Diamond in the Dust (Second Chances Time Travel Romance Book 3)

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Diamond in the Dust (Second Chances Time Travel Romance Book 3) Page 11

by Peggy L Henderson


  He stepped closer, the smile fading from his face, and Morgan’s eyes were glued to his. There was a question in the way he looked at her, uncertainty, and indecision, under that intense perusal.

  “Have you changed your mind about going to Montana, and decided to become a respectable married lady?”

  Morgan glared at him. “You’re going to land in some hot water one of these days, Desperado. You can’t keep going around, judging me for my decision not to marry Bryce. And no, I haven’t changed my mind. I’m simply having dinner with him, since I have to deliver my car to L.A., anyway. You and I are still leaving first thing in the morning, as planned.”

  “Good,” he said, the word spoken so slowly, the tone of his voice so sensual, a shudder passed through her.

  The heat of his dark eyes, the longing displayed there, reached her very soul. At times his looks were no different than a modern guy’s wandering eyes while checking out a girl, and it was easy to read what was on his mind. At other times, she’d caught the haunted look of hopelessness and loneliness in his stare. Right now, he looked as if he was about to kiss her.

  Morgan mentally shook her head. What was it about Gabe that held her so spellbound? He was so unlike any other guy she’d ever met. His old-fashioned mannerisms were both maddening and endearing.

  “Da-da-da-da-hoss-ee,” Logan babbled loudly, breaking the spell that had enveloped her.

  Her son stretched his arms out to Gabe, leaning toward him, and Morgan reached around his back to steady him or he might have slipped right out of her embrace.

  “I think Logan’s convinced that you’re a cowboy.” Morgan forced a smile.

  Logan squirmed, trying to break free of her hold. He continued to reach out to Gabe, who just stood there, a bewildered look on his face. He appeared downright uncomfortable all of a sudden.

  “I’d better get going, before Logan really throws a fit.”

  Morgan moved around Gabe and out of the kitchen when he didn’t respond. Walking away would spare him any pressure to hold her son. It was obvious that Gabe was uncomfortable with little children, but the motherly instinct in her kicked to life, and annoyance swept through her. Why couldn’t he simply interact with the little boy, even just a tiny bit? Her eyes began to sting, and she blinked quickly.

  Stop acting like an idiot, Morgan. It’s better that Logan doesn’t form an attachment to Gabe.

  Now, if she could only heed that same advice. Once they reached Montana, she and Gabe would most likely go their separate ways.

  Chapter Twelve

  Morgan walked into the restaurant with Logan in her arms. Luckily he’d fallen asleep during the long drive, and might be less cranky. She still wore a smile on her face because of the incredulous look the valets had shot her when she drove up in her brand-new, used Dodge Dakota truck. She’d handed the gaping valet the key to her new wheels, asked him to take good care of her precious vehicle, and headed for the restaurant.

  Wolfgang had truly come through for her, and had found her a midsize truck with low mileage. It even had back seats rather than just a cab, and Logan’s car seat had fit perfectly.

  “I don’t understand you young people these days.” Wolfgang had shaken his head. “Your papa must be rolling over in his grave.”

  Morgan had laughed. “You know my dad would have been happy for me no matter what car I drive. Just because you and he liked to tinker with expensive toys doesn’t mean I have to drive one. The Beamer was my mother’s idea.”

  Wolfgang had laughed with her, holding his protruding beer gut.

  “I remember the outrage on your mama’s face when she came to ze shop once and found you under one of your papa’s Jaguars. You vere covered in grease, and I was afraid she vould faint right there on ze shop floor.”

  Morgan had smiled at the memory. Dad had brought her to the garage ever since she was a little girl, and it had always been their special secret that he had taught her how to use a wrench and ratchet. Her mother had never liked her father’s passion for classic European cars, and Morgan always suspected that he spent a lot of time at the shop, hanging out with his mechanics and tinkering with his latest acquisition, just to escape his wife.

  The maître d’ shot her a high-browed look when Morgan stopped in front of his desk. No doubt he wasn’t happy about a baby in this extravagant restaurant. Before Morgan could open her mouth to ask for Bryce’s table, a familiar voice called her name, and Morgan’s spine stiffened.

