionally the high-money winner in an event for the given season.
Rhett raced to the Southwest Airlines ticket counter. The line was miserably long. He hadn’t even called Tara to tell her he was on the way home. He wanted to surprise her. Dammit. Maybe he shouldn’t be so impulsive. What if she was at work or busy?
Tara had rubbed off on him. Making him stop and think.
Don’t go off half-cocked.
Confused, he stepped back, letting other people go ahead of him in the security screening line. People were pouring from the exits to reclaim their luggage. He noticed a flight had just arrived from El Paso.
Something stopped him in his tracks.
He turned his head. Saw a dark-haired woman with a single thick braid dangling down her back. Wearing jeans, a white peasant blouse, and red Old Gringo boots.
Did a double take.
His heart thundered like bucking bull hooves. Tara?
Nah, it couldn’t be her. She’d told him she was going to watch the finals with his family at the mansion.
The woman flipped her braid over her shoulder in a gesture so familiar that his pulse skipped a beat.
“Tara!” he called, not caring one whit that people were staring at him. “Tara!”
The woman turned.
Chestnut brown eyes met his. A smile broke across her face, and her eyes crinkled, happy. “Rhett?”
Simultaneously, they raced toward each other. Met in the middle of the room surrounded by cranking carousels and people studying them with amused expressions. Stood breathing and staring and smiling. So much damn smiling.
“What are you doing here? How did you know I was coming in to surprise you? Did Aria call you?”
“No.” He laughed. “I was coming home to you.”
“What? And forgo the final ride?”
“That doesn’t matter. I’ve got the grand prize right here.” He drew her into his arms and kissed her.
“No, you have to ride. You’ve worked so hard. Let’s grab my luggage and go. Let’s get you back to the arena. It’s your time to shine bright, Mr. Lockhart.”
“No,” he said. “I’m walking away. I’m not taking any more chances. It’s too dangerous and I don’t want to do anything that could take me away from you and Julie.”
“Oh Rhett,” she said. “Do you really mean it?”
“With all my heart and soul.” Rhett dipped his head and kissed her right there in the Las Vegas airport. “Do you still hear the hum, Mrs. Lockhart?”
“Forever,” she said. “Always.”
“Let’s go to a hotel,” he said. “It’s been far too long since I’ve made love to you.”
They checked in to the Bellagio and raced to their room. They fell into a laughing heap on the bed. She got up and did a little striptease for him, slowly shimmying out of her clothes, revealed that she was wearing a lacy black garter belt and black silk stockings beneath her jeans.
“That garter belt is killing me,” he said. “You do know that, right?”
“Why do you think I wore it?”
“I’m the luckiest cowboy in the world.”
“Rhett.” She murmured his name low and throaty, her thick black hair falling past her shoulders. She lowered her eyelids over chestnut brown eyes, so experienced and yet at the same time so beguilingly exposed.
“Yes, Tara?”
“It’s time you made love to me now.” Slanting her head to the right, she scrutinized him, the faintest Mona Lisa smile lifting the corners of her mouth shiny with strawberry gloss.
Their gazes collided and boom! The
y were in each other’s arms again, kissing like tomorrow would not come. He cupped her cheeks between his palms, holding her dear face close while they savagely devoured each other.
“Wait,” she said. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
He paused, held his breath. “Wh-what is it?”
“I had surgery at the beginning of October.”
He felt the color drain from his face. “What kind of surgery?”
“To repair the damage from the endometriosis. I just went in for my follow-up appointment. It’s sort of why I’m here.”
“What happened?”
Her beaming smile was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. “My doctor said the surgery was a success.”
“You mean . . . ?” He scarcely dared hope.
“There’s a good chance we can have children of our own.”
“Oh, Tara,” he said, a thrill arrowing through his heart. “I’m so damn happy!”
“Me too,” she said, yanking at the hem of his shirt, popping open all the snaps in one quick pull. She ran her hot little palms over his chest and let out a delighted moan. “You have no idea how long I’ve been dreaming of doing this to you again.”
