Julie wasn’t so sure about that. She also wasn’t fool enough to say so. Harry was barking, and she needed to go home to Calvin, prepare herself to get through the week to come.
“Call me,” she told Paige, in parting.
Half an hour later, she and Harry arrived in the driveway of the main ranch house on the Silver Spur.
Calvin waved at her from his high perch on Garrett’s shoulders as they came through the open doorway of the barn.
Harry, beside himself with joy, demanded to be released from the car, and by the time Julie had gotten out herself, opened the rear door and lifted the beagle to the ground, Calvin and Garrett were standing next to her.
“We’ve been feeding the horses!” Calvin crowed.
Julie’s first impulse, whenever Calvin was around any animal other than Harry or Tate and Libby’s three dogs, was to worry that the dander might trigger an asthma or allergy attack in her son. Seeing the delight on Calvin’s somewhat grubby face, she caught the knee-jerk protest before it could leave her mouth.
Feeling oddly shy, in light of the deliciously scandalous things she and Garrett had done together the night before, Julie managed to avoid the man’s gaze, for the moment, at least.
“You were?” she smiled. “You were feeding horses? Calvin Remington, I am impressed.”
The happiness in the child’s small, earnest face was sweet to see, but it also sent tiny cracks splintering through Julie’s heart. Calvin was thrilled that he’d helped with grown-up chores, but simply being in Garrett’s presence mattered more.
It was natural, she supposed, for a little boy, especially one raised without a father, to look up to a man like Garrett McKettrick.
But what if Calvin was growing attached to him?
Garrett reached up, removed his hat and set it on Calvin’s head with unerring accuracy. Julie felt Garrett’s gaze on her face and made herself meet it.
She saw a pensive expression in his eyes, along with gentle humor and a kind of—well—patience, a willingness to wait, that moved her in a way she wouldn’t have anticipated. His face was badly bruised, as if he’d been in a fight, and Julie instinctively skirted the topic. She would ask about it later.
Harry, a dog wanting his boy, bounded around them, yipping cheerfully.
Garrett grinned and set Calvin on the ground. Still wearing Garrett’s hat, Calvin giggled as Harry leaped up to lick his face and sent the both of them tumbling in the grass.
Julie’s sinuses burned, and she had to blink a couple of times.
Garrett rested a hand lightly against the small of her back, urging her toward the house.
“I have to put the car away,” she said.
“I’ll do that later,” Garrett responded.
A noise coming from the direction of the service road down by the gates made all of them turn to look.
A flatbed truck came into view, pulling half of a double-wide mobile home.
Julie watched it for a few moments, putting two and two together in her stress-and-sex-addled brain, and turned her eyes back to Garrett. The motion was quick and sure, like the needle of a compass swinging toward true north.
“Brent called,” Garrett explained, sounding almost shy. “He said there was a fire in town, and it left a family with no place to live.”
Before Julie could respond, Calvin tugged at the sleeve of her coat, thus commanding her attention. “Esperanza roasted two whole chickens for supper,” he said. “And that’s a lot of food, so Libby and Tate and Audrey and Ava are coming over to eat with us.”
The way her child said the word us made Julie’s throat go tight again.
Inside, the big kitchen was warm and glowing with welcoming light, and the atmosphere was savory with the aroma of Esperanza’s roast chickens. A poignant sense of gratitude struck Julie in that moment, but it was bittersweet.
Was she getting too comfortable in this temporary place? With this very temporary man?
Suddenly aware that her clothes and hair must smell like smoke, Julie excused herself to take a quick shower and change her clothes.
When she returned from the guest apartment, perhaps twenty minutes later, Libby and Tate had arrived with the twins, and Austin, looking spiffy in clean jeans and a pale blue T-shirt, was setting the table for a crowd.
Julie took a moment to savor the scene, a happy family—or a mostly happy one, anyway—gathered to share a meal on a chilly fall evening. If Paige had been there, she thought, it would have been perfect.
A smile twitched at the corner of her mouth, lightening her mood. Well, maybe not perfect, she thought.
Could any space contain both Austin McKettrick and Paige Remington without bursting into flames?
Garrett bumped her lightly from behind, stopping just short of wrapping his arms around her waist—or that was the feeling she had, anyway. Maybe it was her imagination.
Or some serious wishful thinking.
“What?” he asked, after shifting to stand beside her.
Calvin was still wearing Garrett’s hat, making sure Audrey and Ava noticed it.
Don’t, Julie pleaded silently, watching her son. Don’t care too much.
“Nothing,” she lied. She couldn’t have explained what she was feeling to Garrett—it was all so complicated, she didn’t understand it herself.
Libby and Tate were helping the twins out of their coats, taking off their own.
Libby turned her head, caught Julie’s eye.
Julie watched as her sister’s glance moved to Garrett, no doubt noticing how close the two of them were.
A smile twitched at Libby’s mouth, and she widened her eyes at Julie, as if to say, Well, now…what have we here?
Self-consciously, Julie moved away from Garrett just a bit.
He chuckled at that, and shook his head.
