“Really?” Travis’s eyes narrowed. “Then what the hell are you doing? If she doesn’t want to marry you, then take that gift and get out while you can.” Travis’s voice was hard.
“Really? You think I should just walk away?” Chase slammed down the knife. “That baby she’s carrying is the child of my best friend, who I owe my life and this ranch to. You think I should walk away and let that kid live the same life we did? You think that’s what I should do?”
“You can save the kid in other ways than marrying her! Hell, Chase, you don’t even like women. What the hell has she got on you?”
“Nothing!”
“Then why don’t you use your damned head and think of a solution that doesn’t put any of this place at risk?”
“Because I don’t want to!” The words burst out before he could stop it, and then hung in the air, suspended between them.
Travis whistled softly, understanding dawning on his face. “You’ve fallen for her. Completely and totally. It’s not about the baby. It’s about her.”
“Shut the hell up.” Chase jammed the knife through the bell pepper, chopping it up into jagged pieces.
“You don’t even know her.” Travis walked over and leaned on the counter next to Chase. “Talk to me, bro. What’s going on?”
Chase kept chopping. “Just doing my civic duty.” Even as he said the words, his conversation with Mira came tumbling back. He set down the knife yet again, looking at his brother. “Do you think we’ll all end up like him? You ever hit a woman? Or a kid?”
Travis was silent for a long moment, then shook his head. “No. I never have.” He met Chase’s gaze. “But I get pissed. A lot. I have a punching bag in my tour bus. I use that.”
“You think a kid would be okay with you as a dad?”
Again, a long silence, then Travis shrugged. “I hadn’t thought about it, but I don’t know. What do we know about being good for anyone, let alone a kid?”
“Nothing.” Chase picked up the knife again, and started slicing the jalapeño. “Not a damn thing.”
Travis sighed, and leaned against the counter, his arms folded loosely over his chest. “This thing with Mira is wrong on a thousand different levels, bro. You know that. It’s wrong for the ranch, for us, for you, for her, and for that kid.”
Chase said nothing as he dumped the vegetables into the bowl of beaten eggs. Travis’s words made sense, but he couldn’t own them. The thought of walking away from Mira felt wrong all the way to his gut. Was it just because he’d had her in his head as a fantasy for so long? Or was it a real response to the woman he’d made love to all night? He added his signature spices, stirring the mixture until it was well-blended.
“Some of us aren’t meant to get married and be a dad,” Travis said. “Some of us are meant to live a different life.”
Chase poured his concoction into the frying pan. “Yeah, maybe.” He’d always thought that of himself, but Mira had made him think differently. Now he was thinking about things he had no business contemplating, but he couldn’t stop himself.
“That’s us,” Travis said. “The nine Stockton fuck-ups. We’re meant to be solo, and to come back here and recharge and make sure our roots are secure. You’re the anchor, and so is this place. It’s just how life is.” He reached across the counter and snagged his mug. “We’re meant to drink good coffee and try not to fuck up the world we live in, and you know it.”
Chase grabbed a spatula, watching the omelet begin to sizzle and bubble around the sides. Travis was simply repeating the truth they’d all come to accept as they’d gotten older and realized how close to the edge they all treaded. Only Steen had realized it too late, winding up in prison due to a battle over a woman. The poor bastard was still there, but the clock was ticking down on his release. What did a man become after four years in prison? “I know.”
“Let Mira go, Chase. Give her a wad of cash if you want, but let her go. She deserves more than what you can give her, and we all deserve more than what a woman will bring into our lives—” He stopped suddenly, cutting himself off, staring past Chase toward the hallway.
Chase looked over his shoulder, and his gut sank when he saw Mira standing in the doorway. She was wearing jeans and a tank top. Her hair was still wet, and her feet were bare. Without makeup or any adornments, she looked so young and vulnerable that his heart tightened.
