by Deb Kastner
He’d let down his best friend. Again.
He was so not good at processing emotional stuff, and here he was with the self-charged duty of protecting a pregnant woman with all kinds of wacky hormones raging through her. How much more electric and supercharged could this situation be?
Over Laney’s shoulder, Slade saw motion and realized the group of silly teenage girls who’d been watching him were still around, gawking at the two of them and gossiping amongst themselves.
Not cool. One sharp look and a jerk of his head sent the young ladies scurrying for another place to prattle. Probably wouldn’t stop the gossip, but he didn’t give a fig about that. Folks could say what they wanted. No never mind to him, and hopefully not to Laney, either. She’d been through too much to succumb to wagging tongues.
With the girls gone, he returned his attention to Laney. She couldn’t even look him in the eye. She sniffled again, and before he knew what was happening, she wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her face in his chest. She gripped him as if she were afraid if she let go he would disappear, and soon her whole body was quivering. He realized she was sobbing, quietly muffled by the fabric of his shirt.
Whoa. He totally hadn’t expected that reaction.
He stood frozen for probably longer than he should have before he wrapped his arms around her and brushed his palm lightly over her back. How was he supposed to deal with a crying female? He felt gangly and awkward, especially with the baby bump between them.
What had happened to the smooth-talking man who knew just how to handle the ladies, what to say to keep them happy? Slade wanted to cheer Laney up, but that part of his character had decided to desert him at the worst possible moment.
“It’s going to be all right, princess,” he murmured close to her ear.
“It’s never going to be all right.” She leaned back enough to meet his gaze, though she didn’t immediately remove herself from his arms. Her eyes were glassy, but he was relieved to see the spark was back. “And don’t call me princess.”
Slade took that to mean their moment—or whatever it was—was over. “No offense intended.”
She stared up at him for a beat, taking his measure, and then shrugged out of his arms. He wished she’d say something, even if it was to yell at him for his stupidity in bringing her out here, but she didn’t say a word. The air thickened between them, ripe with tension.
She was clearly waiting for something.
Like what? For him to beg her forgiveness? Maybe grovel a little bit?
He knew he was at fault, but begging wasn’t going to happen. He was too proud to grovel. Still, he supposed an apology of some sort was in order. She deserved that much, at least. Slade knew what Brody would have done at this moment. He would have shoved Slade forward and reminded him what a lug he could be. And he would have made him apologize.
Slade swept his hat off his head and cleared his throat.
“Um—sorry.” He didn’t even sound like himself. His voice had come out high and squeaky, and he cringed.
Words. Not his forte.
Her gaze widened. “Sorry? That’s it? That’s all I’m going to get? You scare ten years off my life and that’s all you’re going to give me? Sorry?”
“What else do you want from me?” The muscles in his shoulders tightened and he fought the temptation to turn and walk away.
Laney had the unique ability to set him on edge. She had when he’d first known her—when she’d first started taking up all of Brody’s time and attention—and she did now. The woman couldn’t even accept an apology when it was earnestly offered.
“For starters, why don’t you try and explain to me what you were doing up on that bull in the first place.”
He jammed his hat back on his head and pulled it low over his furrowed brow to shade his eyes both from the glare of the sun and from the glare of the woman beside him.
“I’m a bull rider.” He would have thought that part would have been obvious. What did she expect of him?
She frowned. “All guts and glory and absolutely no sense whatsoever. Tell me something I don’t know.”
Well, at least she thought he had guts.
“Serendipity’s annual town rodeo is coming up in a month and a half. I have every intention of winning the purse.” He paused. “For you and for Brody’s kid.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I don’t need your money, and I certainly don’t want to be responsible, even indirectly, for you putting yourself at the risk of breaking something just for a few dollars.”
“I’m not going to break anything,” he assured her, but then he took a mental step backward. His confidence had been shaken after Brody’s death. Slade and Brody had both attacked bull riding with the typical arrogance and self-assurance of young men years before. No one could touch them and nothing could hurt them.
But something had. A bull called Night Terror. Brody had been at least as skilled in the arena as Slade was, and it hadn’t helped him.
Accidents happened. People died. Good people. The best.
Slade couldn’t assure Laney of anything. Not really.
But neither could he not follow through with his plan, though he wasn’t sure he’d be able to explain his reasoning to Laney. In fact, he was pretty certain he couldn’t. It was more a gut feeling of somehow setting things to right rather than anything he could express in words. Only that it was something he needed to do.
“It’s to honor Brody’s memory.”
“I think he’d rather you honor him by staying al—uh—in one piece.”
Slade withheld a grimace. He knew he was dredging up all kinds of horrible memories. This might not be the best time to mention that not only was he going to ride in the rodeo, but he hoped beyond hope he would pull Night Terror. He had something to prove.
She cocked a brow and stared at him until he was certain she was reading every thought in his head. He broke his gaze away from her. There was nothing more unnerving than the thought of a woman in his head, especially Laney. He still wasn’t completely convinced she hadn’t messed with Brody’s heart and mind, confused him and wanted him to change his entire life for her.
