The Baby Trail (Baby Bonds #2)

by Karen Rose Smith

  “I really can’t think about that now. I sold the TV,” she said, her hand fluttering toward the place where the screen had once hung. “I’m using that for expenses. I listed the mechanical bull on eBay and I’m hoping I’ll get a good price on it. If I can sell that, it will help me pay the back taxes. The cattle won’t bring in enough this year.”

  “Maybe I can take my vacation after the baby’s born and come out here and help you,” Gwen offered.

  Kylie’s eyes misted with tears and she brushed them away. “Thank you, but we’ll wait and see. If I get a few more horses to board that could make up for the training money I’m losing while I’m pregnant. I can’t risk a fall with this baby to think about.”

  “You still have a stockpile of quilts. You could sell more of those.”

  “I sold a few to buy Feather and to use for vet bills. I’m saving the others for emergencies.”

  One of Kylie’s quilt designs hung on the wall along with photo collages of the Warner family and a…dream catcher. Gwen hadn’t seen that before.

  Taking out a tissue and blowing her nose, Kylie re-pocketed it in her jeans. “So how’s your FBI agent working out?” she asked, obviously tired of being the center of attention.

  “That’s a good question,” Gwen joked. “I haven’t heard from him since Monday and I don’t know if he’s made more progress. I left a message yesterday but he hasn’t returned my call.”

  “And you’re not going to stand for that,” Shaye said with a smile.

  Gwen laughed. “Actually, no, I’m not. I think I’m going to drive out there tonight after I drop you off.”

  “We know you don’t let grass grow under your feet,” Kylie teased.

  No, she didn’t. Tonight she’d be seeing Garrett Maxwell whether he was ready to see her again or not.

  Gwen was hopeful when she spied a small light burning in Garrett’s loft. It had to be the loft from the way the first floor looked simply fuzzy with light. She supposed he could leave it on when he was away. Did men care about walking into a dark house? Maybe if she could understand questions like that, she could understand men.

  She obviously hadn’t understood Mark or she would have seen the signs that he was going to cut and run. The problem was—she’d had a lot of people cut and run from her, without any signs.

  Casting those thoughts aside, she stepped onto the porch and rang the bell. A few moments later she rang it again.

  Suddenly there Garrett was—rumpled, hair tousled, shirt open down the front. He looked as if he’d been…sleeping? The stubble of his beard told her he hadn’t even shaved today.

  At a loss for words, she just stood there and stared.

  “I fell asleep on the couch.”

  Although he might have been asleep when she rang the bell, he was fully alert now.

  “I…uh…you didn’t return my calls.”

  He ran his hand over his face. “I was going to. I got back from a search and rescue around six. I intended to rest on the sofa for a couple minutes, but…” He checked his watch with a luminescent dial. “I guess it’s more like hours than minutes. Come on in.”

  She’d been right about the light in the loft. The living room was hazy with shadows.

  When he strode to a side table, Gwen noticed his feet were bare. He switched on the wrought-iron based lamp. A yellow glow splashed over the rust-colored leather sofa where a wool throw was twisted into a ball.

  Opening her suede jacket, but leaving it on, she sat in the nubby-textured recliner. “Where were you searching?”

  “Near Yellowstone. A boy camping with his family. We found him late this afternoon.”

  “He’s all right?”

  “Shaken up, thirsty and hungry, but he was okay. He’d been missing twenty-four hours and his parents were crazy with worry.” Garrett’s fingers went to his jawline. “That’s why I look like I just stepped out of the wilderness.”

  He looked exactly like that and so sexy her stomach was jumping all over the place. Deciding honesty was the best policy, especially with Garrett, she admitted, “I’m sorry I bothered you. But when you didn’t answer my calls, I thought you were avoiding me.”

  “I was,” he answered tersely. “I didn’t have any news about Amy’s mother, and after that kiss, I knew things would be strained between us.”

