Rogue's Reform

by Marilyn Pappano

  Stricken, she sank into the chair. “You have no right to do this,” she whispered.

  “That’s my baby!” he snapped. “I have every right!”

  Before she could do more than shake her head in dismay, the bell over the door rang. Because the radio wasn’t blaring, because she wasn’t dancing around in Ethan’s arms like a fool, she heard it, but even with advance warning, she couldn’t pull herself together. She couldn’t do much more than look when Guthrie Harris walked up to the counter.

  “Grace. Ethan.” He removed his Stetson and rested it crown-down on the counter. “I saw your truck out front when I dropped Liv and the girls off at the grocery store, so I thought I’d come by. We haven’t seen you around much lately.”

  Ethan sounded almost normal. “I’ve been keeping busy. I’m still painting over at Grace’s house, and I help out here some.”

  “You must have painted the whole house, judging by how late you’re there.”

  Ethan scowled at him. “I don’t pry into what you and Olivia do at night. It’s none of your business what I do.”

  Surprisingly, Guthrie didn’t take offense. “Liv’s about to pop that kid out any day now. We don’t do anything at night.” He hesitated, and when he spoke again, discomfort underscored his words. “Listen, can we go someplace and talk?”

  “We can talk here.”

  Guthrie glanced at her, and Grace automatically got to her feet. She eased past Ethan without touching him and went into the break room because it was the polite thing to do. It only created the illusion of privacy, though. If she faced the door, she could see them both. No matter which direction she faced, she could easily hear them.

  She took a bottle of water from the refrigerator and chose to face the wall while she drank it.

  “Listen, Ethan, I don’t want to pry into your business—”

  “Since when?”

  “But we’ve been hearing a lot of talk.”

  “Mama always said you shouldn’t listen to gossip.” Ethan sounded defensive, almost hostile, when Grace knew he didn’t feel that way. He just wanted Guthrie’s approval—and, in part thanks to her, he probably wasn’t going to get it any time soon.

  “Yeah, well, Mom liked a good bit of gossip as much as the next person,” Guthrie said dryly. “As long as it didn’t involve her family.”

  “I can’t help it if people have nothing better to do than talk about me,” Ethan said stiffly.

  “I don’t care if they talk about you. Hell, I was their favorite topic of conversation for a long time after Shay dumped me. They can talk about anybody in the county as long as it’s not my family or me.”

  Well, hell, Ethan thought with an ache strong and deep. That made it pretty damn clear where he stood in Guthrie’s life. He definitely wasn’t family any longer.

  “I just think I should find out a few things about your life from you and not from the gossip going around.”

  Ethan shrugged. “Ask whatever you want.”

  “All right.” But now that he had permission, Guthrie looked uncomfortable, as if he’d rather let the subject drop. “Are you living over at Grace’s?”

  For all practical purposes, but not officially. Most of his clothing was still in the closet at the cabin, along with all his personal belongings. He’d moved only the bare necessities to her house—a few clothes, toothbrush, razor—because they were living on a day-to-day basis. Every night he was prepared to go home and sleep alone until she let him know that he was welcome to stay. The next night he waited for another invitation.

  “I’ve been staying there,” he hedged.

  “Why?”

  Ethan glanced at the break room. Grace’s back was to him, but he had no doubt she could hear their conversation. He should have left with Guthrie when his brother had suggested it, should have at least stepped outside. Now he moved away from the counter and lowered his voice. “What kind of a question is that? She’s a beautiful woman. I’m a single man.”

  At the “beautiful” comment, Guthrie’s puzzled gaze shifted toward the break-room door. He was trying to envision Grace as beautiful, and failing. But what he thought of any woman in the world besides his own was irrelevant, less than pointless. “But she’s a pregnant single woman, and you’re…”

  Ethan didn’t prompt him, but waited silently, stiffly, to hear what his brother thought of him.

  Guthrie took the easy way out, changing the focus. “She’s not your type.”

  “You might think that,” Ethan agreed as he gazed out the dusty window that overlooked the parking lot. “But you’d be wrong.”

