by Em Petrova
“No, honey bun. Not this way. I want you unlike I’ve ever wanted anyone in my life, but you have to know why.”
Confusion moved behind her eyes but damn if her lips didn’t look as if she’d been biting them. He counted to ten before he spoke.
“I want you, Sabrina. To sink into your body and lose myself to you. I want to put you on that piece of land and not only because I need a wife to get the deed. No, it’s you I want. The woman who takes such good care of our son and drives me wild arguing with me. The smart, pretty teacher who cares so much for her students and who brings a ray of sun to my day when she talks about lesson plans. The woman I’ve never been able to get out of my blood.”
“I…” her throat worked, “…don’t know what to say.”
He stared into her eyes, still tasting her on his lips and wanting more, more, more. “Don’t say anything. Think about me and what I have to offer. Not just security and a father who’s there for Owen. But me.” He thumped his chest. “I’m different.”
She gulped. Nodded.
Seeing there was nothing left to say, he rolled off the bed, took a deep breath and left her room. He hoped like hell it rained tonight—he needed a cold splash of water over his entire body. But it wouldn’t be enough to dampen his desire.
Chapter Seven
The big ranch house felt unbearably crowded. After Beck slammed the front door, everyone in the Dalton family knew he was upset. Because of her.
Embarrassment mingled with unspent desire. She hungered for more from him. If he hadn’t put the brakes on, she would have fallen into his arms and let him love her all night long. What had she been thinking?
She hadn’t been—that was the trouble. She lost her mind around Beck. Then he went and said soft things that made her heart flutter.
After cutting some of the redness on her face with cold water, she went downstairs in search of her baby. She needed to hold him close and talk to him. To rock him to sleep.
Kade had him in the highchair, handing him various spoons to chew on. When she entered the kitchen, he held up both hands as if she were the sheriff. “I swear I didn’t feed him anything.”
She gave a sad laugh. “Thank you for entertaining him during my temporary moment of insanity.”
Kade gave her a sharp look. She’d hardly said a dozen words to him in her life, but she felt she needed to explain to somebody. “He’s a sweet kid. Not like Hank’s oldest at this age. He cried a lot and never stopped messing his pants.”
Sabrina took a seat on the bench beside Kade. Owen banged a spoon, drool connecting his lower lip to the tray. Now that she’d made the decision to talk to a Dalton about her situation, she didn’t know what to say.
“Beck’s in the barn if you want to talk to him.”
She shook her head, tears suddenly too close to the surface. “No. Not yet.”
“Look, I don’t know your history. Your past seems messier than Hank Jr.’s pants. But I’ll tell you something about Beck.”
She looked at him, waiting.
“In the past year or so he’s different.”
“I see it,” she said quietly.
“And he’s crazy about you.”
Her throat worked against a sob. “I see that too. I just don’t know if I can go there again.”
“Nobody can make that decision except you, but I think you’re crazy about him too. Why are you fighting it?”
Emotion rushed into her chest—flooding her heart. Happiness and love overflowed, and they could be hers if only she would reach out and snag them.
Kade got up. “I’ll tell you one more thing. If I ever look at a woman the way Beck looks at you, I’m damn well putting a ring on it. Happiness doesn’t come to everyone, and if you get a chance in the rodeo, you jump into the arena with both feet.”
Sabrina rested her elbows on the table and dropped her face into her hands. “I’m afraid I’m messed up. All I know about relationships is from my parents. Even divorced they were terrible for each other, and I was in the middle. My father was immature and I saw those traits in Beck. At least then I did. Now he’s…different, as you said. As he said.”
Owen cooed and she glanced up. Then looked around. The kitchen was empty. How Kade had sneaked out without her realizing was a mystery. It didn’t matter—he’d still listened, at least to her thinking.
She cleaned the drool off Owen’s face and took him out of the highchair. Then she fixed him a bottle, put him in a dry diaper and pajamas and rocked him to sleep. Once he was sleeping soundly, she went downstairs. She had to find Beck and make things right.