No, thank you. That was not for him. He’d stay in the shallow end of the relationship pool, even if it felt a little less than satisfying.
And what she didn’t know about the rodeo wouldn’t hurt her, right?
Because despite all the tussles they had with each other, especially recently, Laney did have one redeeming quality Slade couldn’t quite overlook.
She had loved Brody. Despite everything, she’d loved Brody.
And she carried a great deal of strength in her heart. He hadn’t known that back then, when he may not have been the best influence on Brody, but he knew it now. Not many women would pack up and move their whole life to a strange town to live with in-laws she barely knew. Wouldn’t it have been easier for her to remain with her sister, where Slade had been given to understand she’d been living before she arrived at the Becketts’?
She wasn’t taking the easy way out. She wasn’t thinking only of herself. She was thinking of her baby—of Brody’s baby. Slade had to respect her for that, at least. Nothing she’d gone through in recent months could have been comfortable for her.
He gave her credit, but he still didn’t trust her. Once upon a time she’d gotten into Brody’s head and turned him all around, trying to change him, to make him into something he was not. Who was to say she wouldn’t try the same thing with him? It was a fine line to walk, needing her to trust him and allow him to be part of Baby Beckett’s life without giving too much of himself away in the process.
“Is there someplace we can go that’s a little more conducive to conversation than standing outside a stable?” She picked at her hand, which was swollen and red from the tiny pieces of wood she must
have picked up on the corral fence.
Slade inwardly cringed at the reminder that he’d been the one to bring her here. He’d been the one to thoughtlessly tear open wounds which had barely begun to heal.
“We could grab a coffee at Cup O’ Jo’s Café,” he suggested. “My treat.”
It seemed like the least he could do, given the events of the day.
Her gaze met his and she shook her head. “I don’t think—”
“I’ll even spring for dessert.” He couldn’t let her finish her statement. Not if it meant she was going to say no to him. He shouldn’t be surprised that she wouldn’t want to be seen with him in public. She’d probably picked up on those silly teenagers and their giggling. Not good. He didn’t know why it was suddenly so important that she accept his offer. Maybe it was just a jab to his ego. He wasn’t used to being turned down for a date.
Not a date.
Whatever was the opposite of a date. That’s what this was. Frankly, he’d be surprised if the two of them could keep from bickering for the length of time it took them to consume a cup of coffee. They seemed to have developed a process, their way of working things out between each other, and it wasn’t anything he’d want to air in public, picking at each other like a couple of bantam hens. He reminded himself to be on his best behavior. He didn’t want Laney’s dignity, not to mention his own, to take a hit.
Slow. Slightly unsteady. Often uncomfortable. Sometimes painful. That’s how it seemed to be between them.
Laney appeared to be reconsidering, or at least she hadn’t barked out an immediate rejection. “Well, if you’re throwing in chocolate.”
He grinned, feeling as if he’d just won, if not the purse, then at least a ride.
“But only because Baby Beckett has a craving.”
She was distancing herself from him again, but he’d take what he could get. “Glad to be of service.”
Cup O’ Jo’s was only a block and a half away from the stable. Laney insisted they walk. She had kept herself in very good shape for a seriously pregnant woman. As he recalled, she’d always been slim, with just the right amount of curves. Her baby bump simply added one more. But even if she was in the best shape of her life, Slade wasn’t entirely convinced she ought to be straining herself, as far along as she was.
He focused on keeping his own stride short and his pace slow. Their walk was made in an uneasy silence. He didn’t want to bring up anything that might send them down the path of a serious conversation, even about the ranching business—not when he knew they’d be interrupted the moment they walked into the café. He didn’t want to get into it and then have to drop it—whatever it was.
He’d never been good at making small talk. Thankfully, Laney didn’t seem to mind the silence, though it hung over Slade like a rain cloud. With his concentrating on keeping their walk to a painfully slow pace, it felt like forever before they reached the café, though it had probably been only a few minutes.
“I’m going to go use the facilities to wash up,” he said as they entered Cup O’ Jo’s. “I smell like cattle.”
“Yes. Yes you do,” Laney said with a smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes.
She didn’t have to agree with him.
“Shoo, cowboy.” Jo Spencer, the vivacious old redhead who owned the café, bobbed up to them and immediately took over the conversation. “Go clean yourself up and I’ll seat this pretty lady. Laney, isn’t it?”
Laney’s gaze widened and Slade interpreted the surprised glance she flashed him as a moment of panic.
Once again he hadn’t thought all the way through his actions. He hadn’t considered the café scenario any more than he’d worked the bull-riding situation to its logical end. Laney was Brody’s widow, and pregnant, to boot. Even though Slade knew his neighbors were the best kind of folks, they were bound to talk about her. If Laney wasn’t used to small-town living, then how would she feel when a complete stranger knew her name?