  “So you’re saying she is your type? That Ethan James, world-class heartbreaker at Heartbreak High, has suddenly developed an interest in very pregnant single women?” Guthrie shook his head emphatically. “Yeah, right. Unless…”

  The silence drew out, and Ethan waited, anger and hurt and disappointment building inside until he couldn’t wait one second longer. “Unless what?” he demanded. “I’m planning to rip her off? Maybe to con her out of her business, her house and her life savings? Because, after all, that’s what I do, isn’t it? I steal from people. I betray them. I take what I want and to hell with everyone else—”

  His voice calm but louder, firmer, Guthrie cut in. “Unless you’re the father of her baby.”

  Chapter 11

  Ethan was startled, so surprised that Guthrie wasn’t expecting the absolute worst from him that he had no answer to give. The first time he opened his mouth, nothing came out. The second time, he managed words, but the tone he meant to be brash and cocky was instead shaky. “Why—why would you think that?”

  Guthrie took a moment to drag his fingers through his hair, ruffling it where the band of his hat had flattened it. “It took me a while to notice the coincidence of the timing. Grace’s baby is due a month after Liv’s, which means she got pregnant at the beginning of July, when you were home. Now you’re back again, with ‘personal’ business to take care of, and from your first day back, you’ve been hanging around Grace. Now…we both know that you two weren’t friends when you were kids, and you’ve been away too long to have business of any kind here. You don’t have a thing for pregnant women, and you’ve never stayed with the same woman for two weeks in your life, so that leaves the baby. Is it yours?”

  Ethan glanced over his shoulder, but Grace was out of sight. If she was listening, she was surely sending fervent prayers his way that, in spite of his earlier words, he would keep his promise and lie. He’d done it once, and hated it, but he could do it again. He could betray two of the people most important to him. He could do it for Grace.

  With a sickly smile, he looked back at his brother. “You know me better than that, Guthrie. Don’t you think if I were the father I would stay—” he drew a deep breath “—I would stay hell and gone away—” despite his best efforts, the smile disappeared “—away from…”

  He couldn’t finish, not even for Grace. Staring out the window, he knotted his left hand into a fist and muttered, “I’m sorry. I can’t do this, not again.” Steeling himself for disappointment, for condemnation, he met his brother’s gaze and said flatly, “Yes, it’s my baby. I came home as soon as I found out.”

  But there wasn’t any disappointment. No condemnation. Guthrie’s gaze remained steady, curious, nothing else. “What are you planning to do about it?”

  “What makes you think I have any say in what I do about it?” He glanced toward the break room again and rubbed an ache pounding in his temple. “Life wasn’t real easy for Grace, having her mother run off when she was just a kid and her father being such a bastard. It wasn’t much fun being Jed Prescott’s poor, pitiful daughter.”

  “Probably not much more fun than being Gordon James’s charming, delinquent son.”

  Ethan gave him a long, wary look. He couldn’t recall Guthrie ever acknowledging that he might have had anything to live down when he was growing up. His older brother had always been a black-and-white, no-excuses sort of
guy. You took responsibility for your own actions. You didn’t try to justify them, didn’t lay blame anywhere but squarely on your own shoulders. Either you were honorable or you weren’t. Period.

  “No, probably not,” he agreed before returning to the subject. “All her life, people have either ignored her or pitied her. She never had any friends, never had a life, until Jed left last fall. For the first time in twenty-five years, she’s got friends, people who worry about her, people who respect her. She’s afraid…” Breaking off, he drew a deep breath. It was harder admitting her fears to Guthrie than to Olivia. Of course, Olivia was just his sister-in-law. He liked her a lot and, given the chance, would probably come to love her, but she wasn’t the half brother he’d grown up worshiping. He hadn’t spent his entire life trying to win her approval or, failing that, trying to provoke her anger, just to satisfy himself that she felt something for him.

  “She’s afraid,” he forced himself to repeat, “that if people find out the truth, they’ll treat the baby badly because of it. Because of me.”

  “And you’re afraid she’s right,” Guthrie said quietly.