Or at least ease tensions.
No, that thought is worse. The knot in her core was still pulled so tight it was distracting. But she didn’t need to get naked with Beck—talking was a priority.
She slipped outside. Darkness had fallen, and the warm purple shadows pulled her into their embrace. Crickets raised a thousand voices, but she heard the creak of the old swing.
Barefooted, she walked the length of the porch to reach the swing. The man seated there slid over to give her room. He pushed off with a boot heel and they started to sway.
When she slid her hand into his big, rough one, he gave a start. “I’m sorry, Beck. For all of it.”
“I’m not.”
“I’m not talking about earlier. I mean for running and not telling you about Owen. It was wrong of me, and I hope you can forgive me.”
In the dimness, his eyes were as black and shiny as coal. “Only if you can forgive me for being an ass. And missing the opportunity to show you what you really meant to me.”
A smile touched her lips—a strange feeling when they were discussing mistakes and the harder moments of their lives. But sharing them was freeing.
He dragged his thumb over her lower lip, stealing her smile but replacing it with burning need. The memory of his mouth bringing her to the pinnacle of ecstasy was too raw in her mind.
She clasped her hand. “I’m not sure what will happen, Beck, but I’m considering what you said to me.”
His nod was jerky. “That’s all a man can ask.”
Taking a chance, she rested her head on his shoulder, feeling that same rush of emotion for this big, hunky cowboy. Lust had driven their relationship in the beginning but since coming back here, Beck had been so good to her and Owen, there were many more layers.
“Thank you for letting me go on that job search today.”
“Any leads?”
She shook her head against his shoulder, and the scents of cotton and man filled her nose. “Nothing worth talking about.”
“Good. The night’s too pretty to talk about work. Let’s swing.”
* * * * *
Beck crept past Sabrina’s bedroom door as quietly as possible. Waking her and Owen wasn’t a good idea, even if everything in his being urged him to go inside and curl up with the two people he loved most.
A muffled cry sounded through the door. He strained to hear and caught a second noise.
Holding his breath, he opened the door and peeked into the room. Owen’s bed was in the glow cast by the nightlight. He kicked and his little arms waved.
Beck shot a look at the sleeping Sabrina. Lying on her side, hair covering her whole face, she was oblivious their son had awakened. Beck tiptoed across the room and picked up the baby.
Carrying the fuss-pot down the stairs, he wondered if he could get away with feeding him a bottle and putting him back to bed. He couldn’t exactly take him out to feed cows—Owen’s momma had made it quite clear how she felt about a baby on horseback.
“What are you doing up so early, hmm?” he asked the baby as he fixed a bottle.
Owen rubbed his fists into his eyes then opened his mouth wide as if to bellow. Beck shoved the nipple in his mouth and he clamped his lips around it, sucking greedily.
“I thought I heard a baby.” Momma’s throaty voice sounded from the doorway. She shuffled into the kitchen, hair sticking up and robe tied haphazardly. She
made a flicking motion with her hands. “Give him to me. Go get your work done.”
“I can take care of him.”
His momma’s eyes had always had a way of piercing through Beck. Suddenly he felt ten years old again. “I know you can. You’re doing well, son.”
A long sigh trickled from him. “That’s good to hear. I feel like I’m on the back of a bull, bucking my way across a field.”
Owen clasped his ears and closed his eyes, taking long, sucking pulls on the bottle.
Momma’s brow crinkled as she observed the baby. “That’s parenting for you. I think if you settle your business with Sabrina, you’ll feel better about your role as a father.”
Beck jerked his gaze to hers. “You and Pa haven’t said much about it.”
“We try to stay out of your personal life, but I see your struggle and it’s time to intervene.”
“Speak your piece then.” He held his breath, praying she didn’t say Sabrina was all wrong and working out child visitation was the best course. Beck couldn’t live with those things.
Momma cleared the sleep from her throat. “Marry her, Beck. You love her.”