  “Morgan.” Bryce rushed up from behind her, a clipped smile on his face. His hand found her waist, and he leaned forward to kiss her cheek.

  “It’s been a while,” Morgan answered coolly, and took a step back.

  She assessed his impeccable appearance. His charcoal tailored Armani suit fit him to perfection. His sandy-blonde hair was cropped shorter than she’d last seen it, but he would look good no matter if he let it grow past his shoulders, or shaved it all off. What a difference from the man she’d met in Montana, where he’d worn jeans and a flannel shirt. He’d come to Ashley’s aunt and uncle’s dude ranch to finalize the purchase of some land the ranch had been in negotiations to buy.

  They’d both taken notice of each other, and had struck up a conversation. They’d been equally surprised that they both hailed from the L.A. area and knew many of the same people. Bryce had been friendly and charming then, and by the time she’d seen through that handsome smile, Morgan had discovered she was pregnant.

  “Would you like to hold your son?” Morgan asked.

  She held Logan out to Bryce when he reached out a tentative hand to touch Logan’s head, like someone would pet a cat.

  The smile faded on his face for just a second, but it was quickly back, and he reached awkwardly for his son. The little boy turned his head away and made a whiney noise. When Bryce lifted him from Morgan’s arms, Logan shook his head vigorously and began to cry.

  “You’d better keep him,” Bryce said between gritted teeth, his eyes darting around the foyer. No doubt he was hoping no one had paid attention to the noise.

  “He’s tired from a long car ride,” Morgan lied hastily, and hugged Logan to her. He’d wrapped his arms around her neck and clamped his legs around her middle like a vice.

  “Maybe it would have been better if you had found a sitter,” Bryce said, adjusting his tie.

  Morgan glared at him while patting Logan’s back to reassure the baby.

  “You haven’t seen him in two months,” she hissed in a low tone. “I thought you might like to see your son.”

  Bryce cleared his throat. “You know how busy I am, Morgan. Let’s find our table, and we’ll discuss it there,” Bryce replied hastily. He snapped his finger at the maître d’, who led them to a small table at the far end of the restaurant.

  “I’ll need a high chair, please,” Morgan said to the maître d’, who stood by the table, waiting for her to be seated.

  “Of course,” he said in a clipped tone. Morgan had half-expected him to say they didn’t have high chairs in this restaurant, but a waiter rushed to the table not a minute later, producing the requested chair.

  Logan settled down when she sat him in the high chair and handed him a left-over cracker and his stuffed horse. Morgan took her seat that the waiter held for her, and thanked him for bringing the chair. She rummaged in the diaper bag for Logan’s sippy cup, and asked the astounded man if he could fill it with fresh water. When she glanced across the table at Bryce, he directed a tight-lipped smile at the waiter. He ordered wine for both of them, and Morgan quickly asked for water.

  Stupid jerk. He knew that wine made her sleepy, or at least he should know. It’s how she’d ended up in his bed that night.

  Morgan smiled at Logan, who babbled happily to his horsey. She had no regrets where her son was concerned. Reaching into the diaper bag again, Morgan pulled out his baby dish and a container of baby food, and pulled the foil wrapper from the top.

  Bryce ordered a seafood dish for both of them when the waite
r returned with the wine and water, and looked decidedly uneasy while Morgan fed Logan.

  “What have you been up to?” Bryce asked after sipping his wine in silence.

  Morgan glanced up at him between spooning food into Logan’s mouth. “I’ve decided to take charge of my life,” she said, smiling at the wide eyes that stared back at her. “I’m moving to Montana.”

  “What?” he hissed loudly from across the table. Frowning, he leaned forward and asked again in a hushed tone, “You’re doing what?”

  “I have a job waiting for me in Montana. Logan and I are leaving tomorrow.”

  Bryce straightened. He glanced around, probably wondering who had heard his slight outburst.

  “Your mother wants us to get married. You can’t just run off to Montana.”

  Sliding the wine glass to the side, Morgan took a sip from her water, handed Logan a cracker, and calmly looked at the stiff-faced man across from her. Before this night was over, she was sure to get a phone call from her mother. She mentally shrugged. It didn’t matter that her mother would know of her plans.