  She wasn’t sure what she was feeling was “strain.” It was more like a humming that affected her whole body. The question was—did Garrett feel the humming, too? But even if he did, he wasn’t the type of man she wanted to get involved with. She wanted an open book. She wanted someone who could share and communicate and be affectionate and not hide his innermost thoughts. She suspected this man had a lot of practice hiding feelings, thoughts, and maybe even who he was.

  “Whether there’s a strain between us or not, I need to know if you made any progress,” she assured him.

  He was still standing and he seemed to debate with himself. “Why don’t you make yourself at home in my kitchen. There’s hot chocolate in one of the canisters beside the mugs. I’ll get a quick shower, then we can talk. Unless you don’t have time.”

  “I have time,” she said softly, eager to hear what Garrett had to say, eager to get to know just a little bit more about him…just a little bit more.

  Ten minutes later Garrett was back downstairs, picking up the mug of hot chocolate she’d prepared for him. “Thanks,” he said, a half smile curving his lips. With his damp, wavy hair and in his tan knit shirt and jeans, she wanted to dive into his arms. She had to get a grip.

  Taking their mugs into the living room, he tossed aside the throw and sank down beside her on the sofa. The humming was definitely still there.

  After he set his mug on the coffee table, he leaned back. “I did find out some information. Not enough to move on, though, yet. I sent the yarn to a fiber specialist to be analyzed and identified. I’ve made contacts who owe me,” he explained. “The good news is—only one store in Wyoming ordered it…in Laramie. The bad news is—the owner of that store is overhauling her computer system and it won’t be up and running again until next week. She’s going to e-mail me when she finds the names of the purchasers.”

  In spite of herself, Gwen had been hoping for more. “Meantime, Amy might be placed with a family. Shaye is having an interview tomorrow with a couple.”

  Gwen had taken off her jacket in the kitchen and left it over a chair. Now her shoulder was almost brushing Garrett’s. Neither of them moved away from the close contact.

  When he shifted toward her, his body tensed. “This isn’t science, Gwen. Sometimes I have to count on sheer luck. The best situation for that child might be to place her with a couple.”

  “I know that. It’s just—”

  “You identify with this baby,” he suggested gently. “Your birth parents abandoned you, and from what your father said, I gathered your adopted mother did, too.”

  “She didn’t abandon me, exactly. She left me with my father.”

  “She didn’t take you along, and that’s what a mother should do. When my parents divorced, I was old enough to make a choice. I decided to go to California with my dad. But at six, I imagine you wanted to be with your mother.”

  “What Dad and I wanted didn’t matter. All that mattered to her was the new man she fell in love with.”

  “Your dad said she moved to Indiana.” Again his voice was quiet, almost kind.

  “Peter, her new husband, had family there. They decided a fresh start was best for everybody. But it wasn’t. The night she left, Dad started drinking and didn’t stop until three years ago.”

  “Whatever happened three years ago must have been earth shattering to him if he stopped.” Garrett’s interested statement urged her to go on.

  “I’d never realized it, but all those years I took care of him, I was enabling him. Shaye and Kylie encouraged me to get counseling, so I finally went to a few Al-Anon meetings. I learned I had to change as much as he did. So, I did my own intervention of
sorts. I told Dad I was moving out and buying a house and he was going to have to take care of his own bills. That meant he had to work regularly. He’d been an accountant up until then. He just took on work when he felt like it, or when he needed the money. I don’t think he thought I was serious until I put a contract on a house, packed my things and then moved out. I had a neighbor check on him and for about a week, he drank even more. Then he checked himself into the rehab program at the hospital and started going to AA meetings. All those years he drank, he’d stop now and then for a few weeks at a time, but then he’d pick up the bottle again. So now, I hold my breath and hope for the best. But I guess I’m always preparing myself for the worst.”

  “You did the right thing—making him responsible for his own life.”

  There was admiration in Garrett’s voice. Kylie and Shaye had supported her through it all, but in the dead of night when she worried about her father, she felt alone. “I was so scared when I told him I was moving out. Afterward, I think my dad actually respected me more. The problem is with all those years of me taking up the slack between us, I think he knows I don’t trust him to stay sober. We have surface conversation and walk on eggshells a lot of the time.”