His throat tightened. “I do.”
“Don’t dawdle. Love is the power between you—and this child is the glue binding you. Do what’s right and everything else will fall into place. Look, he’s nearly asleep again. Give him to me and get into the field.”
Gently Beck placed Owen in his mother’s arms. He bent to brush a kiss over her cheek. “Thanks, Momma.”
“You’re welcome, son.”
“Is it too much to ask for omelets for breakfast?”
“Pfff. I’m giving advice before dawn and now you’re asking for omelets? Don’t press your luck.”
* * * * *
Sabrina woke to shrieks. She leaped out of bed before her eyes even opened. Adrenaline surged through her system. She’d never heard screams like these.
Owen was in pain.
She grabbed him from the bed and looked him all over. He bowed his back and stiffened his legs. Then he tugged his ear and understanding dawned on her.
Someone knocked on the door then it opened. Relief filled Sabrina’s veins to see Maggie. “I think it’s his ears.”
“I wondered about that when Beck had him downstairs earlier. Come with me.” She disappeared.
What? Beck had Owen up this morning? How had Sabrina managed to sleep through him coming into the room and Owen being awake? Guilt clouded her mind as she followed Maggie down to the kitchen.
The woman was rummaging through a metal box with a lid. She held up a little bottle of red liquid with a dropper. “Charlotte left this here after Hank Jr.’s last ear infection. You could dose Owen and then take him to the doctor in Vixen.”
An hour away. Yes, she couldn’t have Owen in terrible pain, screaming for a whole hour in the car. Sabrina switched him to one arm while she fumbled with the medicine dropper.
He spit the pain reliever out and geared up for another shriek. She looked up at Maggie. “Do I try again?”
“Let’s try some warm milk. Sometimes sucking helps ear pain. Why don’t you get dressed so you’re ready to put him in the car?”
Flustered, she handed Owen to his grandmother and shot up the stairs. She’d handled everything alone before now, but somehow losing her job, her home and her life left her feeling needy. In her old town she would have run down the street to the urgent care. No big deal. But out here, they were so isolated.
Another reason to move.
She threw on jeans and a clean top. When she ran downstairs, the kitchen was quiet, Owen’s cries silenced.
“Oh thank God.”
“The pain isn’t gone and he can only drink so much before he pops like a tick. Are you okay to drive him alone?”
“Of course. After he finishes his bottle, we’ll go.”
She threw a look at the window. Judging by the sun’s position, it was nearly time for second breakfast. While Maggie cuddled Owen and held his bottle, Sabrina threw together breakfast. The sausage patties were still frying when Owen’s wails sounded once more.
“I’ll take over the sausage. You get to town.”
Sabrina placed a hat on Owen’s head, wrapped him in a blanket and hurried to the car. Then she realized the baby seat was still in Beck’s truck. “Dammit.”
She jogged to the truck and peered inside. Old habits died hard—he’d left his keys in the ignition again.
She fastened Owen into the seat and climbed behind the wheel. This time when she saw the ranch in the rearview mirror, a pang of despair left her. Leaving this place would cut her deeply, but she’d do whatever was best for Owen.
* * * * *
“Where’s my omelet?” Beck stomped to the sink and let the water flood over his hands.
Momma turned from the stove. “No omelets today. Sausage and scrambled eggs.”
“I knew I was your least favorite son.” His tease fell flat as he spotted Momma’s expression. “What’s wrong?”
“Owen might have an ear infection. Sabrina’s rushed him to the doctor.”
“What?” He swiveled to the window. “Her car’s out there.”
Realization spread through his mind, as thick as honey. “The baby seat was in my truck. She must have taken it. Damn.” He doffed his hat and ran his fingers through his hair. “This is all my fault. I keep forgetting to put a hat on him.”
“Oh Beck, it’s not your fault. We don’t even know if it’s his ears. It could be teething or a mild cold.”