  Ethan shrugged. “Growing up here as Gordon’s son was tough. After all the stunts I’ve pulled, especially what I did to you and Olivia, growing up here as my child might be impossible.”

  Guthrie came to stand beside him, gazing out the same window. “I wish I could say you were both wrong. But there are still people here who believe a James is a sure sign of trouble. There are some who will just be waiting for the kid to screw up, who will blame everything he or she ever does wrong on being a James. I—I’m sorry to admit that I’ve been one of them for a very long time.”

  Ethan turned his head just enough to make eye contact. “No kidding.”

  Guthrie’s smile was embarrassed. “You figured that out, huh?”

  “I’m not as smart as you are, or as capable or as perfect, but after the first ten or twenty times you told me I was a loser, the message sank in.”

  “I didn’t—”

  “You never missed a chance to tell me my father was a poor excuse for a human being, that he was lazy, no good, worthless, that you all were better off without him. And you never missed a chance to add that I was just like him. Since I couldn’t convince you I was better than Gordon, I settled for convincing you I was worse.” He grinned bleakly. “Did a pretty good job of it, didn’t I? It’s the only thing I ever did that I didn’t screw up.”

  Guthrie gestured toward the break room. “You haven’t screwed this up.”

  “I don’t know. I want to get married, she doesn’t. I want to quit hiding, she doesn’t. Right now she doesn’t even want to talk to me. We were dancing—my idea, my fault—and Pete Davis saw us together and guessed…” He finished with a shrug.

  His brother chuckled. “Hell, the whole county’ll know by morning. I’m glad I finally figured it out. It would have been a sorry thing to find out that I’m gonna be an uncle from ol’ Pete.”

  “I don’t know. I found out I was gonna be a father from Olivia.”

  Guthrie gave him a startled look. “Liv knew? And didn’t tell me?”

  “So did Shay.”

  He gave a long-suffering shake of his head. “Women and their secrets. So…what are you going to do now?”

  “I don’t know.” The answer didn’t satisfy Ethan, but it was the only one he had. He supposed they would first deal with the gossip now that Pete had spread it around. Then maybe Grace would see that it wasn’t so bad, that people weren’t so shocked or scornful or narrow-minded.

  Or maybe she would see that it was worse than she’d feared. Maybe some people would wonder out loud what in hell he’d seen in her, or what in hell she’d seen in him. Maybe they would be petty, mean and cruel.

  Maybe Annie would suffer for having him for a father.

  “Bring Grace out to the ranch. She’s always wanted a family, and Lord knows, we have a family. Maybe they can help change her mind.”

  “Maybe.” She certainly liked Olivia. Maybe the idea of being sisters-in-law would help convince her to accept his proposal.

  “Whatever you do, don’t let her push you away. If she decides your reputation is too much to bear, she can turn that kid against you without even realizing she’s doing it. Whatever happens, don’t let her keep you from your baby. Trust me on this.”

  Ethan smiled faintly. “I’ve always trusted you on everything.”

  Guthrie started to walk off, then came back. “For what it’s worth, Ethan… We almost lost the ranch when your father left. I was sixteen, trying to finish school, to hold on to property that had been in my father’s family for generations, trying to keep a roof over our heads. Mom was upset and hurt, and I was furious with Gordon. We were in so much trouble because of him. But he was gone, and you were there, so I…I took it out on you. Hell, you looked just like him, with the same blond hair, the same blue eyes, that same damned grin. Even the way you walked and talked were perfect reminders of him. It was so damned wrong to blame you, but it was so damned easy. Later it became a cycle. The harder I pushed you, the worse you behaved. The worse you behaved, the harder I pushed. At some point along the way, I’d begun to believe my own insults—that you really were just like your father.”

  “And I began to act like him.”

  “I’m sorry, Ethan. I’m so damned sorry.”

  Even if there weren’t a lump in his throat, Ethan wouldn’t know what to say. He settled for clearing his throat, for blinking away whatever was making his eyes water, and shrugged. “It’s okay.”

  “No, it isn’t. But if you give us a chance, maybe we can make it okay.”