She was staring at Travis, and he knew that she’d heard at least the end of the conversation. He quickly replayed it in his mind, trying to recall what they’d said.
Slowly, she pulled her gaze off his brother and looked right at him. He saw the question in her eyes, asking him what he wanted her to do.
He didn’t need to ask what she felt. She was prepared to walk out and leave him to the life he’d worked so hard to accomplish. Travis’s comments had made him realize that his efforts to create a homestead for his brothers was working. It would be a slow process to get them all back there and reconnected, but it was already working. He had what he wanted. He had everything he wanted.
Would he really risk it for a woman he barely knew? A woman who wasn’t even ready to trust him, or even trust her own feelings for him? A woman who was so tightly entwined through his soul that he didn’t even know which parts were his fantasy and which were real? For a child who could embroil him in a legal battle that could decimate his finances if he fought it all the way through? Alan was a formidable opponent, far more than his own father had ever been, but just as rotten to the core.
Mira raised her eyebrows, and he knew she was waiting for his answer. She wanted it now. She needed it, because she had a life she had to figure out, and the clock was ticking. All he had to do was nod, and she would walk away without a single look back.
Travis looked over at him, and he saw his brother’s dark expression, already retreating from the presence of a woman in their sanctuary. “Tell her, Chase.”
Mira pressed her lips together and raised her chin. “Tell me what?”
He looked back and forth between them, and he knew that the only two things in the world that made him feel alive were standing there, and he had to choose between them.
***
“I’ve made a decision,” Mira cut Chase off just as he opened his mouth to answer.
Travis raised his eyebrows. “Did you?”
“No.” Chase interrupted. “Mira—”
“There’s no need to get married.” She blurted out the words before Chase could speak. She’d heard enough of the conversation between the brothers, and she’d seen the look of torment on Chase’s face when she’d walked in. She didn’t know what he would choose, but either one was unacceptable. If he’d stood up for her against Travis, he would lose his brother. If he’d told her to leave… God, the mere thought of it made something inside her want to cry with loss. There was no way she could handle him cutting her out, but there was no way that she’d be responsible for coming between the brothers. Which meant she had to take herself out of the equation before Chase could be forced to make a choice.
Chase shot an angry look at Travis, whose relief was obvious. “Don’t listen to my brother,” Chase said. “He’s—”
“He cares about you,” she interrupted. She stepped into the kitchen, knowing what she had to say. She’d realized the moment Travis had cut himself off and looked at her. Everything had become clear when she’d seen the bond between the brothers. She’d been touched by the depth of their fear of how broken they both were, and she now understood how important the ranch was to all of them. It had been beautiful seeing their connection, but at the same time, she’d felt like an intruder into their space.
She deserved more than to live life as an outsider, and so did her child.
“The issue with the baby is not whether I’m married to Chase. It’s whether we can convince Alan that Chase is the biological father. If I stay here for a few months, it sets up our relationship sufficiently.” She didn’t look at Chase as she talked. She couldn’t. It wa
s harder than she thought to pull away from him, even after this short time. “I don’t need to marry him.” She looked at Travis. “And I don’t need his money.”
Chase swore under his breath. “You do need money.”
“Just a roof over my head and food until I can get a job. Selling my parents’ house should cover most of the medical bills.” Her throat suddenly tightened, and she felt a wave of sadness at her mother’s death, but she lifted her chin. “It’s clear that I can’t put AJ’s name on the birth certificate, and I feel that leaving it blank is too dangerous.” She met Chase’s gaze. “The only thing I think I really need from you is your name on the birth certificate. With any luck, nothing more will ever happen, but it gives us the ammunition if we need it.”
She knew the risk of giving him parental rights over the child, but she couldn’t think of any other way. Chase’s name had to be on there, or the child would always be vulnerable to Alan.
Chase’s eyes narrowed. “It might not be enough, if Alan comes after him.”
