But then neither of them spoke, neither of them got out the words that Melinda herself couldn’t find a way to say. All three of them ended up just standing there in a row, staring mutely down at the little velvet box, the twin gold bands and the single diamond twinkling inside.
“Cole,” Preston said. “You go on now. You put the rings on the hand of your bride.”
Melinda turned her head, met Cole’s eyes. She saw him swallow. And then his mouth became a flat, determined line.
He looked at his father. “Dad...”
Melinda realized he was going to do it: tell the truth that she hadn’t managed to make herself reveal.
Annie must have known, too. She let out a small cry.
And Melinda couldn’t bear it. She grabbed Cole’s hand. He flinched at her abruptness, but didn’t pull away, only gaped at her in disbelief as she passed him the ring box.
“Yes, darling,” she said softly. “It’s only right that you should be the one to put them on me for the first time.”
Chapter Twelve
Cole’s eyes changed. The shock left them. They burned as bright as his father’s—but with a different kind of light. A hot light. And a dangerous one.
Playing with matches again, Melinda thought numbly. Still, she didn’t pull her hand away, only continued to hold it there, until he took it and carefully, tenderly, slipped on the two rings.
“Ah,” sighed Preston. “Good.”
Melinda gulped. She couldn’t stop looking at Cole. And he couldn’t look away from her. Heat seemed to arc in the air between them.
“I knew they would fit,” the old man said, satisfied.
And then he said more.
Much more. He told them that he thought it was time he moved downstairs. He would take his son’s rooms; Cole and Melinda would have his. Cole was the man of the house, now, after all. He had a wife—and a baby who would make good use of the old nursery.
As soon as they got back downstairs, Annie grabbed Melinda and hugged her. “Thank you, thank you...”
Melinda pulled away. “I have to be out of my mind. This is wrong...”
“Oh, Melinda. No. It’s right. Very, very right. And it won’t be for long. He already seems so much better than what Cole described to me. Did you hear him? Talking about goin’ to church. Has he done that since the stroke?” She glanced toward her brother, who stood a few feet away, a distant, unreadable expression on his face. “Cole? Has he?”
“No, he hasn’t.”
“See? He’s happy. Really happy. And that will make him want to work to get stronger.”
“But what happens in a few days?” Melinda asked.
“A few days?”
“Yes Annie.” Melinda spoke with strained patience. “A few days. You know, when we tell him the truth?”
Annie’s eyes slid away. “Well, I think we should wait a week, at least.”
“A week?” Melinda silently called herself several unpleasant names. She’d demanded the chance to set things right—and then blown it royally. “We can’t keep up a fiction like this for a week.”
“Yes, we can.”
“Annie. We’re not in a vacuum here. Even if you can keep your father from figuring out the truth, what are we going to say to other people? Are we going to tell all of Bluebonnet, Texas, that Cole and I are married and we have a baby boy? That will look just wonderful—when I disappear and my baby starts calling you ‘Mom.’”
“We don’t have to tell anybody. We can...keep to ourselves for a week. It won’t be that hard—and don’t look at me like that. I will tell Dad the truth. I promise you. One week from today. It’s gonna work out just fine. Cole can have Dad’s bedroom and you can stay in the guest room, just like you are now. And we’ll all be upstairs, with Dad down here where he can use the living room—and sit at the table with us at mealtimes.”
“And where he’s far enough away from Brady’s room that he won’t notice the details,” Cole added flatly, “like who he cries for when he’s hungry.”
Annie beamed. “Exactly.”
Cole was not smiling.
Annie let out a small, impatient groan. “Oh, come on. Look on the bright side. Dad thinkin’ you two are married is good in more ways than one. He never would have agreed to change bedrooms with you otherwise.”
Cole muttered grudgingly, “Maybe not.”
“Maybe not?” Annie huffed. “Maybe not?”
“All right. He’s agreed to change rooms because he thinks I have a family now—but you still haven’t answered Melinda’s question.”
“What question?” Annie was all innocence.
“What’s Dad gonna say when he finds out he’s been tricked?”
Annie pursed up her mouth. “I don’t know if I like that word, tricked.”
“Don’t you get righteous here, Annie girl. We all know what we did. Pretendin’ we didn’t isn’t gonna change it. What are you gonna say when he asks you what happened with Jimmy?”
“He’s not gonna ask me. He doesn’t want to even think about Jimmy, and you know that very well.”
“He’s still not going to like it when he finally learns the truth.”
“Well, all right. So he won’t like it. But by the time he does find out, he’ll be all settled in down here. And he’ll have realized that he does like not bein’ trapped in his room all the time.”
Cole did not look reassured. Melinda knew just how he felt.
“Come on, you two,” Annie insisted. “It’s all gonna be just fine—and I think we’d better move him right away, before he has a chance to change his mind.”
Cole nodded. “All right. That does make sense. I’ve got to work tomorrow, but I’ll make a few calls. See if I can get a couple of men out first thing in the morning—to move my things upstairs and settle Dad in down here. We can see about having those permanent rails installed in the tub. Maybe even put in a ramp by the front steps.”
“Good idea.” Annie fairly glowed with eagerness. “We’ll get him moved down here immediately. That’s the best thing.”
Melinda reiterated, “One week, Annie. Swear to me. Next Thursday, no matter what, you will tell your father that Brady is yours...and that I’m not his daughter-in-law, after all.”
Annie made a show of crossing her heart. “Hope to die. I will do it. A week from today.”
A few minutes later, Cole left to drop off the trailer. When he returned, they ate a simple dinner, after which Annie carried a tray upstairs to Preston. Cole began gathering the dirty dishes from the table.
Melinda stood. “I’ll do those.”