  One chance. That was what he’d asked for from Grace. It was easy enough to grant the same to Guthrie. “Sure,” he said as if it were no big deal. “I’d like that.”

  “I’ll have Liv call Grace and arrange dinner or something,” Guthrie said as he headed for the door. “And come by sometime. The kids are missing you.” Then he added just before he walked out, “I’m missing you.”

  Ethan gave a heavy sigh as he listened to the door shut. He’d never felt more hopeful—or less so—in his life. It looked as if things might finally work out with Guthrie.

  Now, if he could just make them right with Grace.

  It didn’t take long for the curiosity to start. Before the close of business on Saturday, Grace had waited on at least a dozen customers who were there strictly to find out if ol’ Pete’s information was correct. Pastor Hughes’s wife didn’t come right out and voice her disapproval, but she kept shaking her head and clucking her tongue, as if she’d just found out that Grace’s baby was the spawn of Satan.

  She dealt with sly hints, outright nosiness, condescension, amazement and countless other responses. She told no one anything, but kept tightening her jaw until her teeth hurt. By the time she turned the Closed sign over on the door, she wanted nothing more than to go home and cry.

  She was sitting at the desk, contemplating doing just that, when Ethan came up behind her and began kneading the tense muscles in her shoulders. Part of her wanted to push him away, to remind him that if he hadn’t insisted on that stupid dance, none of this would be happening. Part of her wanted to turn around, crawl into his arms, hide her face against his chest and stay there forever.

  Instead she did nothing and let him rub her.

  “Run away with me, Gracie,” he murmured as he leaned close to her ear.

  The tension in her muscles doubled. “I thought you were through with running away.”

  “I’ll take you someplace where it’s warm all the time, where you’ll never have to worry about cold or snow.”

  “I like winter,” she said, being deliberately difficult.

  “Then I’ll take you to New England, where the seasons are just as pretty as you please. We’ll find a little village on the coast of Maine and sell nuts and bolts and be handymen-for-hire.”

  “I like Heartbreak.”

  “Better than you like me?”<
br />
  His teasing tone made her lips twitch with the urge to smile. She forced them into a thin line. “At the moment.”

  Kneeling on the floor beside the desk, he swiveled her chair to face him. “What about in the next moment when I kiss you? Or in the moment after I’ve made love to you? What about the moment when you’re cranky and tired and I’m taking care of Annie Grace so you can rest?”

  Her lip trembled, but she kept her frown. “Don’t be charming, Ethan. I’m angry, and I don’t want to be teased out of it.”

  “Okay.” Leaning forward, he pressed his mouth to hers, tickled her lips with his tongue, filled her mouth with it. It was a sweet kiss, an it’s-been-a-long-day-and-you’re-tired kiss. It relaxed and soothed her and made her feel… Lazy. Lucky. Loved.

  And obviously delusional.

  But she liked the delusion too much to force it away just yet.

  Finally, when he pulled back to take a breath, she gave a soft little sigh. “Let’s go home and pretend today never happened.”

  “There are parts of today that I don’t want to pretend didn’t happen,” Ethan said stubbornly as he helped her to her feet. “Waking up with you this morning. Talking to Guthrie. Our dance.”

  She scowled. That damn dance. Her father had been right not to allow music in either his store or his house. It could seduce a person into bad decisions, could land her in an awkward position.

  So could gossipy old neighbors.

  They closed up and went home. Ethan suggested that they go out to dinner—not in Heartbreak, he was quick to add—but all she really wanted was to lie down. Between the baby and the drain on her emotions, she was exhausted. She felt as if she could sleep twenty-four hours straight through. Maybe if she did, when she awakened, life would be better.

  And maybe she’d still be stuck in the same hard place.

  Cassie had warned that she might get a bit emotional, thanks to her pregnancy hormones, but Grace had thought she’d escaped that fate. Now she knew she hadn’t. Her hormones had just been waiting for Ethan to come along before they threw everything into turmoil. As she curled onto her side in bed, she couldn’t decide whether she was mortified that the truth had come out or relieved. Whether she wanted to admit it was true or lie to protect the baby. Whether to cry and lay blame or accept it and get on with her life.