by Laura Drake
* * *
Lorelei
I knew the St. Jameses had money, of course, but I pictured country-club rich. I underestimated by a personal jet, legacy opera seats, and several polo ponies. He leads me up the buff-colored stone risers, through the leaded glass doors, and into a front hall with marble floors and several arched doorways opening off to the left. There’s an honest-to-god Titanic-style staircase on the right that could accommodate five grown men walking shoulder to shoulder. The newel post is topped with a carved lion’s head, caught midroar.
“Come on, the kitchen is back here. I’ll get you two something to eat, and we’ll relax.”
Like I’m going to relax anywhere inside this house. My crutches creak loudly in the empty space. We pass a golden stand with a ceramic vase on it full of fresh white lilies—real live flowers, not plastic. I’m going to have to watch Sawyer. She crawls at the speed of light and is curious about everything; she could easily break something irreplaceable.
The kitchen is at the end of the hallway. It’s more utilitarian, but no less imposing, with stainless fixtures and a Sub-Zero fridge. Nevada would give all her snarky T-shirts for this kitchen.
“Oh good, the housekeeper bought the baby stuff I requested.” He slides Sawyer into a shiny new high chair that looks like something from Star Wars. He scoots her up to the huge marble island with a grill in the middle, spotless copper pots hanging above.
He rubs his hands together and looks to me. “What would you like?”
I shrug. “What do you have?”
“Not sure. Why don’t you have a seat and let’s check it out.”
He steps to the fridge, which isn’t a walk-in, but when he opens the doors, it’s a near thing. It’s packed with fresh ingredients. “As long as you don’t want fancy, we’re good.”
“Sawyer and I have about the same taste, and fancy isn’t it. Huh, baby?” I chuck her under the chin. She looks as dazzled as I feel. “How about eggs?”
“That I can do.” He pulls out a carton of eggs and sets it on the counter. “How about scrambled for Peanut and omelets for us?”
“Sounds good. I’ll mix some formula for Sawyer, and I’ll have milk.”
“I’ll get it.” He turns, and in the light from the fridge, I can see the shape of his torso through his shirt. Nice.
“Fully leaded, two percent, or goat’s?”
“Just regular old milk, I think.” He hasn’t been here in four days. How much food had to be thrown out because he wasn’t here to eat it? Rich or no, wasting food is a crime. He’s entitled—but not to me. I’d best rein in my hormones and remember that.
He lifts what I’m sure is a brand-new sippy cup from the counter and when I hand him the formula powder, he mixes it, secures the top, and hands it to Sawyer.
While he cooks, I ask what it was like to grow up here. He must’ve had a blast, playing hide-and-seek with his brother.
“Yeah, the seeking part took a long time. But once we got old enough, Carson spent most of his time at the stables and working cattle with the hands. I read a lot.” He smiles to try to hide the wistfulness of his words.
“You didn’t do any of the cowboy stuff?”
“Oh, sure. You couldn’t be Bo’s son and not. I love riding. I just like mounts that don’t try to kill me.”
“Shows who got the brains.”
“Thanks.” He ducks his head to focus on whisking eggs. “You two have got to be tired. We’ll save the tour for tomorrow.”
“I vote for that.”
We chat through dinner about everything and nothing: his cabin progress, my dancing, everything but the life I’ll have to pick up in Unforgiven in a few days.
Afterward, what we own doesn’t take him more than one trip to the truck.
“Um.” I stand in the kitchen doorway. “Wouldn’t it be easier if I stayed down here? I mean, those stairs…”
“No bedrooms down here, sorry. But don’t worry; I’ve got you.” He grabs our bags of clothes and essentials and jogs up the stairs two at a time. I look around the massive hall. “I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore, Toto.” I turn to see that Sawyer has fallen asleep in her high chair, head thrown back, mouth open. I crutch over. “Thank God for you, baby.” I kiss her forehead. Her sweet baby smell anchors me. I didn’t know I could love a human like I love this one.
Reese trots into the kitchen. “How about if I take the princess up and come back for you?”