Esperanza oversaw all this, but when it was time to sit down and eat, she pleaded a full schedule of must-see TV, took a plate and left the kitchen for her own sitting room.
Julie couldn’t help noticing that Calvin, who usually sat beside her, had squeezed in between Garrett and Austin at the other side of the table. Thankfully, Austin had casually relieved him of the oversize hat, setting it aside on a nearby breakfront.
The fire at the Strivenses’ place was the first topic of conversation.
“It’s just lucky one of the staff trailers was empty,” Libby said. Tate was next to her, and she paused to give him a look that said he’d not only hung the sun and the moon, but the stars, too.
Watching Libby, Tate looked wonderstruck, as though he couldn’t believe his good fortune in being loved by such a woman.
Julie, seeing all this, made herself look away, not because she was envious, exactly, but because suddenly she yearned—oh, yes, yearned—to find what Libby and Tate had together. And in looking away, she immediately snagged gazes with Garrett.
It was a struggle, breaking free.
The air almost crackled between them.
And for just a little while, Julie allowed herself to pretend it would last.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“ARE WE GOING TO PRETEND last night didn’t happen?” Garrett asked.
Julie, startled half to death, stopped on the threshold of her small sitting room, one hand pressed to her heart. She’d just tucked Calvin into bed and listened to his prayers.
“You scared me,” Julie said, although that was probably obvious.
Garrett sat, relaxed, on the sofa, with Harry snuggled right beside him. The dog’s muzzle rested on Garrett’s thigh and, barely acknowledging Julie’s arrival, the animal casually rolled his luminous brown eyes in her direction but otherwise didn’t move a muscle.
Not exactly protective.
“Sorry,” Garrett said, but the grin quirking at the corner of his mouth belied the sincerity of his apology.
Julie didn’t retreat, but she didn’t move forward, either. She just stood there, and this was not at all like the self she knew, and that was irritating to the nt
h degree. Of all the men who might have breached her defenses, why did it have to be this one?
“Julie?” Garrett prompted, stroking Harry’s ears, evidently willing to wait as long as necessary for an answer to his question.
“It might be better if we did pretend that last night didn’t happen,” she said.
Garrett studied her in silence for a long moment. Then he shook his head. “I don’t believe that,” he decided aloud, “and I don’t think you do, either.”
Julie bit down on her lower lip, wedged her hands, backward, into the hip pockets of her jeans, and rocked back, ever so slightly, on the heels of her sneakers.
“Come here,” Garrett said, patting the Harry-free side of him on the sofa.
She hesitated. Pulled a hand free of its pocket to cock a thumb over one shoulder, indicating that Calvin was just down the hallway. The little dickens hadn’t had time to fall asleep, and if he’d heard Garrett’s voice, caught even the timbre of it, he was surely listening in.
“Calvin,” Julie mouthed.
Garrett chuckled and shook his head again. “I wasn’t planning on saying—or doing—anything ungentlemanly,” he said.
“You did mention last night,” she pointed out.
“So did you,” Garrett reasoned, sitting there looking all cowboy-hunky, with his boots and his jeans and his Western shirt open at the throat. “Just now.”
Julie narrowed her eyes, rested her hands on her hips. Harry had rolled onto his back for a tummy rub. Traitorous dog. Next, he’d be living upstairs with Garrett and riding around with him in trucks.
“Just remember,” she said, “that Harry is my dog.”
“Don’t kid yourself,” Garrett replied, still amused. His eyes seemed to drink her in in big guzzling gulps. “He’s Calvin’s dog, through and through.” He glanced fondly down at Harry, who lay surrendered, all three legs in the air. “He’s also something of a hedonist, it would seem.”
Julie did not join Garrett on the sofa—that would have been giving too much ground, tantamount to sprawling on her back, like Harry, in hopes of a tummy rub.
Or something.
She did perch on the arm of a nearby chair, though. She folded her arms and tried to look as though the man hadn’t turned her entire universe on its ear with one night of lovemaking.
“So the decision is…?” Garrett said, after watching her a little longer.
“There’s supposed to be a decision?” she countered, stalling.
Garrett sighed. After easing Harry aside, he got up off the couch, walked to the archway leading into the small corridor, no doubt to make sure Calvin wasn’t crouched just outside the glow of the hallway nightlight, eavesdropping.
Returning—the coast must have been clear—Garrett stood in front of Julie.
He gripped her shoulders, very gently, and raised her to her feet.
And then, slowly, and with a thoroughness that proved he meant business, Garrett McKettrick kissed her.
Julie practically swooned. There were now two categories of kissing in her personal lexicon—being kissed by Garrett McKettrick and being kissed by any other man in the world.
The first had totally ruined the second, for all time.
Julie had tears in her eyes when it ended. “You’ll just go away,” she blurted out in an anguished whisper, and instantly regretted the outburst.
Garrett curved his fingers under her chin. “I always come back,” he said, his voice husky, his gaze tender on her face. “And you might like some of the places I go. Did you ever consider that?”
What was he saying? What did And you might like some of the places I go actually mean?
