Was that what she wanted? Or did she want to continue to pursue her long-held dream of being a journalist? All Lainey knew for sure was that she had some serious choices ahead of her. Like how far she was willing to go to uncover Brad McCabe’s secret.
Annie studied Lainey. “Is that frown related to our discussion—or to the man who has you tied in knots?”
Lainey wasn’t used to talking about her personal life, but heaven knows she needed to confide in someone. “It’s that obvious?” she asked wearily.
“Let’s just say I recognize the particular type of tension flowing between you and Brad because it used to flow like the Rio Grande between Travis and me before we hooked up.”
Lainey recalled Annie and Travis had enjoyed the kind of high-profile romance that’d had the whole community buzzing, yet they had come out of it with a relationship that only seemed to get stronger and more loving every year. Lainey gazed at the rosebushes Annie had planted next to the porch.
“Is Brad the kind of womanizer everyone says he is?”
“There’s no shortage of women pursuing him. He’s so handsome and charming. I just don’t think he’s allowed himself to get caught very often, if at all.”
“A good-time guy,” Lainey paraphrased, her mood as careful and wary as it should have been earlier.
Annie sighed, worry coming into her pretty eyes. “Let’s just say, before Brad did Bachelor Bliss, he never minded entering a party with a pretty woman on his arm. Now, he’s lucky if he gives any female the time of day.”
That was certainly how Brad had behaved when Lainey had first showed up at the Lazy M to talk to Lewis. But lately, Brad had been giving her a lot more than the time of day. But then, she had kind of gotten in his face, in her efforts to get the real story out of him. If Lainey were half the reporter Sybil seemed to think she was, she would have told Brad right away who she was working for and pressed a lot harder to get him to ’fess up. Instead, she was letting Brad’s comfort level—instead of her own pressing timetable—dictate her reporting. She was easing off on the scoop of the summer, wishing instead that she could spend more time with Brad, just for the sake of their getting to know each other. How crazy was that?
Annie shook her head at Lainey. “He’s really gotten to you, hasn’t he?”
Whoo, boy, had he. Lainey had never been this distracted—and fascinated—by a man before. She pushed out of her rocking chair, and moved to the edge of the porch. Abruptly, she realized the ranch had gotten awfully quiet. Never a good sign where kids were concerned. She peered around to the side yard. No boys. No dog. Uh-oh. “Do you know where the kids went?” she asked.
Annie’s brow furrowed. “They’re supposed to be right there.”
Worry slid to panic. “They’re not.”
Annie leaped out of her chair. She was halfway down the front porch, with Lainey right after her. At the same time, Travis, Brad and Lewis emerged from the barn closest to the ranch house. Annie cupped her hands around her mouth and yelled at Travis, “Are the boys with you?”
Travis shook his head.
In the distance, there was a bark.
Then another.
And another.
They all turned in the direction of the sound.
In the distance, Duke could be seen leaping and bounding through a pasture of four-foot-high grass, bordering a thicket of cedar trees and juniper bushes.
“Oh, no!” Annie said, frowning.
Travis frowned, too. “I’ll get ’em,” he said.
“YOU BOYS KNOW BETTER than to go out there in shorts and tennis shoes,” Annie scolded, as the boys and their dog returned to the yard where they were supposed to be hanging out.
“We were just playing ranchers and rustlers,” nine-year-old Kurt explained to the five grown-ups who had been worried about them.
“Yeah.” Eight-year-old Kyle chimed in, more interested in the game they had been playing than the safety issues in question. “Kurt stole Rocco—he was pretending to be our prize bull—and me and Petey had to go and get ’em.”
“That’s all fine and good,” Travis said sternly. “But you need to play that game in the yard where we can see you.”
Brad nodded in agreement, looking sober indeed. “Those woods are deceptively deep. You guys could get lost out there.”
“Or at the very least come down with a good case of poison oak or ivy!” Lainey said, belatedly aware she hadn’t once thought to caution Petey about that. But she hadn’t expected him to run off, either. “You don’t have jeans and long-sleeved shirts on,” she explained, more to her son than to the other two boys who lived on the ranch and knew the precautions necessary. “You’re in shorts and T-shirts.”