  “Do you hear from your adoptive mother?”

  “I get a Christmas card once a year,” she said lightly as if it didn’t hurt that her own mother didn’t send letters or birthday cards. Except it wasn’t her own mother. It was her adoptive mother.

  “If I ever become a mom,” Gwen murmured fiercely, “my child will know she’s loved every minute of the day, every day of the year, for as long as she and I live. Even longer if I have anything to say about it.”

  When she looked into Garrett’s eyes, she saw compassion there and it made her want to cry. She didn’t cry. She hadn’t cried much since she was six and her mother had left.

  “I don’t know why I told you all of this. I didn’t mean to bend your ear.”

  “I have one to spare,” he replied with a straight face and then smiled.

  “You’re a good listener. I guess you have to be to catch criminals.”

  He didn’t comment.

  “Right. That subject’s off-limits. I guess I found out what I came here to find out.” She knew she should stand, put on her jacket and leave. But she liked feeling Garrett’s body heat. She liked the after-shower scent of soap and man. She liked the way he listened.

  “You will call me when you get that e-mail?” she asked.

  “I’ll call you.” He was silent for a while and the shadows in the room seemed to grow more intimate. All she could hear was the hum of the refrigerator, the creak of the house losing its heat from the day.

  Suddenly he said, “There’s a barn dance Saturday night on the Wilkins ranch. We’re raising money to build an addition for the elementary school.”

  “You’re involved in that?” He had the reputation for being a lone wolf, but there were causes he seemed to care passionately about.

  “I’m giving a donation and that got me two tickets. If you have something better to do, that’s fine.”

  He was making it sound as if it didn’t matter if she said yes or not. “I’d like to go, but I don’t remember how to square dance. I guess you do?”

  “All you have to do is learn a few moves and you’ll be fine. Are you good at following directions?”

  “That depends,” she drawled.

  He chuckled, “On whether or not you want to follow the directions. That’s all square dancing is—following calls. They can come fast but pretty soon you’ll catch on.”

  “Is this a date?” she asked lightly.

  With a frown, he answered, “I’d rather not categorize it, but I’ll pick you up and take you home.” Then he put one knuckle under her chin and lifted it so she looked at him.

  Was he going to kiss her again?

  As his gaze roved over her face, she anticipated the feel of his lips, the stroke of his tongue, his calloused skin against hers. But he didn’t kiss her. He dropped his hand and moved away.

  Gwen told herself Saturday night might not be a date, but if she wasn’t careful, it could be a disaster.

  Chapter Four

  Garrett had never intended to attend the barn dance. He’d certainly never intended to bring a date!

  Yet here he was, spruced up in a brand new pair of black jeans, gray snap-button shirt and bolo tie, acting as if taking a woman to a dance was a common occurrence. Parked in a mown field with rows of other cars, he climbed out of his SUV and went around to Gwen’s side. The sky was awash with orange and purple as the sun bobbed over the Painted Peaks.

  Gwen had already opened her door when he got there, and he held out his hand to help her step down. She was wearing a denim dress with a hem trimmed in yellow-and-red flowers. She’d thrown a red shawl around her shoulders. He’d always heard redheads shouldn’t wear red, but then she wasn’t exactly a redhead. Her hair was a coppery color that was too rich to come out of a bottle.

  Although Gwen settled her hand in his, she didn’t step down right away. “Are you sure you want to do this? You didn’t say a word on the drive over here. Maybe you regret asking me to come along?”

  One thing he knew about Gwen Langworthy, she said what was on her mind. Maybe she could read minds, too.

  “I invited you to come tonight. Why wouldn’t I want to be here?”

  “I don’t know. Why wouldn’t you?” she returned.

  “Maybe because I usually stay somewhat removed from the community and I don’t know many people.”