He needed to reassure her that all was well, and so he threw what he hoped looked like a friendly arm over her shoulder and drew her toward him so he could speak to her without being overheard. He was happy for the blaring fifties music and the hum of the crowd that helped drown out his words.
“Don’t worry, princess. Jo may come off as a little domineering, invading your personal space and all, but she’s harmless enough. She makes it her business to know everything about everyone. Super nice, though. You won’t find a better person in the whole town.”
She clearly hadn’t anticipated his move and braced her hand on his chest to catch her balance, and then stood on tiptoe so she could whisper back to him.
“Jo’s not the domineering one in this scenario.” Her eyes were blazing and he realized once again he hadn’t given her enough credit. Brody might not even have realized it during his whirlwind romance with the woman, but Laney was as strong as they came. Little minx was a regular spitfire.
He bent his head when she tugged on his shirt, apparently not quite finished with what she had to say.
“And don’t call me princess.”
* * *
Laney guessed from the way the voices of the patrons in the café tapered off and then swelled again that she was the new topic of conversation in the room, but it didn’t really bother her. She didn’t feel particularly self-conscious, especially after several people, including the cook and his wife, came by her table to introduce themselves. Everyone was so friendly and welcoming.
She didn’t know what Slade had been worried about. There was a moment’s hesitation when she wondered if the story of Brody’s rocky marriage had been tossed about town, but if it had been, she couldn’t tell. No one treated her any differently.
She’d seen most, if not all, of these people at Brody’s funeral, but she’d been so physically and emotionally ill at that point that most of her memories were a blur. Then she’d left straight afterward for her sister’s, and so had never had the opportunity to put names with faces. Now that she would be living here, she was anxious to get to know her neighbors and make new friends.
“Better?” Slade asked as he slid into the vinyl booth opposite her.
“You or me?”
“Well, I meant me and my rodeo dirt, but it’s fine if you want to talk about yourself instead.” He arched his eyebrows suggestively, and she wondered if the man even knew how to relate to a woman outside of flirting. Or fighting. He leaned his arm across the back of the booth and his biceps flexed with the motion. Was that a practiced move?
“Absolutely not.” She didn’t even have to think about that answer. “I do not want to talk about me.”
She wasn’t at all inclined to lead the conversation her direction, except... Her contrary heart wanted answers for the one thing that had been bothering her ever since she and Slade had become reacquainted.
He was silent and watching her intently.
“There is one thing—”
She paused as Jo poured decaf coffee for them and served them each a huge slice of warm peach pie à la mode. Laney tested the coffee against her lips as she considered how to phrase her question. Her curiosity was going to get the best of her, although the truth might be more painful than she imagined. Maybe it was because of her emotional state with her pregnancy and all, but she was seeking some kind of reassurance about her relationship with Brody, that it hadn’t all been for nothing. Unfortunately, only Slade could give her that information.
“I’d like to hear about you and Brody.” She figured she’d start there and try to lead the conversation in the direction she desired.
Slade’s eyes were an electric blue and sparks were flying. His jaw tightened and his biceps rippled with strain. “What do you want to know?”
What had she said that had put him on the defensive? He looked as if he was ready to come out fighting.
>
“Other than Grant and Carol, whom I came clean with when I moved to Serendipity, you’re the only one who knows the story—the whole story.”
“What?”
“That Brody and I were separated. That there was a reason we weren’t living together as man and wife at the time of his death. But even I don’t know the rest of it. Why he never brought me home. Not once. He was keeping me a secret from his family. His friends. The town. And I want to know why.”
She’d just told him she didn’t want to talk about herself and then she’d plunged right into the deep end, exposing her most personal and vulnerable side.
And to think she intended the original question to be about how Slade and Brody had started riding bulls and how long they’d been doing it. Instead...
“You think he didn’t bring you home because he was ashamed of you?” Slade looked and sounded stunned.
“Wasn’t he?” She tried to keep the bitterness from her tone but knew she wasn’t entirely successful in her endeavor. And she’d completely ruined any chance she had of gently leading the conversation the way she’d intended it to go. She wasn’t talking about Brody and Slade at all. She’d already managed to bring it right around to the strained subject of her marriage to Brody, which had very little to do with Slade at all.
“No.” Slade leaned forward on his elbows. “Whatever else you might think about Brody, he was in love with you. Always.”
“Then, why?”
He raised his eyebrows at the question as if he didn’t understand what she was asking.
“You know what I’m talking about. He put me up in an apartment in Houston, like he didn’t want anyone to know about me. He didn’t even stay with me most of the time. He was either doing police work here in Serendipity or fooling around on the local rodeo circuit.”
Slade winced. She’d definitely hit home.
“What did he tell you about where he was?” he asked, his voice husky.
“Not much. Only that he was working toward getting us somewhere permanent to stay before he brought me here. That it was supposed to be a surprise for me. But none of that was true, was it? We both know he already had a home in Serendipity. And he was never going to bring me there.”