by Mindy Neff
She looked uncomfortable admitting that and he eased her with a nod. “We were both pretty hard-headed.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “God, I regret that.”
“So did Jimmy,” she said softly.
His heart actually jolted. “What are you saying?”
“After the babies were conceived—” she smoothed a hand over her stomach “—he told me about your estrangement, about the money he stole.”
Cheyenne glanced away, stared at the flames. “He came to me and confessed.” Confessed that he’d stolen from the elderly affluent couple he’d been doing handyman chores for. “He wanted me to hide him until the speculation died down.”
At the time Jimmy had only been seventeen, and Cheyenne, at twenty-five, had felt so much older, so damned superior. The timing couldn’t have been worse. He’d just applied for a deputy position in Shotgun Ridge. He’d been so determined to rise above his impoverished beginnings, so determined to do right. He’d been disgusted by Jimmy’s actions, ashamed, afraid of how his brother’s crime might affect his own goals.
“I wanted him to turn himself in,” he said. “We fought about it.”
“I know. He stole because he was hungry.”
Cheyenne’s head jerked. “For drugs, you mean?”
“No. Food.”
Surely…
“He was proud, too, Cheyenne.”
Cheyenne closed his eyes. Damn it. “Our father was providing for him.”
“No. Your father was drinking. The rent was due. Jimmy was scared.”
He felt as though drops of acid were pelting his heart. “And I was so pompous and rigid I didn’t take the time to listen.” Was it because he’d felt abandoned by the father Jimmy lived with? Blond and blue-eyed, Jimmy looked like their father. Cheyenne looked like the son of an Indian.
And Chuck Bodine had come to hate that, denying that he, too, shared a trace of the same Native American heritage. He’d wanted his boys to be replicas of him, obviously figured he had a fighting chance since the woman he’d married was actually one-quarter Anglo, perhaps banking on those recessive genes to give him the all-American family he envisioned.
His father had been a man with grandiose dreams without the drive to follow through.
Cheyenne wanted to believe that his parents had been in love. But poverty, low self-esteem on his father’s part and interference from his mother’s family had torn the family apart, divided the camps. Fiercely protective, Cheyenne had aligned himself with his mother. Jimmy had moved to Billings with their father.
Jimmy had been the one who’d suffered, pulled between the divorced couple. And Cheyenne had been helpless to stop the downward spiral that had begun to take place in Jimmy’s life because of it.
“You didn’t turn him in,” she pointed out gently.
Cheyenne shrugged.
“It wasn’t solely your fault. Jimmy said he let you think the worst of him.”
He leaned forward and plowed his hands through his hair. “There was a time when we were so close. God, forgive me.”
“I’m sure He does. And so did Jimmy. He idolized you, Cheyenne. But he, too, had way too much pride. He was ashamed of what he’d done, but it was probably the best thing that ever happened to him. He turned his life around, got an education. He was a fabulous artist, and our company snapped him up in a hurry. He did all the artwork for our ad campaigns. And after he and Debbie got married and the pregnancy came about, he really started yearning for family. He wanted to mend fences, Cheyenne.”
“Why did he wait?” Why did I wait?
“He wanted to wait until the babies were born, to come to you and proudly show off his family, a visual testament to how he’d turned his life around.”
“I should have made the first move.” Actually he had. Several months after he’d landed the deputy position, he’d tried to contact Jimmy, attempted to reconcile. But Jimmy had rebuffed him, wouldn’t have any of it.
“‘Should have’ won’t change anything now.”
“I know.” But that didn’t alleviate the guilt. He should have pushed. Should have tried harder. He glanced down at her stomach. “So what now?”
She leaned forward, having to spread her thighs in order to accommodate her belly. “Now I seem to have a housing crisis.”
“You’re really serious about me helping you out with the babies?”
“I’ve taken maternity leave, packed up most of my clothes and personal stuff and driven five hundred miles. It doesn’t get much more serious.”
“Why me?”
“You have a stake in these children’s lives.”
“I could always visit.”
She stood up and paced. Stopping in front of the fireplace, she said, “I’m scared.”
He rose, too, moved closer. “It’s more than that, I think.”
She glared at him, but there was no heat behind the look. Only discomfort.
“Come on, trouble. Why did you come to me?”
“I’m a sucker,” she muttered. “Besides the fact that I panicked, I—I guess I thought I could mend the rift between you and Jimmy.”
“How?”
“By reuniting you through the babies. I loved Jimmy, Cheyenne. And so did my sister. They talked about this reunion, looked forward to it.” She shrugged as though her incredible intentions were no big deal. “But I do need the help,” she quickly added.
He couldn’t take his eyes off her. He was so touched and awed, astounded by this woman’s unconditional capacity for love.
This was her gift to his brother.
And to him.
He couldn’t imagine any other woman being this selfless. And he was truly baffled that she didn’t appear to see how unique she was.
But then, Emily had always been like that.