“Marriage doesn’t change whether you’re the baby’s biological father or not. If we make our relationship clear and visible, and your name is on the birth certificate, then it’s just as good as if we were married. The only issue will be that the baby will be born ‘early,’ so we need to lay low until then. Alan has to forget about me.” She shrugged. “If he forces a DNA test, then it doesn’t matter whether you’re married to me or not.”
“It might help.” Chase was gripping the spatula so hard that his knuckles were white.
“The omelet’s burning,” Travis said. “Needs to be flipped.”
Chase glared at him, then turned back to the stove. He flipped the omelet deftly, making it apparent that he didn’t lack kitchen skills, which was a little surprising. It made him seem softer, and more human, which she really didn’t need.
Travis walked past her, poured a cup of coffee, and then held it out to her. “You want cream or sugar?”
She was so surprised by his offer that for a moment, all she could do was stare blankly at him. “What?”
“You drink coffee? Chase makes the best.”
She glanced at Chase, then accepted the mug. “Black is fine.”
Travis inclined his head, then returned to his place at the counter. “The omelet is worth hanging around for, too.”
Chase frowned at his brother, as if he were as confused as she was by Travis’s sudden congeniality. “I made enough for you,” he said, glancing back at Mira.
Okay, she was completely confused. She’d been in the middle of a great speech, and now the guys were talking about food? “Great. I love omelets.” Were omelets and coffee actually part of a secret code she knew nothing about? Had she just agreed to a midnight bloodletting ceremony in the hayloft? She looked at Travis. “Are you trying to poison me, or do you suddenly not think I’m a curse cast upon this place and your brother?”
Travis grinned, and tapped the brim of his hat in a salute. “It was a good speech, Ms. Cabot. I believed it. You don’t want my brother, his money, or his ranch, so yeah, I’m good.”
She blinked. “Just like that? You believe me?”
“Yeah.” He picked up his coffee. “People don’t impress me much, but I know good stock when I see it.” He raised the mug in a toast. “To bastard fathers who bring people together.”
Mira glanced at Chase. He didn’t look nearly as pleased as Travis did. “I think you should stay until the baby is born,” he said tersely. “No point in risking it.”
Relief rushed through her at his words, and she felt herself relax. She’d meant every word of her speech, but the truth was that a part of her wanted nothing more than to stay on his ranch in his protective circle. Staying until the baby was born, without getting married, gave her time to get her feet under her and set up her life. “I can live with that.” Instinctively, she looked over at Travis and raised her brows.
He scowled, a moody look that made him look vaguely familiar. “Nine months? That’s kind of a while.”
“Is it?” Chase flicked off the burner with a little too much force. He jerked up his sleeve and shoved his arm in front of Travis’s face, showing him the cigarette burns. “The baby’s father had these all over his fucking back, his cheekbone had been broken in two places, and his left foot didn’t even fucking work anymore, all because his daddy was as bad as ours. The baby’s father, my best friend, is dead, but the bastard who messed him up isn’t. Mira’s spent the last eight years caring for her paralyzed mother. Every last cent she had went into taking care of her, and now she’s got a child to protect. And you want to put a fucking time limit on the protection we give the two of them? Did all your limousines make you forget exactly how shitty life is as a kid without anyone to protect you?”
Travis stared at Chase’s arm for a long moment, and when he looked up, his expression had changed. He looked cold and hard, as if he were ready to strike out at the first person who looked at him the wrong way. She wondered where his scars were. “I’m in,” he said, his voice hard. “It doesn’t get to happen again.”
His voice was so unrelenting, that she knew he wouldn’t change his mind. Suddenly tears filled her eyes, and she didn’t even know what to say.
Travis looked at her, and his eyes narrowed. “You have a phone?”
She lifted her chin, refusing to let him see that she was almost ready to cry just because the two of them were willing to stand by her. “Yes, why?”
“Get it.”
She pulled it out of her back pocket. “I have it. Why?”