“I have a son,” she said, taking a tremendous risk with her pride. He’d know she’d interpreted his remark as an invitation of sorts, or at least a suggestion that she might be traveling with him in the future—and that was way more than she was ready to acknowledge. “I have a job and two sisters.” Julie’s gaze dropped to Harry, still on the couch, though now curled contentedly into a furball. “I’m pretty sure I still have a dog. In other words, I’m not a jet-setter like you, or the people you know, Garrett. I’m a hometown kind of gal.”
He frowned, apparently puzzled. A fraction of a second later, though, she saw his wondrous, dark-denim eyes widen with some realization he might or might not be willing to share. “I see,” he said.
“I’m not sure you do,” Julie replied, without meaning to say anything at all.
Her dad would have said her tongue was hinged at both ends, the way she kept blathering on. Why couldn’t she just shut up?
The recollection of her gentle, often sad father brought the faintest hint of a smile to Julie’s mouth.
Garrett merely raised one eyebrow, waiting for her to go on.
“You and I come from different worlds, Garrett,” she told him finally.
He actually had the nerve to roll his eyes. “That is so corny,” he said. “‘You and I come from different worlds’? Have you been watching soap operas or something?”
Garrett was mocking her, Julie decided, and she should have been angry—or at least indignant. Instead, this ridiculous and completely unfounded happiness burgeoned inside her, and she almost laughed.
Now, the new-jeans eyes were twinkling. It was disconcerting how quickly he read her, Julie thought—and how well.
“You know what I mean,” she insisted, determined to salvage something of the perfectly reasonable argument she was trying to make. “There are some pretty obvious contrasts between us, after all.”
“Umm-hmm,” Garrett agreed. He was about to kiss her again; she could feel his breath, a pleasant tickle on her mouth. “Viva la contrasts, baby.”
Julie pressed her palms to his chest then, meaning to push him away, or at least hold him at a little distance. Instead, though, her hands slid, as if of their own accord, to join at the back of his neck.
The second kiss left her swaying.
Garrett’s hands rested, strong and sure, on either side of her waist. Then he gave a long, comically beleaguered sigh. “Good night, Julie,” he said, the words blowing past her ear like the softest of summer breezes.
He walked away then, and as soon as he turned his back, Julie rested one hand on the back of the armchair, just to steady herself, afraid she was going to hyperventilate.
Harry, still on the couch, lifted his head, thumped at the cushions a few times with his tail, and jumped, with remarkable grace, to the floor.
The dog hesitated, watching her with something like sympathy, then toddled off down the hall, headed for Calvin’s room.
Julie followed, quietly opening the door, careful not to let the light from the hallway fall on her little boy’s face.
Harry trotted in and bounded up onto the mattress on his own, settling into a sighing heap at Calvin’s feet.
Julie blew a kiss to her sleeping son, slipped out of the room and softly closed the door.
“YOU’RE LIVING WITH THIS GUY?” Gordon asked the next morning, his voice grating at Julie through her headset. She’d just dropped Calvin off at Libby and Tate’s, and she had a full day of teaching ahead, to be followed by the first round of tryouts for the musical.
You’re living with this guy?
The question was so off the wall that Julie was thrown by it.
That particular reaction was short-lived. “What did you just ask me?” she retorted.
Gordon sighed. “Look, as lousy as my track record is, I am Calvin’s father,” he said. “I’m concerned about his…environment, that’s all.”
Julie actually trembled, and for a moment she thought the cheap plastic housing of her cell phone might actually crack, she was squeezing it so tightly. She pulled over to the side of that country road, for her own sake and that of other drivers, put the car in Park, flipped on the blinkers.
With a conscious effort, she loosened her grip on the phone and lightened up on the pressure against her skull.
“His ‘environment’?”
“No, Gordon,” Julie countered, “I do not know what you’re talking about.” She did, actually, but she wasn’t going to make this easy.
Gordon had been the one to initiate the call.
And he’d made her sound like some kind of tramp, shacking up with this guy or that one and leaving Calvin to manage on his own.
Another sigh came then, gusty and long-suffering. “Maybe I could have been more diplomatic,” he ventured.
“Think so?”
Gordon sounded suitably remorseful. Even sad. But Julie knew from experience how quickly his mood could change. “I never knew how to talk to you, Julie. That was our main problem.”
In her opinion, their “main problem” had been Gordon’s complete inability to commit himself to either her or their son. Fortunately for Dixie and the new baby, due in April, he had evidently changed.
Tension stretched between them, almost palpable.
The invisible rubber band finally snapped.
Just as Julie had expected, Gordon retrenched. “Are you or are you not living with a man you’re not married to?” he demanded.
So much for his concern about being more diplomatic.
“I’m not living with Garrett McKettrick,” Julie said, “not that it would be any of your damn business if I was. I hardly feel any compunction to account to you for my behavior, Gordon.”
“You’re right,” Gordon allowed, after a few beats. “What you do in your—romantic life—isn’t my concern. It’s just that Calvin told me—”
“When did you speak with Calvin?” Julie broke in.
She glanced into the rearview mirror and saw an old red pickup pull up behind her. It was the same truck Garrett had been driving on Saturday, when she and Libby and Paige were heading out to shop for Libby’s wedding dress.
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