As though it had happened yesterday, he remembered a time when they were young. He’d been the teenage kid with the chip on his shoulder, the outcast. His family hadn’t had enough money for lunches and he’d gone without. Emily, three years younger than him, had scooted up next to him on a bench where he’d isolated himself and casually shared her sandwich with him as though they met for lunch like that every day. She didn’t speak or make a big deal. She was just this little fourteen-year-old skinny girl who’d rescued him.
Funny how that memory had stuck with him all these years.
Now she was the one who needed rescuing.
“Say something,” she said nervously.
“Thank you.”
She let out a breath, gave him a smile. “I still seem to be in a dilemma over housing. I can’t believe the mayor deliberately leased me a house that had burned down—and wasn’t even his to begin with. No wonder he didn’t ask for a deposit—unless he didn’t know about the fire?”
“He knew. How much did you tell him?”
“About what?”
“Your reasons for wanting to take up residence close to me?”
“Um, pretty much everything. I told him about the babies and Jimmy and Debbie…Come to think of it, that man has a way of getting people to spill their guts.”
“Crafty son of a gun.”
“But what in the world was his purpose?”
“Matchmaking.”
“Excuse me?”
“They’re on a campaign. Half the town is.”
“But I’m not looking for a man.”
He raised a brow. “You came looking for me.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, you know what I mean. So put me out of suspense here. Can I stay with you? Will you help me get through the first couple of months with the babies?”
“I see a couple of problems there.”
“Well, bring them on. I’m good at problem solving.”
“Really? Is that what pays you enough money to buy a Mercedes?”
“The Mercedes is leased. But yes, I do put out fires, so to speak, and yes, I’m paid very well for it. When it comes to marketing, everyone’s got a gripe. So lay yours on me.”
“I d
on’t know a thing about babies.”
“And you think I do?”
“You’re a woman.”
“Give the man a star for astuteness. Just because I’m female doesn’t make me qualified. And there are two of them!”
Her tone was so horrified he nearly smiled. “I’m sure you’re a quick study.”
“Likewise. Cheyenne, what is the problem here? These children are your blood.”
“I know, damn it! I’m scared, too.”
Emily took a step back at his outburst, then tugged at her sweater. “Well, now we’re getting somewhere. That’s a perfectly human emotion. I’m terrified myself, as you’ll have noticed I’ve mentioned more times than necessary tonight. Next.”
“What?”
His confusion was endearing. “Next problem or comment or gripe. I’m fairly tired and I need a bed, and I’m hoping to persuade you to let me have one of yours—just for a couple of months.”
“How about a question?”
She shrugged. She really was tired. “Questions are acceptable.”
“Will you marry me?”
Emily sat right down on the stone hearth. Blue jumped up from where he’d been lying and came to see about her. The part of her brain that was still functioning noted that one of his eyes were blue and the other was brown.
She absently patted the dog, then stared, dum-founded and confused, at Cheyenne.
“Um.” She cleared her throat. “Maybe we should lead up to that sort of question with a little discussion.” She buried her fingers in the husky’s thick fur.
“You’re carrying my brother’s babies. They deserve to have our family’s name.”
“Oh.” Why had she allowed her mind to take that wild leap, to jump giddily to the conclusion that Cheyenne actually wanted her. She must be majorly tired. “I’d already planned to put Jimmy’s name on the birth certificates, so the kids will be Bodines.”
“I’m glad to hear that. I would still like to honor you with marriage. You’re family.”
“Well, not really.”
“Through the children.”
“If this is about your heritage, your people, I could explain it to them so they wouldn’t think you were breaching any…” She waved her hand, at a loss. “Any whatever.”
“I told you. I’m Cheyenne in my heart, not necessarily in practice. This has more to do with Shotgun Ridge being a small town. I’m in a public position and I have a certain standard to maintain.”
“Are you telling me it’s not acceptable for people to live together here?”
“It’s not acceptable for me. It’s personal.”
“This seems so drastic. I have a career, a house. I’m on the verge of landing the biggest account of my career, a coup that could earn me the vice presidency in the firm. I can’t just get married.”
“You’re having babies.”
“But that’s only temp…orary,” she finished. She’d gotten so used to thinking of the twins as a short-term commitment.
“Not anymore. I want to know these children, Emily. You’ve literally humbled me with the sacrifice you’ve made, proved the incredible depth of your character by coming to me, giving me the opportunity to hold and know a part of my brother.”
“Oh, stop,” she complained. “You’re making me feel like a saint. I’m not.”
“We’ll debate that later. Right now you need my help. You said so. And I’m willing and happy to give it, to share my home with you for as long as you want. But for my own honor and integrity, I need to do that within the bounds of matrimony.”
“But what about when I go back to work? Will we get a divorce? Won’t that be just as much of a black mark on your reputation?”
“We’ll work that out when the time comes. This is important to me, Em.”
She studied him for a long time, matching his stillness, his intensity.
Good Lord, about the time she thought she’d crested the mountain, someone came along and cranked it up even higher, extending her hike into the unknown. First the babies, now the marriage.
She hadn’t bargained for either.