Abruptly, Petey’s temper flared. “I don’t even have any jeans here, Mom!” he fumed.
Lainey stared at her son in shock, embarrassed by his sassy tone. “Since when do you talk back to me?”
Petey folded his arms and glared at Lainey petulantly. “Since you treat me like a baby instead of a grown-up guy.”
Well, maybe that’s because you’re not a grown-up guy, Lainey thought, aware this was not a discussion she wanted to have here. “I think we need to go home,” she said, plastering a cordial smile on her face. She knew she was being abrupt, but it had been a very long day and she could see Petey was close to a meltdown. “Thank you so much for a lovely dinner and play date.”
“I don’t want to go home!” Petey shouted in a manner that was completely unlike him.
His two playmates, who might be prone to mischief but knew better than to talk back, fell silent, looking shocked, too. Duke lay on the ground at their feet, panting hard after his exertion in the heat of the summer evening.
“We’re going,” Lainey said firmly. She put her hand on Petey’s shoulder.
Petey jerked free. He was already scratching furiously at his neck, legs and arms.
Brad’s expression went from sympathy to concern. “Better get him in the shower as soon as possible. Lots of soap and water everywhere he might have come into contact with poison oak, ivy or sumac.”
“You guys, too.” Annie herded her two youngest sons toward the house.
Travis nodded before turning to follow his wife and boys. “And be careful handling his clothes,” he told Lainey. “They could have the oily residue from the poison weeds on them, too.”
“Thanks,” Lainey said. She knew all this, but it had been so long since she’d been out in the Texas countryside and had had to deal with it that she had almost forgotten.
“You can’t make me do anything I don’t want to do!” Petey continued to shout ferociously.
Tired of fooling around, Lainey took Petey by the arm, her manner no-nonsense. “We’ll just see about that, young man,” she said, already guiding him in the direction of their SUV. “Now march!”
LAINEY PHONED THE RANCH HOUSE as soon as Petey was out of the shower. “Do you guys have anything for chigger bites on hand?” If they didn’t, she was going to have to pack Petey in the car, pajamas and all, and drive to town.
“Be right over,” Brad said.
He was at the guest house door two minutes later, bottle of Listerine mouthwash in hand, looking ready, able and eager to help.
“The insect bites are on his arms, legs, neck and face, not in his mouth,” Lainey said dryly, feeling ridiculously glad to have him there as backup. She ushered him inside.
“Oh, ye of little faith,” Brad said dryly. Petey emerged from the bathroom, clad in a pair of cotton sleep shorts and a Texas Rangers T-shirt.
Brad knelt in front of Petey. “Pretty miserable, huh?”
Petey glared at Lainey, like she was the worst mother on the entire planet, then looked back at Brad with a sad little nod. “I itch so bad,” Petey whispered, as if Brad were his only friend left in the world.
Brad gave Petey a reassuring pat on his shoulder, letting Petey know with a look that things were going to be all right very soon, then asked Lainey quietly, “Do you h
ave a small bowl or something I could pour this into?”
Lainey went to get it. Brad followed, her son in hand, and hefted Petey onto the kitchen counter as if he weighed five—not sixty-five—pounds. “This seem strange to you?” Brad asked Petey as he dipped a cotton ball into the minty-smelling mouthwash and began daubing it on the red welts on Petey’s legs.
Petey nodded.
“Well, give it a minute,” Brad advised.
“That feels kind of good,” Petey said, after a moment. He looked at Brad gratefully. “It doesn’t itch no more.”
“Anymore,” Lainey corrected.
Petey glared at her again.
“Forgive me for being a mother,” she muttered under her breath.
Brad grinned. He gave Petey a commiserating look as he dipped the cotton ball in mouthwash and began attending to the angry red bites on Petey’s arms. “Women.” Brad shook his head. “What are you going to do?”