“I can get myself up there.”
“You can. But it would mean a lot to me to spoil you, just for a few days. Will you let me?” His gaze is warm, his expression sincere.
And I decided before we left to let go a little. “Yes.” I smile up at him.
“Super. I’ll be right back.” He lifts Sawyer out of the chair. Her head lolls on his shoulder.
“But she’s never slept in a bed. I worry—”
“Don’t. I’ve got it covered. Be right back.”
By the time he returns, I’ve hopped three steps up and am resting, breathing like a buffalo. I don’t have my strength back yet.
“There’s that stubborn woman I know.” He takes the crutches from me and leans them against the banister. “Com’ere.”
My arms don’t ask permission; they reach for his neck, and he lifts me. “This is going to be harder, you know. We could end up with broken necks at the bottom.”
“Oh, and here I was picturing myself as Rhett Butler, sweeping you up the stairs.”
I giggle. I must be tired.
At the top, he’s barely breathing hard. “Oh, Rhett.” I bat my eyelashes at him.
“I’m not done yet. I believe this is where…” He gives me a smoking look and lowers his head for a kiss. I take his mouth, doing my best to reenact Scarlett’s passion. Only after two seconds, it’s not an act. My fingers are in his hair and I’m willing him to drop me on a fluffy bed and ravish me.
He pulls his head back and grins. “Hey, we’re pretty good at this.” He carries me down the hall to a room dominated by a canopy bed, trailing flowered chintz. Sawyer is in a crib against the wall. The opposite wall is all window, a French door in the middle. He sets me on the bed.
“Wow.”
“I’ll get your crutches. The bathroom is through there.” He points to a door opposite the bed.
I lie back into what, from the loft, has to be a goose-down comforter.
In a few moments, he steps back in the room and props the crutches against the wall where I can reach them. “I’m right next door. If Sawyer cries during the night, don’t get up. I’ll hear her.”
“Thank you, Reese, really.” I spread my arms over my head in a huge stretch.
“I want you and Sawyer to like it here. It doesn’t feel like such a beautiful empty cage tonight.” He squeezes my hand, then turns and is gone.
I look around at all the luxury, trying to imagine what it would have been like to grow up here.
It would take a remodel and a huge family with a dozen kids to warm this cold place. It makes me want to grab Reese and Sawyer and take them back to Unforgiven, where I could show Reese what love is all about.
Wait, what? I jolt upright, surprised by my thoughts. The next second, I’m surprised to find it’s not really a surprise. I started down this slippery slope a while ago, didn’t I? Yes, I want his body. But it’s more. I want to wrap him up, soothe all his sore places, and make up for his unloving past.
I look inside, but it doesn’t take long for me to see; these feelings are deeper than temporary. I need to be careful. While I’ve been occupied, my heart eased closer to the edge of falling for Reese. And if he’s not for real, this long fall could end with a splat.
Chapter 18
Lorelei
Daybreak pours in the windows, waking me. Sawyer is fussing. I use one crutch to hobble to the crib. She’s wet, of course. Everything I need to change her is on the dresser, next to the crib. What didn’t Reese think of? I can’t remember to bring the diaper cream from
the bathroom to her bedroom, let alone—grief slips like a butter knife between my ribs. Home won’t be waiting when we get back, just a hollowed-out shell of memories, broken and scattered to the wind. Where will we live until the repairs are made?
“Well, all that doesn’t get you out of a wet diaper, does it, Miss Sawyer?” I balance on one foot, leaning against the sturdy crib in my old T-shirt and underwear. “You are such a good girl. You bounce back from everything. I could learn a lot from you.”
When she’s changed, I look at that huge bed with longing. It would be fun to snuggle with her in all that acreage…It’s only three steps. “You think we can do this?”
She reaches for me. “Momma.”
“I’ll take that as a yes.” I lift her, and still leaning on the crib, settle her on my hip, then reach for the crutch. “Hold still, baby. We be motoring.” One precarious hop at a time, we make it—barely. I fall facedown on the bed. Sawyer rolls over with a sweet giggle. “Oh, you think that’s funny, do you?” The crutch is under me, and I wrestle with it, trying to pull it out with all my weight on it.