He pressed his lips together and stared at his boots. She hadn’t tried to find him to go along to Vixen. Maybe she didn’t want him there or felt he was still too unreliable.
“Sit down and eat your breakfast, son.”
The others came in and washed up. Then their pretty little wives took seats around the table. Beck could barely stomach the good food. There was a hole in the house without Owen and Sabrina.
“Hoof rot’s clearing up with this drier weather,” Pa said to no one in particular.
Cash took up the conversation with a word or two from the other brothers. Beck was glad they were all around the table today—he couldn’t concentrate on hoof rot when his son and the woman he loved possibly needed him.
“I might go into Vixen,” he said.
Everyone looked up.
“You’ll probably pass Sabrina on the way. Wait it out, Beck. Owen will be fine,” Momma said.
He racked his brain. Was his gas tank filled? If he’d sent her an hour away on fumes, he’d never forgive himself. They could be stranded right now. Maybe he was still an ass.
“Damn.” He climbed off the bench and carried his plate to the trash.
“Put your plate on the counter. I’ll feed it to the dogs,” Momma called.
Without a word he set the plate down and walked out of the house. For what felt like hours he tinkered close to home, mucking out the chicken coop and fixing a horseshoe. All the while he thought about Sabrina and his son and how vulnerable they were.
He either needed to let her go or marry her as Momma had said.
The former thought didn’t sit well with him, which meant he’d better head into a city and buy a ring as soon as possible.
With his heart made a little lighter by his decision, he grabbed a pitchfork and headed to the barn.
The holler traveled on the air currents, speared Beck’s brain and raised all the hair on his body. He ran out of the barn to see Momma waving from the front door.
He took off running, leaped the stairs. Momma thrust the phone into his hand and ice filled his veins.
“Sabrina?”
“Beck, it’s bad and I took your truck and I need you. Owen’s sick. They’re talking meningitis and spinal taps. I’m so terrified. Please come!”
Her voice shook. Every word inspired more dread in him. “I’ll be there in forty minutes.”
“It’s an hour drive.”
“Forty minutes, Sabrina. Don’t panic. I�
�m coming.”
Feeling the blood drain from his face, he handed his mother the phone. She pressed a hand to her chest, tears filling her eyes. “I heard her. Go, son. Take your father’s truck.”
With a jerky nod, he jumped off the porch and hit the ground running. His family needed him.
* * * * *
Sabrina twisted the tissue until it was shredded heap on her lap. She got up and paced to the trash can then grabbed a few more tissues.
She mopped her trickling eyes and went up to the nurse’s station again. “Any news about my son?”
After asking a dozen times in an hour, they knew who she was. The nurse gave a sympathetic smile and shook her head. “The doctor’s still in with him. I’ll let you know the minute I hear something.”
“Thank you.” Her voice trembled and she turned away before she broke down again. Meningitis was serious, and not something this small-town hospital could deal with in an infant. Owen would need transferred to the nearest children’s hospital.
His fever had spiked on the drive and his screams had shaken the windows. By the time Sabrina had removed him from the baby seat, she was a shaking mess. Then she’d felt how scorching hot he was and terror had zipped through her nerves.
Her heart slammed her ribs and she pressed a hand to it. She paced to the window and looked into the parking lot for sign of Beck for the umpteenth time. Forty minutes, he’d said. He’d have to drive like a madman to cut twenty minutes off the trip.
Thank God he’d been close to home when she’d called. He might have been in the field, far from communication. He’d been there for her and Owen. He was coming.
Dabbing her eyes, she turned from the window.
“Ms. Myers? Would you like to see your son?” the nurse asked.
She jerked. “Yes!”
The minute she went behind the curtain separating her from Owen, she wished for Beck. Whatever was wrong with Owen, they’d face it together.
Her son lay in a crib, hooked up to monitors. Beyond the tubes and wires was simply a sleeping baby. Her heart struck her ribs and she released a low sob.
When she placed a hand on his belly, he didn’t feel as hot. “His fever’s broken?”