Petey mimicked Brad’s droll gesture and heaved a great big sigh. “I don’t know,” he said.
Grateful to Brad not only for making her son more comfortable, but for defusing the potentially explosive situation, Lainey leaned against the counter, watching. Chip had loved Petey dearly, but he had been a hands-off father when it came to anything practical. Chip had never changed a diaper, or gotten up with Petey in the middle of the night, or helped him learn his spelling words. She sensed Brad would do all that for any child of his, and more.
“Where did you get the idea to do this?” she asked.
“My brother, Riley.”
“The physician who is coming to town soon?”
“Right. He learned it in medical school. I guess they did some studies and found that the herbal ingredients in Listerine have both antifungal and anti-itch properties. It kills the chigger, soothes the site of the bite, and voilà…you’re better before you know it.” Brad daubed Listerine on the spots on Petey’s neck, then stood back. “Okay, cowboy, do you feel like I missed any? Are you still itching anywhere?”
Petey shook his head. “Thanks, Brad.”
“You’re welcome.” Brad held out his hand. “Put her there, pardner.”
Petey shook his hand.
Lainey hated to break it up, but she knew Petey was tired to the point of exhaustion. “Okay, sport, thank Brad and then head to bed.”
Petey turned to Lainey, the anger gone. In its place was the need to make up with her, at least most of the way, before he went to sleep. “Can I read for a little bit?”
Lainey doubted he’d get past two pages, but she never discouraged reading. She knew it was the key to his future success. “Yes.”
Petey turned back to Brad. “Thank you for helping me out. My mommy wouldn’t have known what to do to make me stop itching so fast.”
Lainey’s jaw dropped. That wasn’t quite true. And the glint in Brad’s eyes as he glanced at her told her he knew it, too.
“Anytime you need anything you let me know.” Brad ruffled Petey’s head. The boy grinned and started back to his bedroom. Lainey was about to say something when her son turned back, gave her a brief, sorrow-laced hug, and then departed once again. Brad returned to the kitchen. He capped the bottle of Listerine. “You want to keep this? I’ve got an extra bottle at the house.”
“If you don’t mind, I think I will. And thanks—for helping and coming over.” Lainey walked him out to the front porch. Darkness was descending. It was going to be a clear, pretty night, with lots of stars in the velvety Texas sky overhead.
“I’m sorry he was upset earlier.”
“He was just overtired,” she said.
“Sure that’s all it is?”
Leave it to Brad to hit the nail on the head. Lainey bit her lip. Who would have thought he could be this easy to talk to? “He’s having a hard time lately.”
Brad’s expression gentled. “Because he lost his dad?”
Lainey hesitated, more unsure of herself than ever. Something else that was unusual. Her ability to mother was the one thing she had always been confident about. “I don’t know. It’s been two years.”
“Yet—?” He studied her, guessing there was more.
Lainey perched on the porch railing, her back to the yard, and ran a hand down the sturdy wooden post that supported the roof. “He was doing so well. I mean, initially, when Chip died, he had trouble concentrating at school, cried a lot and missed his father terribly during holidays. But as time wore on and almost two years passed, he seemed to be coping great. Then, suddenly, this last spring, he wasn’t coping so well anymore. The things that used to make him so happy—spending time with his cousins, going on family outings, even going to the playground at the park—have left him tense and irritable.”
Compassion crossed Brad’s face beneath the warm glow of the porch lights. “Because he misses his dad?”
“And because he’s growing up without one and thinks I treat him too much like a baby.”
Edging nearer, Brad stood with his legs braced apart, hands in the back pockets of his jeans. “You don’t. I’ve seen you with him. You are remarkably gentle and respectful, even when Petey’s in the midst of having a meltdown.”
“Thank you.” She ducked her head. “But I don’t feel so competent.” She lifted her head again and looked into his eyes. “That’s why I wanted to spend some time in Laramie this summer and let him participate in the game-testing program at Lewis’s company. And be out here at the ranch, too. I thought a change of pace might lift his spirits. Take the quarrelsome edge, that occasionally seems to appear with no warning or reason, off his demeanor. I thought it was working, that he was really happy again. Now, I’m not so sure.”