“What the heck are you doing?” Reese stands in the doorway, hands full with a loaded breakfast tray. He sets it on the dresser and rushes over.
I fight the crutch, aware that my nylon-covered butt was waving in the air. Blood throbs to my face.
“Why didn’t you wait for me?” He tugs the crutch from under my bare leg.
I roll over, pulling down my shirt with one hand and grabbing Sawyer’s ankle with the other to keep her from crawling off the bed. “I could do it. I did do it.” I scoot to the head of the bed, pull up the covers, and pull Sawyer into my arms. “You don’t knock?” I’m decent, except…I’m not wearing a bra. I steal a glimpse down, Yep, the girls are outlined in strained cotton. I tug at the shirt, wishing I could start this day over.
“I thought you were still asleep.” The redness in his cheeks tells me he noticed the titty show. He turns back to retrieve the tray.
The smell of fresh-brewed coffee wafts my way. “If that’s good coffee, you’re forgiven.”
“It is. But you may not be. What if you’d dropped her?” He reaches for Sawyer.
I don’t let go. “I don’t need advice from a guy on how to—”
“What, your sex gives you some mystical unshakable understanding of how to care for her? Keep her safe?” His face is tomato red, and not from embarrassment. “Four months ago you were no more a mother than I am.”
His words hit me with the sting of a slap.
His lips pull back in a wince. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”
“Oh, yes you did.” I pull myself up straighter. Momma would snatch me bald for my sharp words. “It was the vehemence that was a surprise.”
“Look, I’m sorry. I was imagining what could have happened.” He takes a breath and lets it out in a long whoosh. “You’re a great mother. Anyone can see that.”
My bad decisions drop into my brain like hail, each hitting with a thud hard enough to leave a bruise. There are a lot of them. “No, you’re right. I shouldn’t have tried it.” I pull my shoulders and my horns in. “I told myself I was going to give up my pride and ask for help.” I shrug, the rush of emotion making my sinuses prickle. Dammit, I’m not going to cry again. “But I suck at it.”
“I gotta admit, you do.”
His smile crashes my pity party. He’s right. Besides, it’s a gorgeous day, and fighting isn’t a good way to start it. “Yeah, I do. I’ll keep trying.”
“That’s settled. Drink your coffee before it gets cold. Can I have the peanut?”
“Sounds like a fair trade.” I hand her over.
The mattress dips when he sits and settles her in his lap. He lifts a small bowl of oatmeal and a rubber-coated spoon from the tray. “Just the way you like it, Your Highness.”
Sawyer reaches for the spoon.
He fends off her hands. “Oh, no you don’t. I don’t feel like cleaning this off the walls.”
Reese tips a spoonful into her mouth as Sawyer puts her hand in the oatmeal.
“She’s pulled that one on me before. I should have warned you, she’s fast.”
She lifts a handful to her mouth. Some of it even makes it in.
“I can see a bath in your future, kid.” He grabs the linen napkin and swipes her hand and face. Then he gives her a few Goldfish to occupy her hands.
“This coffee is great. Thank you for waiting on us.” I take another sip. “What do you have planned for today?”
“I thought I’d give you two a short tour of the ranch. I had them bring the four-wheeler around front.”
“That’ll be fun, but you don’t have to entertain us. I know you have work to do.”
“Actually, this afternoon, I was hoping to get your advice.”
“Sure, on what?”
“Furniture and stuff for the cabin. I have no idea what to get.”
“Are you kidding? This house is amazing.” So not my style, but amazing just the same.
He spoons more oatmeal to Sawyer. “I had nothing to do with it. When my mother died, Bo brought in a decorator and redid the whole thing.” He looks around the beautiful room.
“Wow. That must have felt like he was wiping your mom out of your life.”
“Everyone deals with grief differently, I guess.” But his eyes are sad. That betrayal cut deep.
