by Helen Lacey
“I’m not sure the stroller will get through the slush on the ground. But I can carry her,” he suggested.
“I think I’ll grab a thermos and a few snacks,” she said, smiling. “We may as well make an afternoon of it. You get her diaper bag and rig her up and I’ll meet you back here in fifteen minutes.”
Three hours later they were still out hiking. Cara was fast asleep against Tyler’s shoulder as they walked the fence line before heading down toward the river. The spruce trees were covered in a blanket of snow and Brooke pointed out some of the birds unique to the area.
He came to a halt and looked out over the river. “It’s a beautiful spot, Brooke. I can see why you want to fight so fiercely to protect it.”
She sucked in a long gulp of crisp air. “I couldn’t imagine living anywhere else. Even when I was on the road, going from competition to competition, living in the back of a horse trailer or spending the night in a crappy motel, I always felt that no matter where I went, home was always here, waiting for me to return.”
“Until tragedy forced you back permanently.”
Heat clung to her throat. She knew he could feel how important the land was to her, and how much it cost her emotionally when she lost her parents and Brooke wasn’t about to deny it.
“I miss them every day,” she admitted. “And I miss Matt, too. I miss my goofy little brother who always made me laugh. He’s a good person, Tyler. Sure, he was a bit wayward when he was a teenager and did a few foolish things. But who hasn’t been foolish once or twice in their life? I know I have.”
“Really?” he queried, looking at her as he gently held Cara’s head. “I can’t imagine you doing anything foolish. You seem too sensible for that.”
Brooke smiled. “I’m not always sensible. Proud and unbendable, remember?”
“You’re just protecting what’s yours the best way you can,” he said quietly. “It’s not so hard to understand.”
Her eyes burned. “Would you stop that?”
“Stop what?”
“Being so...nice.”
He grinned. “But I’m a nice guy.”
“I know,” she said and walked a few steps through the melting snow. “That’s what terrifies me.”
He caught up in a few strides. “I told you that first night that I’m not a threat to you. I mean it. I know it might seem that way, considering I might have to leave with Cara. But it’s not...personal, you know. It’s not about you. It’s this situation, that’s all. Honestly, I think you’re incredible. And strong. And resilient. And...quite beautiful.”
Her entire body stilled. It was easily the sweetest thing anyone had ever said to her. “You see, you are nice. And I’m...vulnerable to that, as it turns out.”
She walked off again, breathless from the cold air and the feelings running riot through her system. Brooke pulled the beanie further down over her ears and kept walking, mindful that he was only a few steps behind her. Even though he carried Cara, the diaper bag and the small knapsack she’d filled with a coffee thermos and a few snacks, he could easily keep up with her. But he let her have her space. He seemed to know what she needed. And it made Brooke fall for him even more.
By the time they got back to the ranch she was exhausted. But she had animals to attend to and used that as an excuse to be alone for a while. She stayed outside until half past five o’clock and when she entered the house through the mudroom, she could smell dinner cooking and realized Cara was already fed and bathed and in her crib.
“She was beat,” he said when she glanced at the empty high chair. “I think we wore her out.”
“She’s not the only one,” Brooke remarked and pulled off her beanie and scarf. “I’m going to take a shower. Be back soon.” She got to the door and turned. “That smells great, by the way. You really are good at everything.”
It wasn’t meant to sound sarcastic. It was simply a statement of fact. She’d bet her boots whatever he touched turned out well. Brooke left the room swiftly and headed for the shower. The warm water eased the tension clutching the back of her neck and when she was done she dried herself off and then dressed in a long denim skirt, red blouse and a pair of low-heeled boots. She brushed her hair and stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror.
What did Tyler see, she wondered, when he looked at her? Did he see freckles and a chin that was a little too square to be considered truly feminine? Did he see a mouth that was wider than what was fashionable? Or a nose that was cute at best and hair that had a will of its own when left out? Put together she figured she didn’t look too bad...not girl-next-door pretty like Lucy or movie-star beautiful like Kayla. Attractive...passable. A face that wouldn’t exactly stand out in a crowd. But one that looked earnest and honest and real.
With a sigh, she fluffed her hair with her fingertips and headed back to the kitchen.
Dinner was delicious and the conversation flowed. By the time the dishes were being done she realized again how easy Tyler was to be around. Almost a week into their acquaintance and her estimation of him had altered dramatically. Sure, he had an arrogant streak and liked to give his opinion freely. But he was also kind and thoughtful and possessed a kind of inner strength she almost envied. He would be a good role model for Matt, she thought, if her brother ever bothered to call or show up. In a few days Tyler would be leaving and he would take Cara with him. If Matt didn’t make contact soon, she might lose her niece forever.
“Everything okay?” he asked, almost as if he’d sensed the shift in her mood.
They were in the living room, sitting in opposite chairs, a mile away from one another, drinking soda. And yet, Brooke felt his nearness like it were a blanket, warm and protective and exactly what she craved.
“Sure,” she said and faked a smile. “Just feeling a touch melancholy.”