Brad moved to perch beside her on the railing. He reached over and took her hand in his. “He’s just a little kid, Lainey. He’s going to have his good days and his bad, regardless of how you mother him.”
She tried not to think about how good it felt to have her hand clasped in that warm, strong palm. “And how would you know that?” she probed.
Brad grimaced, the brooding look back in his eyes. “Because I lost a parent, too.”
Chapter Eight
Compassion filled Lainey’s heart. “How old were you when your mom died?”
“Fourteen. But she was ill for months before that.”
“Breast cancer, right?” Lainey asked, aware this was the first time Brad had allowed himself to be really vulnerable to her.
He nodded. “I was a lot older than Petey. Old enough to understand that life isn’t always fair, and sometimes people get sick and they die. But it was still hard for me and my siblings and especially my dad, because he loved my mom so much. We all did.”
Lainey had been married with a family of her own when she lost her parents. That had been difficult enough. She tightened her grip on Brad’s hand. “As a kid…as a family…how did you cope?” Did the McCabes have some lessons they could impart to her?
“At first we were just so numb,” Brad allowed reluctantly. His eyes took on a distant look. “I think to outsiders it looked like we were doing better than we were because everyone was still going through the motions, just the way we had when Mom was alive. But then as time went on the charade got harder and harder to maintain and everything began to fall apart. We went through nanny after nanny. Finally, in desperation, Dad moved us here, and that’s when Kate Marten—my stepmother—came into our lives and made us deal with our loss.”
“That’s just it, though, Brad,” Lainey said softly. “I’m almost certain Petey has already worked through his loss.”
“Then what could be causing this difference in his behavior?”
She shrugged, averting her gaze from the tempting proximity of his chiseled lips. “My sister-in-law, Bunny, thinks it’s growing pains combined with the lack of male influence in his life.”
He cupped her hand in both of his. “But you don’t agree.”
She studied their clasped hands, aware of how natural this felt. “I know he misses being ar
ound Chip. All you have to do is look at how he perks up whenever you, Lewis, Travis and all the other guys around here pay him attention.”
“He’s a great kid. We enjoy being around him.”
“And he, you.”
An awkward silence fell between them. She knew she should either end the evening now…or risk kissing again. Deciding she needed her wits about her to complete the story she’d been assigned, she stood.
Before she got more than two steps away, Brad caught her wrist and tugged her back.
She pivoted to face him.
“I feel like I shouldn’t have to say this,” he stated seriously, “but what I told you earlier about Yvonne pretending to be one kind of person when she was really another…that stays between the two of us. I don’t want anyone else—even my family—suspecting how I was duped.”
Guilt flooded her. Much more than just Brad’s pride was at stake here. “Until you tell me otherwise, absolutely,” she promised, meaning it.
“I’m not changing my mind about this, Lainey,” he warned gruffly, closing the distance between them. “My private life, the way I was deliberately set up, is not for public consumption.”
Well, there went her article for Personalities and the chance to jump-start her journalism career at the national level, Lainey thought, depressed. Unless she could convince him to change his mind, of course.
Did she want to?
Brad picked up on her confusion. And misjudged the reason for it.
“About earlier,” he said after a moment.
She had only to look into his eyes to know he was talking about the passionate clinch that still had her insides humming with unslaked desire. Embarrassed at the lack of restraint she had shown when he pulled her into his arms, she moved to the edge of the porch and glanced away. “We don’t have to talk about that.”
He followed her, standing so close she could feel the warmth of his body and hear the slow, steady meter of his breath. “Suppose I want to?” he said quietly.
If she let her guard down, she knew what would happen. She couldn’t risk falling head over heels in love with a man she was trying her best to remain objective about. She knew full well that business and pleasure did not mix. So she pretended this was about something other than what it was, too. “Look, I know you’re more experienced in that particular arena than I am,” she said, focusing strictly on the highly sexual nature of the encounter.
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