  There’s nothing she can do to stop me.

  “I’m not marrying you, Bryce. You’ve asked me before to marry you, and my answer will always be the same, regardless of what my mother wants.” She paused, handed Logan another cracker, and stared back at Bryce across the table. “You have land in Montana. What better excuse to stay on your property there than to come visit your son?”

  Morgan’s heart beat faster all of a sudden. The mention of the ranch Bryce owned brought to mind the mustangs and the sanctuary that needed to relocate. Maybe he would allow the horses to stay there temporarily.

  “I don’t need to go to Montana to see my son if he’s right here.”

  Morgan mentally counted to ten, and redoubled her effort to look pleasant.

  “This isn’t up for discussion,” she said as calmly as she could muster. She inhaled a deep breath. It was now or never.

  “I do have something I want to ask you.”

  Bryce’s brows rose, his face perking up with interest. A gleam of triumph passed through his eyes.

  “I’m all ears,” he said smugly, sipping his wine.

  Too late now to back out, Morgan.

  “Would you have room on that ranch of yours for about a hundred or so horses?”

  “A hundred horses?”

  “I’ve been helping a wild horse sanctuary, and they need to relocate. They just need a temporary place to stay, until we can find a permanent home for them.”

  Morgan rubbed her sweaty palm on her napkin under the table. The other hand gripped her water goblet.

  Damn my big mouth.

  He had something she wanted, and by the smug look on his face, he would use that to his advantage.

  “I don’t need a bunch of nags that should be going to the slaughterhouse running around on that property.”

  “It would only be for a while, Bryce. A few months until we can figure out a permanent place for them.”

  “Move back in with me, and we’ll talk about it.”

  He reached his hand across the table, and covered hers. An icy chill crept up her spine. How different this felt from when Gabe had done the same thing several days ago. A warm sensation had passed through her at his touch, leaving her wanting more, not the need to get away.

  “What are you doing with a bunch of old broomtails that are better off at the glue factory, anyway?” Bryce laughed, apparently thinking he was being funny.

  “They’re not nags or broomtails. Mustangs are the embodiment of the spirit of the American West. They shouldn’t be rounded up so they can be sent to slaughter. They need to be protected.”

  “You’ve always had too soft of a heart, Morgan. You’ll never get far in this world if you’re always giving handouts.”

  “At least I sleep better at night. Forget I mentioned it.” Morgan quickly pulled her hand out from under his.

  The smile left Bryce’s face. “I’ve been trying to sell that property in Montana,” he said slowly.

  “Trying?” Morgan’s brows rose. Bryce never had trouble with his real estate dealings. Why would he have to try and sell his own property?

  Bryce scoffed. “I’ve sold off a lot of the livestock, but I haven’t been able to sell the land because it’s held up in the courts over a legal matter I’m trying to get around.”

  “Well, I’m sure with your business savvy, that should be no problem,” Morgan said sweetly.

  Apparently unperturbed by her sarcastic retort, Bryce reached for her hand again. He smiled slowly, indulgently. “Maybe while I wait to get past the red tape, you can bring your little project onto the ranch.”

  Morgan shook her head. “I made a mistake by asking. I’ll find something without your help.”

  His lips tightened in a firm line, and anger darkened his eyes. To the casual observer, it wouldn’t be noticeable.

  “You had nothing against me when we met in Montana,” he said in a low tone. His grip tightened.

  “I didn’t know the real you back then.”

  Morgan yanked her hand out from under his, knocking her full wine glass over in the process. She sprang to her feet, but some of the wine had managed to dribble onto her dress. She hastily dabbed her napkin over the spot. This was the perfect excuse to end this evening. She hadn’t had much of an appetite, anyway.

  “I need to get home,” she said quickly, and lifted Logan from the high chair. Grabbing the diaper bag, she rushed from the restaurant, ignoring the stares and whispers from the diners around her. From the sound of Bryce’s voice calling to her, he was right on her heels. Morgan didn’t stop until she handed one of the valets the claim ticket to her truck. Bryce grabbed her arm and spun her around.