But she understood what was behind Cheyenne’s concerns. He’d clawed for respectability as a kid, had attained it as a man. Taking a chance on losing that, even a tiny portion of it, would be huge for a man like him.
Her sense of fairness ruled. She wanted Cheyenne to know these children. She wanted him to see Jimmy’s accomplishment.
And, selfishly, this was a terrible time in her life. She was scared spitless over what was to come. She trusted Cheyenne.
Oh, she didn’t know him well—that was a given. It went back to that connection thing, she supposed, that intangible understanding. She felt it in her heart. And in her gut.
As though they were soul mates.
That wild, unexpected thought caused her heart to lurch and stirred the babies into their acrobatic act. She put her hand low on her abdomen, cradling them as though to soothe, to apologize for upsetting herself and them.
Could the children feel her emotions? She didn’t know. There was so much she didn’t know. And no one to turn to for the answers she sought.
She’d moved through the past two weeks in a fog, stunned over the death of her loved ones, stunned over the future she now faced. Up until two weeks ago, she’d basically compartmentalized her mind with these babies in one part—ignoring them to some degree—knowing that her responsibility was only short-term, that there was an end in sight. Now it was all hitting her at once.
There’d been no time to think, to read books on parenthood, to absorb the magnitude of what she faced. She wasn’t supposed to be facing it. There had been no reason to arm herself with knowledge about motherhood, no reason to prepare for responsibilities beyond the birth of the babies.
And for the first time in her life, Emily had panicked.
In the midst of her panic, Cheyenne’s face had come to mind, the life vest she’d grabbed hold of in the turbulent seas that were threatening to drown her.
She was living moment to moment, thinking moment to moment. Perhaps not totally rationally. Maybe her reasons for coming to him went deeper. She didn’t know. Wasn’t really in any shape to know.
Cheyenne was her best hope. Just for a while, though.
She didn’t want to admit that her circle of friends in Washington were mostly business associates. Career people who weren’t into families and diapers and trips to the park. They dealt in spreadsheets and keeping their fingers on America’s pulse, trying to second-guess the next trend and how best to exploit it. They worshiped the almighty dollar and relished the cutthroat climb up the corporate ladder.
It was a world she’d been comfortable in, successful in. Until now.
“Say, yes, Emily. Let me take care of you.”
She looked at him for a long moment. He was a warrior. A protector. The woman who captured this man’s heart would be lucky indeed.
She doubted she could ever be that woman.
But it wasn’t what she wanted, anyway, she reminded herself. It wasn’t what she was looking for.
But she was looking for a partner to ease the load, to share her very real fears of this new, untried venture she was stepping blindly into.
Motherhood.
And, she realized with a resigned sigh, marriage.
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
She was trembling like a leaf. She could be sophisticated about the whole thing, though. “Yes. Sure.”
He was looking at her as though she was somebody special. And that made her uncomfortable. She was just plain Emily, darn it all.
“So do we seal the bargain with a kiss, or what?”
Before she even thought through the flippant words, words born of nerves, Cheyenne was standing in front of her, his silver-and-turquoise belt buckle brushing her swollen stomach.
“We can.”
“No! I was just kidding.”
His palms cradled her cheeks as he bent forward. “I’m not
.”
Oh…my…gosh. “Cheyenne, uh, no…really, this isn’t—”
“Yes. It is. Really.”
The first touch of his lips was like fire. Her heart beat so hard it hurt.
And the fire just got hotter.
Chapter Three
With the smallest movement of his lips, the slightest angling of his head, he captured emotions as wild as a prairie fire out of control. He could feel them. Taste them.
The kiss was only meant to be a test, an acceptance of a dare.
Yet it was much, much more. He felt her response clear down to his soul, the heat, the passion…the promise. Her lips were pliant and mobile, so erotic he burned. She knew exactly what to do with her tongue—and with his.
Emily Vincent knew how to kiss.
And Cheyenne realized in a hurry that he was out of control.
And in big trouble.
He eased away, felt her lips cling for a split second more. It made him feel ten feet tall. And it made him feel like a louse. He was taking advantage.
He rested his forehead against hers, her belly holding them apart. Still, the body contact was the most seductive thing he’d ever felt.
He wasn’t sex-deprived, but it had been a long time for him. And why was he thinking about sex after only one kiss?
Nearly nine months pregnant—with twins, no less—and the woman still turned him on. But she wasn’t a woman he could allow himself to fall for. In fact, she was the exact type he made it a point to steer clear of.
He had plenty of experience with career women. He’d been engaged to one. Beautiful, ambitious. A woman who’d said yes to matrimony in the heat of passion and dumped him in the light of day, wanting more than a small-town sheriff could offer.
From then on, he’d been careful and selective in his partners, entering only into short-term relationships where they both understood the rules.
Women were intrigued by his body and looks, turned on—but that was it. Gauging a woman’s passions had never been his problem.
Getting them to stay or commit had been.
But now he found himself in a situation where he was the one who didn’t know the rules. He might just be in over his head.