“It’s that time of year,” he said, watching her over the rim of his glass. “You know, we can get a tree tomorrow if you want. I saw a place in town this morning that was selling them. Cara would probably like it.”
Brooke’s brows rose slowly. “Cara? Or you?”
He shrugged a little. “I’m feeling less like a Grinch this year.”
She grinned. “I’m glad to hear it. Especially since we’ve agreed to spend Christmas afternoon at my aunt’s—and she is really into the whole festive thing.”
“Do I need to buy gifts?”
Brooke shook her head. “No. We only buy for the kids now and I’ve got that covered. It’s really a day to eat to excess and lounge around Grady’s ranch house and watch football.” She smiled and met his gaze. “You like football, right?”
“I’m from New York,” he said, as though that was enough, and then grinned. “And I have season tickets to the Giants.”
Brooke laughed. “Then I’m sure you will fit right in.”
“Did your ex-fiancé fit right in?” he asked unexpectedly.
He wanted to know about Doyle? Brooke frowned a little. “Um... I guess. He was a cowboy. Friendly, charming...you know the type.”
“The type that leaves his fiancée for another woman.”
Brooke’s chin came up. “He left me to be with his son. Once I got past the hurt, I understood. He wanted to be with his child. That’s a strong bond to ignore.”
“For some. For others, not so much.”
Brooke heard the tinge of resentment in his voice and pressed a little more. “Like your birth parents?”
He shrugged. “I have to believe that they did what they thought was right at the time. And I’m grateful for the parents that I do have,” he said and met the query in her gaze. “Despite how it might seem.”
She drew in a steadying breath. “It must have hurt them...what you did. Running away and filing for emancipation. Do you regret it?”
“Yes,” he replied flatly. “In part.
But, you know that old expression about not being able to put an old head on young shoulders...at the time I felt as though it was my only option. Otherwise they would have dragged me back to Nebraska.”
“And yet, here you are,” she said softly. “Just over the border.”
Tyler got to his feet abruptly and moved around the room, coming to stop at the fireplace. He touched one of the framed photographs. “If you’re trying to make me feel bad about the way I have treated my parents in the past, then you’re succeeding.”
Guilt pressed down on her rib cage. “That wasn’t my intention.” Brooke got up and moved around the sofa to stand beside him. “I’m sorry.”
He turned to face her, one hand resting on the mantel. “You’re right, though,” he said softly. “I did hurt my parents. My mom...” He stopped, his words trailing, as though they were some of the hardest he’d ever said. “My mom blamed herself and my father begged me not to go. I’d left a note and promised to call when I got to the city. When I got to New York I ended up at a youth shelter and that’s how I met Ralph Jürgens. He worked out pretty quick that I was a runaway and made me call my parents. My mom was so upset she couldn’t talk. And my father...he...was crying. Sobbing, really. I still remember how that made me feel...guilty and angry at the same time. Sure, they’d always been a little alternative, even before they moved in with the tree huggers. Dad drove this old jalopy that ran on biofuel and recycled everything. But he’d always been strong...solid.”
“And you didn’t go back?”
He shook his head. “I couldn’t. I was young and arrogant and resentful of the life they’d chosen. Before I left...” Tyler looked away and swallowed. “I told them I wished they’d never adopted me.”
Brooke felt his pain in his words right through to her bones and she reached out, grasping his biceps. “They must know you didn’t mean it.”
He nodded fractionally. “But I meant it at the time.”
“You were young and overwhelmed by a lot of mixed emotions. And I can’t imagine they’d be anything other than very proud of the man you have become. And they are part of that,” she said, feeling the muscles beneath her palm clench. “They raised you, nurtured you, instilled the moral compass and integrity you possess by the bucket load...how could they be anything but proud?”
He looked down to where her hand lay and covered her hand with his own, linking their fingers in a way that was impossibly intimate. Palm to palm, Brooke felt the connection through her entire body. She met his eyes, saw his gaze move over her face and then focus on her mouth. Her lips parted instinctively and she sucked in a shallow breath. This energy had been building between them for days, brewing like an electrical storm. And Brooke wanted his kiss more than she had ever wanted anything or anyone in her life.
* * *
Tyler had enough experience with women to know that he was about to step into another reality with Brooke. Talking with her had unlocked something inside him...old feelings...old regrets...and made him admit things he’d never said to anyone else, ever. Talking about his personal life had always been off-limits. Not even his closest friends back in New York knew much about his upbringing and his parents. But Brooke had the ability to draw it out of him without effort. She listened. She understood.
And he wanted her.
He wanted to feel her against him, breast to chest, hip to hip, thigh to thigh.
Reaching around, he cupped the back of her neck, tilting her head back slightly. Her lips were apart, inviting him, and he bent his head and touched them with his own. Sensation rocked through him, climbing over his skin and through his blood. Her mouth opened beneath his and her free hand moved around his waist. She was close, pressing against him, and he leaned in closer still. Finesse and resistance flew out the window as Tyler deepened the kiss, finding her tongue and rolling it around his own. She tasted so good, like raspberry soda and peppermints. And she was soft and luscious and her curves fit against him as though they were two halves of the same whole.