“I liked your house. Everything was comfortable. The kind of place you walk in and feel at home. I don’t think a fancy designer could give me that.”
I know he’s just trying to make me feel better. The only thing new in that house was the washer, and that’s because the twenty-five-year-old one died five years back. “I’ll be happy to look at whatever, but I’ll warn you, interior decoration is not my area of expertise.”
“Your taste has gotta be better than mine. I don’t even know what I like.” He looks around again. “But I know this isn’t it. And I didn’t know that until I hung out at your house.” Sawyer heads for the edge of the bed and he grabs her. “You want down?”
He holds Sawyer and lets her slide down the comforter until her feet touch the floor. She clings to the bedspread and stomps her feet. “I do believe this one is going to be walking soon.”
“I’ve thought she was just waiting for the right moment.”
Sawyer takes a sideways step, moves her handholds and takes another. She giggles and takes another.
“Wow, you go, baby.” I’d love to sit here and chat longer, but I have got to get to the bathroom, and he’s seen way too much of my booty already today. “I need to get up and um…”
“Oh, of course.” He leaps off the bed, sweeps Sawyer in his arms, and dangles her upside down. “I’ll get the princess ready, okay?”
She squeals with laughter.
“Okay, but if you do that much more, you’re going to be cleaning up oatmeal. I’m just saying.”
He swings her upright. “Come on, Sawyer. Let’s go get ready.” He steps to the dresser, pulls out a pink frilly top and knit shorts I’ve never seen. “We’ll give your momma some privacy.” He bounces to the door like a prancing horse, making Sawyer giggle. He steps through, then turns back. “You yell when you’re ready and I’ll take you downstairs. Agreed?”
Unless I scoot down on my butt, I don’t see any other way. “Agreed.”
I could take a bath in the bathroom sink. I almost do. I manage to wash everything including my hair and get dressed without falling once. I can’t wait to get back on my own two feet. “A few more days,” that’s the very earliest the doctor would venture a guess that the stitches could come out. Reese said he’ll take me to his doctor here and have it checked.
When I stump out to the hallway, Reese and Sawyer are walking by, Sawyer holding his fingers.
“Momma!”
My heart soars. I’m so grateful for this miracle baby. “Well, hey, look at you, Peanut.”
“She takes after her daddy in the athletic department.” Reese is be
aming. “I’m taking bets. I say before she leaves, she’s got this walking thing down.”
“That’s a bet I wouldn’t take.” God, I miss holding her. All I can do is stand and watch.
“I want to show you something.” He swings her up into his arms.
“Down.”
I crutch over to pet her, but she’s squirming. “That girl knows what she wants, Baba.”
He sets her on her feet but holds her hands. “I think she got that from your side.”
I smile. “Probably.”
“We’re just going here.” He steers Sawyer into the doorway next to our bedroom.
He doesn’t have to tell me it’s his. It’s all business, from the modern desk shoved against the wall with the huge computer monitor to the whiteboard over it, covered in multicolored forward-slanted print, a combination of reminders, coordinates, and breeding notes. There’s a map, which must be for flying, because it’s full of concentric circles, with no roads. The single iron bed is, I’ll bet, his from when he was a kid, neatly made with a bright Navajo blanket.
But what pulls my attention is the three galloping wooden ponies on an otherwise bare shelf over the bed. One is a fanciful Appaloosa, painted with pastels. The other is in Indian war paint. And the one of mine, he bought from the five-and-dime. “I know which is yours.” I take two hops to the shelf.
“Which?”
“This one.” I lift the pastel Appaloosa.
“How did you know?”
“I can see your mom lifting it out of the dime-store window, thinking, ‘Oh, this is so Reese.’”
His eyes are suspiciously shiny, and he just nods. Sawyer leads him away.
The rest of the room is as empty as a sinner’s soul. It shows me Reese’s life more clearly than anything he ever told me. This room is the opposite of the rest of the house, almost monk-like in its austerity.
My heart aches for that little boy. For the man with gobs of money and an empty place where his family should have been.