“Put my number in it. If you can’t reach Chase, you call me. Just put it under Travis Stockton, not Turner, just in case anyone sees your phone.” He rattled off his phone number, but she was so surprised she forgot to type it in.
He frowned at her. “What?”
“You’re Travis Turner? The famous country music star?” She’d heard of Travis Turner many times, and some of his songs were on her play list. “No wonder you looked familiar.” She actually felt a little bit fan-girl for a moment.
Chase plunked a plate with part of an omelet down in front of her. “He’s Travis Stockton,” he said firmly. “Travis Turner is a stage name because we’re a bunch of anti-social hermits who don’t want the public in our business.” He gave Travis another plate, and then filled the last one for himself.
Travis nodded at her phone. “Put the number in your phone, Ms. Cabot. I want it in there before I leave.”
She quickly typed his number in her phone. Travis Turner’s mobile number was in her phone? How insane was that? “I won’t share it.”
“I know.” He took a sip of his coffee. “That’s why I gave it to you.” He picked up his coffee and omelet. “Front porch,” he announced. “It’s a damn fine day.” He headed out the door. She grabbed her plate to follow him, but Chase stopped her with a hand to her arm.
Her belly clenched at his touch, and all thoughts of Travis-the-superstar fled until all that remained was Chase. She swallowed and forced herself to look up at him. With Travis in the room, she’d been able to avoid intimacy with Chase, but now that it was just them, the night of lovemaking with him flooded her mind and senses. Heat radiated from her skin, and she felt her cheeks flush with embarrassment and more than a little desire. “What is it?”
He slid his hand through her hair, and cupped the back of her neck. “I haven’t given you a proper good morning, yet,” he said.
She swallowed. “Good morning—”
He bent his head and kissed her. It wasn’t a platonic, “hey, we’re roommates now,” kind of kiss. It was a kiss intended to shred every last one of her defenses, and to plunge straight to her core and ignite the same firestorm of passion that he’d unleashed last night. She had no defenses against him, and she sank into him as he kissed her. His mouth just tasted so good, and the strength of his body as he pulled her into his arms was irresistible.
She sighed in capitulation, and kissed him back.
; The kiss turned carnal within seconds, and she felt his hands on her hips, drawing her against him as he backed her against the counter. God, not in the kitchen! She pushed at his chest, and was surprised when he stopped.
He broke the kiss and pulled back just enough so he could look at her. Without his cowboy hat, he looked younger. His dark brown hair was disheveled from a night of lovemaking, and his jaw was dark with whiskers. “Nine months,” he said. “I have nine months.”
“Nine months to do what?” Make love to her until she died of ecstasy? Because right now, she felt like that might be an okay way to meet her demise.
“To figure this out.” He kissed her once more, breaking the kiss before she had time to respond. “Travis is waiting. Let’s eat.” He gave her a wink that made her belly flip over, then he grabbed both their plates, forks, and napkins, and headed out the door. “Grab our coffee, will you?”
He didn’t wait for an answer. He just walked, leaving her with a body that was still tingling from his assault.
What? She was so not okay with those terms. “Chase!”
He paused at the door, turning back to look at her. “Yeah?”
“Don’t kiss me again.”
His eyes narrowed thoughtfully, as he turned back toward her. She stiffened as he walked back over to her, still holding the plates. “Why not?”
She raised her chin. “Because I can’t do that. I can’t be sleeping with you and trying to establish my life. You’re just too…overpowering.”
“Mira—”
She held up her hand to silence him. “What were you going to say when I walked in? If I hadn’t announced I wasn’t going to marry you, what would you have said? Were you going to risk the ranch and your brothers to marry me?” Whoops. She hadn’t meant to ask that. She didn’t want to hear him say it. “Never mind.” She grabbed the coffee mugs and brushed past him, heading out to the porch, ignoring his shocked look at her bold question.
She waited for him to call her back and answer her question.
He didn’t.
A Real Cowboy Never Says No Page 12