  “Stop making a scene, Morgan,” he hissed under his breath and roughly pulled her close to him. Logan screeched loudly in her ear.

  “I won’t have to, if you let go of me right now.” She glared up at him. “You hit me once, Bryce, and that was once too often. I don’t believe for a second that you wouldn’t do it again.” She glanced from him to where he held her arm, then back at his face. “Now, let go of me, or this time, I will call the police.”

  Bryce’s jaw muscles worked furiously, but he wisely let go of her. The valet pulled up with Morgan’s truck, and she hastily buckled Logan into his seat. Handing the wide-eyed kid a tip, she climbed into her new vehicle, and drove off without a backward glance.

  Tears blurred her vision when she reached the freeway and headed east. Morgan gripped the steering wheel. It was going to be a long drive back to Victorville. She should never have agreed to see him. She’d done an even dumber thing when she’d opened her big mouth and asked him to do her a favor. Why had she ever thought that he might say yes without strings attached? Bryce didn’t do favors for anyone, unless there was something in it for him.

  By the time she pulled into the driveway at Ashley’s house, her eyelids were heavy, and she couldn’t wait to crawl into bed. Logan had fallen asleep a little over an hour ago, and Morgan gently lifted him into her arms after easing him out of his car seat. If she got lucky, he’d stay asleep.

  The front door opened before she even reached the porch steps. Gabe filled the doorframe, silhouetted against the glow of the light shining from the living room. Morgan glanced up, and an overpowering rush of relief swept over her. Just seeing him, knowing he was there, calmed all the annoyance that had kept her on edge during the long drive home.

  Silently, he stepped aside when she reached the door, and she offered a weak smile before stepping into the house.

  “Thanks,” she whispered, so as to not wake Logan.

  She carried the baby to her bedroom, dropped the diaper bag on the floor, and gently lowered Logan into his crib. Removing his shoes, she placed his beloved horsey next to his head, along with his cuddle blanket, and covered him with a light sheet. If she tried to undress him, he’d wake up, and then she’d most likely be awake for several hours before
he went back to sleep. There was no reason he couldn’t sleep in his clothes for one night.

  Morgan straightened, and held her hand to her lower back, rubbing at her stiff spine. A soft groan escaped her lips, and she yawned.

  “You’re all puckered again.”

  Morgan turned at the sound of Gabe’s deep drawl from just outside her room. She turned, and shushed him, then hurried into the hall.

  “A little quiet, please,” she whispered, glaring up at him, only too aware of his shirt that hung unbuttoned from his torso.

  “I’m not puckered,” she added, unable to keep the annoyance from her tone that he’d read her mood so easily.

  Morgan squeezed past him, heading for the kitchen. She needed a drink of water, some ibuprofen for her pounding head, and then a good night’s sleep. Just past the living room, she stepped on something round and slick, and her ankle twisted to the side. Morgan’s hands shot out, ready to brace against the wall, when a pair of strong hands grabbed her waist and steadied her.

  She drew in a quick breath at the unexpected sensation of Gabe’s warm hands supporting her, and spun around to face him.

  “You all right?”

  Morgan stared up into his dark eyes. She took an involuntary step closer, as if some invisible force drew her to him. That inexplicable feeling that always rushed over her whenever she was in Gabe’s presence overruled any common sense. Her hands reached up, gripping his upper arms to steady her weak knees. She should have remembered to take her high heels off in her bedroom, then she wouldn’t have tripped.

  “You’ve been drinking,” Gabe said in a low tone.

  Morgan shook her head, her eyes still connected with his. That dark look in his eyes held her captivated. She was tired, she’d had a heck of a long day, and no doubt her emotions were charged after that annoying evening with Bryce. Gabe’s hands at her waist intensified her need at that moment to be held, to not feel alone.

  “No,” she whispered. “I haven’t been drinking. Bryce was his usual unpleasant self, and it’s got me on edge.”

  Inhaling the scent of his warm skin sent a rush of heat through her. She may not have had any alcohol, but giddiness and lightheadedness affected her thinking as if she’d had several glasses of wine.

 

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