His plan, if he’d ever had one, was to take things slow, savor the moment. Play and tease and caress. That honorable notion flew straight out the window. He couldn’t wait. He’d already waited too long. Without another word, he stripped off his pants and climbed onto the mattress with her.
She wrapped her arms around his neck, rested her head on his shoulder, and sighed the dreamy sigh of a cartoon princess.
Rhett ground his pelvis against hers and she wriggled beneath him, making go-to-it-cowboy noises. Her hands had slipped around to his lower back and she raked her fingers lightly over his skin and let out a hungry little growl.
He had a tigress by the tail and loved every second of it. Her fingers were sizzling hot against his skin, and she playfully nibbled his earlobe. She tasted of summer, sultry and salty, windblown and tanned.
Then his wife straddled him and took him straight to the stars.
An hour later they lay in each other’s arms, sated and happy. Rhett called for room service, including champagne.
“What are we celebrating?” Tara asked.
“My retirement . . . and now hopes of baby making.”
“You’re not feeling a little bit sad about not riding tonight?”
“On the contrary,” he said. “I feel free as a bird. It’s time for me to step aside and make room for the younger guys.”
“I’m stunned,” she said. “I really can’t believe it.”
“It’s all because of you letting me go that I was able to let the rodeo go. It’s so damn lonely on the road. I simply don’t care about winning anymore. And if I keep climbing onto the back of a bull, eventually I’m going to get seriously hurt. It’s just not worth the risk.”
“Oh Rhett.” She stroked his cheek with her knuckle and smiled into her husband’s eyes. “I’m so happy for you!”
“I’m so happy for us.”
She kissed him long and hard and deep. This was the reunion she’d been dreaming of for the past two months.
A knock sounded on the door.
“Wow! Room service at the Bellagio is fast,” Tara said, jumping up for the luxurious bathrobes in the closet and tossing one to him as she slipped into the other.
Another knock.
“Be right there.” He shrugged into his robe, cinched it up, and padded to the door. Tara plopped back onto the bed. He opened the door without squinting through the peephole.
Rhona stood there juggling Julie in her arms. She took in Rhett in his bathrobe and Tara on the bed in hers, and her eyes widened. “Oh, I didn’t know you were here too.”
At the sight of the baby, Tara leaped off the bed and hurried to join them at the door.
Rhona looked bedraggled and worn thin. Her hair a tangled mess. Her color pale, with dark circles under her eyes. A crust of baby spit-up on the shoulder of her T-shirt. She was a far cry from the girl who’d taken Julie away. Things had been rough for her.
The baby, to Tara’s relief, looked healthy.
It startled her to realize how much Julie had grown in the weeks since Rhona had gained custody. She was holding her head up on her own, her hair a fuzzy little halo around her head. Thrilled to see the baby, Tara flung the door open wide, motioned Rhona inside. “Come in, come in.”
“Have a seat,” Rhett invited, throwing their discarded clothes off a nearby chair. He looked nervous and off-balance. He rested his hands at his waist, thumbs facing forward, fingers to his back. “Oh, you’ve got a diaper bag.” He surged forward. “Let me get that for you.”
“You always did have good manners,” Rhona said wistfully.
He set the diaper bag back down on the floor by the couch. His gaze was fixed on his daughter. Julie was staring at him with curious eyes.
Eyes that had started to shift color from navy blue to brown, Tara noticed, and her pulse quickened. She had missed so much.
Rhona sank down on the chair.
Rhett and Tara perched on the edge of the king-sized bed across from her.
“How did you know we were here?” Rhett said.
“They’re throwing a party in the presidential suite for Claudio,” Rhona said. “I was going to drop Julie off with a babysitter and go get changed when I saw you in the lobby. It took me awhile to find out what room you were in. I had to bribe a bellhop.”
Tara fiddled with the tie on her robe. Why did Rhona have Julie with her, if she’d been taking her to a babysitter so she could party?