The kiss went on, deeper, harder, then softer, asking not taking. She didn’t pull back. She kept pace with him each time he angled her head, each time he pressed closer, each time he moved his tongue against hers in an erotic slide that fueled his libido like a drug.
Finally, Tyler pulled back, breaking the kiss, staring into her upturned face.
She was all indigo eyes, all raspy breath. Her chest rose up and down, emphasizing her full breasts, and his palms itched to touch her there, to peel off her clothes and lay her bare so he could worship her breasts with his hands and mouth. And more. So he could make love to every inch of her, discovering what she liked, what would make her quiver, what would make her say his name on a sigh as she came apart in his arms.
“I want you,” he said, breathless, keeping her close, trailing his mouth down her cheek to her jaw and then the sensitive skin below her ear. He pulled back again and met her gaze. “So much.”
“I want you, too.”
Tyler’s insides constricted. “Let me make love to you tonight.”
Her eyes darkened in a kind of sexy haze. “Yes,” she whispered.
He grabbed her hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “You’re sure?”
“Positive,” she said and smiled.
Tyler took a step, planning on taking Brooke with him up the hall and into his bedroom. Except a sound distracted him. The baby monitor. Cara. And she was crying.
Brooke untangled their fingers. “That doesn’t sound good.”
“No,” he agreed. “It doesn’t.”
Within seconds they were both out of the room and striding up the hall. Once they reached Cara’s room, Tyler turned up the night-light. Cara was sitting in her crib, clearly distressed, rubbing her eyes with small fists as she wailed. Brooke was by the crib before him and hauled the baby into her arms.
“She might need changing,” she said and headed for the change table.
One diaper change later and Cara was still inconsolable. Tyler checked for a temperature but she wasn’t overly warm. He used the infant thermometer to ensure she wasn’t running a fever.
“Temperature is normal,” he said and waited while Brooke put her into a fresh pair of pajamas. “Tummy troubles maybe. Or teething.”
Brooke nodded and seemed to be working with some kind of built-in maternal instinct as she held Cara to her chest and patted the baby’s back soothingly. Cara settled a little, only to start crying again when Brooke tried to put her back in the crib.
Tyler headed for the kitchen and fixed a bottle with a small amount of tepid water and when he returned to the bedroom, he found Brooke sitting on a chair in the corner, rocking the baby as she sung softly. She had a nice voice, he thought. Soft and mellow and for a while it helped Cara settle down. But it was a rough few hours that followed. Cara was upset, crying in between jabbering, and clearly not happy with the world. They took turns holding her and trying to get her back to sleep. By one o’clock, Cara finally fell asleep on his chest. The chair wasn’t all that comfortable, but he stayed where he was until he was certain she wasn’t going to wake up. Brooke stayed by the crib for a while, rubbing Cara’s head gently when she stirred.
It was close to two before they finally turned down the night-light and moved from the room. Brooke rested her back against the wall and let out a long breath.
“Poor little thing,” she said wearily. “I’m sure it’s teething. I’ll call my friend Lucy in the morning. She’s a doctor and will know what to do. The soothing gel seemed to help a little.”
He nodded. “We should try and get some sleep. I’ll keep the monitor in my room.”
His room. Her room. A few hours ago they were about to make love. That plan had certainly been aborted once Cara needed their attention. It was probably for the best. They hardly knew one another. Becoming friends was hard enough. Being
Brooke’s lover would change everything.
“Tyler, I—”
“It’s better this way,” he said quietly. “In the long run. Better that we don’t do something foolish. Not that being with you would be anything other than incredible. But sex always—”
“Complicates things,” she said, finishing his sentence. “Yes, I know. Okay,” she said and pushed herself off the wall. “I’m going to bed. Alone...because that’s the sensible thing to do, and I am nothing if not a sensible woman. But wake me if she stirs again. I don’t mind doing my share.”
Tyler nodded vaguely and headed to his room. Alone. And strangely, lonelier than he could ever remember being in his life.
Cara woke up again around five and once he got to her crib Brooke was a few seconds behind him. She wore knitted cotton pajamas with ducks on them and even in his bleary-eyed state he was achingly aware of her curves. They gave the baby a drink, a diaper change and applied some gel to her gums, and that seemed enough to get her back to sleep.
“Coffee?” Brooke suggested once the baby was back in the crib.
“Sure. I don’t think I could sleep now anyhow.”
“Me, either.” She padded down the hall on her socked feet and returned to her room for a second, coming out with a robe in her hands. She shouldered into the garment and belted it around her waist. “Aren’t you cold?” she asked, sliding her gaze over him, taking in the navy sweatpants and white tank shirt.
He wasn’t. The way her eyes raked over him was enough to keep his blood at ten thousand degrees. But he took her point and grabbed a sweater before he headed for the kitchen. Once they were settled on opposite sides of the kitchen table she let out a weary sigh.
“You know, I’ve done my fair share of babysitting Grady’s kids over the years, but tonight was different. It was like...like...”
“Like being a parent?” he finished for her, understanding what she meant. “You mean the worry and the sense of helplessness? Yeah... I know what you mean.”