  “You’re a recluse?” she teased with a smile so exciting he was tempted to kiss her again and damn the consequences.

  “Not exactly a recluse. I go into town when I need supplies or services. Or when someone needs me. The truth is, when I worked for the FBI, I had my fill of all kinds of people. When I came back here, I just wanted peace and quiet.”

  Her pretty brows drew together as if she was trying again to decipher his motive. “A barn dance is not going to be peaceful or quiet.”

  Suddenly he realized that didn’t bother him tonight. “No, it’s not, but it’ll give me a good chance to brush up on my manners and social skills,” he joked, feeling in a lighter mood than he’d experienced since before his marriage had ended. Suddenly in spite of his doubts about bringing Gwen, he decided he was looking forward to the evening.

  Laughing, Gwen stepped down from the SUV, her hand small in his.

  He reluctantly released it.

  After he locked the vehicle, they strolled toward the huge red barn. A floodlight glowed over the wide double doors. Juniper and spruce grew around the foundation. Clumps of people stood outside and the twangy sound of a band tuning up soared from the interior.

  Garrett found himself taking Gwen’s elbow over the uneven ground. To keep her safe or to simply touch her again? When she looked up at him, he muttered, “I don’t want you to trip or turn an ankle.”

  The fringe of her shawl brushed over his hand, and her skin was warm under his fingertips. Breathing in her perfume, that fruity and floral mix, an erection pressed against his fly. Damn.

  When they reached the gravel path leading to the barn, he dropped his hand. As long as they just do-si-doed and didn’t get too close, his self-control would work just fine.

  Gwen seemed to know everyone in Wild Horse Junction. Every two feet, somebody stopped her to say hello.

  “You must get around,” he murmured close to her ear as they wound around a few hay bales stacked for lounging and pure atmosphere.

  “Get around?” Her brown eyes were soft and puzzled as she stopped to face him.

  “You know everybody.”

  With a small shrug, she smiled. “That comes from dealing with pregnant women. I meet their husbands and their families. If I help deliver a baby, they always introduce me to all their relatives.”

  “How many patients do you see in a week?”

  “Fifty, maybe. It depends. Some weeks I do more home health ca
re than others, and then I’m not in the office as much.”

  “Do you like what you do?”

  “I love it. I help bring life into this world. What better job could I have?”

  Gwen’s optimistic outlook intrigued him. Where had she gotten it? With all he knew about her background, she had every excuse to see her glass half-empty. Yet she seemed genuinely satisfied with her life.

  Tables were set up around the periphery of the barn with folding chairs. A wide open area had been left in front of the stage where the dancing would take place.

  “Maybe we should grab a spot at a table before it gets too crowded,” he decided.

  They threaded their way along a row of tables. Suddenly a man stood and waved at them.

  “It’s my father.” Gwen sounded surprised.

  As they walked toward him, Garrett couldn’t tell if she was happy to see her dad or not.

  “We meet again,” Russ said to Garrett. “You sure do look pretty, honey.”

  “Thanks, Dad. I didn’t know you were coming.”

  “I was talking to Dorothy Otis at the post office—you know, she’s the postal clerk there. Anyway, we both decided we could use a night out. She’s supposed to meet me here.”

  “We won’t butt in then,” Gwen assured him quickly. “There are still plenty of seats at other tables.”

  “Don’t be silly. I’ve got a chair for her and there’s two more here. Get yourselves some cider and cookies and join me.”

  Gwen looked uncomfortable and Garrett had the feeling she didn’t want to sit with her father. There was definitely a strain between father and daughter, mostly on the daughter’s part.

  She was looking up at him now. “Do you mind if we sit here?”

  “One place is as good as another.”

  As Garrett pulled out a chair for Gwen, she glanced across the barn at the snack tables. Sliding her shawl from her shoulders, she folded it over a chair. “You go ahead and settle in. I’ll get us a plate of cookies and whatever else I can find.” Then she was on her way, disappearing into the crowds of people, waylaid almost immediately by a young pregnant woman.