“Claudio won?” Rhett said, not sounding the least bit jealous.
“You knew he was going to when you walked away,” Rhona said. “You were the only one who could realistically beat him.” She speared a quick glance at Tara. “Why did you walk away?”
“I don’t care about it anymore.”
“Because of her?”
“Because of her,” Rhett confirmed.
Rhona met Tara’s eyes. “You’re lucky, lady. Really lucky. Your man gave up the circuit for you.”
Tara let that slide. “How’s Julie? How are you?”
“It’s so much work.” Rhona sniffled. “An impossible amount of work.”
“Can I hold her?” Tara asked.
Looking utterly relieved, Rhona got up and put Julie in her arms.
Tara smiled down at the baby. Julie’s eyes widened and a smile wreathed her sweet little face, and Tara’s heart melted. The baby smelled so good, sweet and innocent. God, how she’d missed this scent. She kissed the top of her head.
“Rhona,” Rhett said, his voice kind. “Why are you here?”
“You got visitation rights. I thought you might want to see her.”
“What are you doing in Vegas? It’s no place for an infant.”
“We’ve joined Claudio on the circuit.”
Tara snapped her mouth closed to keep from saying something judgmental.
“I . . . I want you to take her. It’s too much for me. I thought I could handle it, but I can’t. You’re a much better mom than I’ll ever be.” Rhona’s gaze burned into Tara’s.
“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Tara soothed. “Motherhood isn’t easy, but it’ll get better, you’ll get into the groove.”
“Julie doesn’t even feel like mine, you know? Since I wasn’t there for her in the beginning. I don’t even like her name.” Rhona scratched her ear, stared off into space.
“If you felt like this, why did you file for custody in the first place?” Rhett asked. “You put us through hell, Rhona.”
“I dunno.” She rounded her shoulders. “I got to feeling guilty about running off and leaving her. I do love her and I want to be her mom, but it’s complicated.”
Tara held Julie close, fearful that Rhona was engaging in risky behaviors. “What do you mean?”
“Claudio’s jealous of her, especially now that I’m pregnant wi
th his baby.” She touched her belly. “I mean, I still want to see her, but I think it would be better if she could live with you, and I have visitation rights instead. What do you say? Do you want her?”
“Yes!” Rhett and Tara cried in unison.
Rhona looked utterly relieved. She pressed her palms together in front of her chest, bowed her head. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”
“You’re sure about this?” Tara said.
“Yes.” Rhona bobbed her head. “Can you take her right now?”
“So you can get to your party?” Rhett asked.
Rhona looked shamefaced, but nodded.
“It’s all right,” Tara said. “We’ll happily take her right now. Don’t worry. We’ll take care of everything.”
With a nervous smile, Rhona shook their hands and darted out the door.
Leaving Rhett and Tara staring at each other in wide-eyed wonder.
“We got our girl back,” Rhett whispered, gazing down at his daughter.
Tara looked at her husband with tears in her eyes. “We’re a family again.”
He kissed her then, as she held the baby. A light, gentle kiss of love that sent her head humming in the most magnificent way.
“All rise.”
It was December 9, the hearing for permanent placement of Julie Elizabeth Lockhart.
The people amassed in the courtroom stood up. The place packed with Lockharts and Alzates. Ridge and Kaia, Aria and Remington, home on leave for Christmas, Armand and Bridgette, Duke and Vivi, Archer and Casey, Granny Blue, Lamar, Ms. Bean, and most of the Silver Feather employees. Even Ember and Ranger had flown in from Canada with their new baby daughter to be there.
Judge Brando entered the room.
“Be seated,” the bailiff called out.
In a rustle, the congregation sat.
The judge took her chair. Put on reading glasses, examined the paperwork in front of her. Peered out over the rims of her glasses, stared first at Rhett and then Tara. Took a sip of water. Said nothing.
Leaving everyone in the courtroom holding their collective breaths.