He stopped halfway to the counter, a serving bowl in one hand and his own empty plate in the other. “There’s no need.”
“Cole, I really don’t mind. And I’ll bet you have a thousand things you need to check on right about now.”
He studied her for a long moment. Something that might have been regret etched his features and darkened his eyes. She felt the rings on her hand, his mother’s rings, remembered the dangerous way he had looked at her just before he slipped them on.
Man and wife, she thought For a week.
But not really, she told herself. Really, it meant nothing, except to Preston Yuma. They would...behave affectionately, when Preston was near. They should be able to handle that.
It wasn’t as if they had to share a bed.
Still, by tomorrow, or the next day, Cole would have moved into the room upstairs, the room next to hers, the room with the connecting door....
From the travel playpen, which Annie had set up in the corner before they started dinner, Brady let out a small, gurgling coo.
Cole glanced toward the sound. “This is one harebrained scheme we’ve got goin’ here, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” She sighed. “I suppose so.”
“I’m sorry we got you into this.”
She lifted a shoulder, let it drop. “You didn’t. Not really. I had my chance to back out and I didn’t take it.”
“We sh
ouldn’t have put you in the position where you needed a chance to back out. And I still really don’t see how this crazy lie is going to help my dad at all.”
“Unfortunately I agree with you about that.”
“So why are we doing it?”
They said the word together, sharing a resigned smile: “Annie.”
Cole added, “Someday we’re gonna have to learn to tell her no.”
We. She shouldn’t have liked the sound of that so much.
She took the plate and the bowl from him. “Go on. I’m sure you want to get over to that hospital of yours.”
“Yeah,” he admitted, “I really should go take a look around, find out what disasters need fixing.”
“Then do it.”
He took his hat off the peg on the wall. Pausing to salute her with it, he turned and went out the back door.
The next morning, two men arrived at nine o’clock, long after Cole and the other two vets who worked with him had driven off in the vans they used to make rounds of the local ranches.
The workmen spent the morning installing rails in the downstairs bathtub and adding a ramp onto the front porch. Cole came back for lunch, gave his approval to the work they’d done and left again at a little after one.
It took them an hour and a half, under Annie’s quite capable supervision, to move all the furniture up and down the stairs. Melinda and Annie worked with the vacuum cleaner and a box of dusting rags, making sure both rooms were thoroughly cleaned. Melinda even took a can of cleanser and a scrub brush and attacked the bathrooms until they shone.
Annie teased her, “You’re gonna wreck your nails.”
Melinda shrugged. “I’ll treat myself to a nail wrap when I get back to L.A.”
By late afternoon, Preston had been installed in his new quarters and all of Cole’s things had been hauled up to the master suite.
Preston didn’t join them for dinner that night. Cole warned Annie, “Don’t expect too much too soon. He spills things. And he hates that.”
“He will eat at the table,” Annie said firmly. “Eventually he will.”
Neither Cole nor Melinda argued with her. They both hoped she was right.
After dinner, Cole went back over to the hospital. There were a couple of animals he wanted to look in on. He didn’t return until nine. Melinda was in her room by then, sitting in the wing chair by the window, filing down her ruined nails and now and then glancing outside, where swift, small shadows darted through the nearly dark sky.
“Bats.” It was Cole, standing in the door she’d left open to the landing. The lame one-eared German Shepherd sat panting happily at his feet. “They come out of their hiding places to bunt insects at night.”
She set her emery board on the table by her chair. “They have bats in Wyoming, too, you know.”
He leaned in the doorway. “Oh, do they?”
She grimaced in distaste. “Once one got caught in my hair. I screamed. The ranch hands all laughed.”
“City girl”
“That’s right.”
She thought that he looked tired. “Long day?”
“Yeah. And another one comin’ up tomorrow.”
“But tomorrow’s Saturday.”
“Tell that to all the animals on the ranches around here. We always keep one vet on call for Saturday and one for Sunday—and he generally has plenty to do. I’ll take both days this week, to give Oscar and Randy a break.”
“Those are the other two vets who work with you?”
“Yep. Oscar Rendquist and Randy Braun.” He pulled himself away from the door frame. “Well, better go in and see what my new room looks like.”
“It’s clean, I can promise you that. But you still have to decide where you want to put the furniture.”
“Later,” he said wearily. “Right now, as long as I can fall into the bed—”
“It’s not that bad.” She stood. “I’ll bet in a half an hour, with another pair of hands to help, you can have everything right where you want it.”
He tipped his head and looked at her. “You volunteering?”
“Sure. Why not?”
For a moment, she thought he might refuse her offer. But then he said, “All right. Come on then.”
He led the way around the wide landing that surrounded the stairs, with Melinda right behind and the dog in the rear. In the master bedroom, the dog found a comfortable spot near the door, flopped down and put his head on his paws.
Cole and Melinda set to work. They put the bed on the south wall, between the two big windows, and the chairs and small sofa at the end of the room, where another window looked out over the front yard. The bureau fit neatly on the wall right next to the door that led to Melinda’s room. And they set Cole’s desk up between his twin oak bookcases, not far from the exit to the stair landing.
“Now I just have to figure out what to do with the stereo.” The stereo consisted of a number of components in an oak cabinet, two speakers and a glassed-in case with four shelves full of CDs.
Melinda brushed a lock of hair off her cheek and looked around, considering. “Maybe in the sitting area. You could put it at the end of the couch and then—”
“I’ll figure it out tomorrow night.” He shot her a speculative look. “Maybe you’ll help me.”
It felt like a challenge somehow—but she was careful to shrug it off. “Maybe I will.”
A silence. They both knew there was nothing more to do. She should go back to her own room, and let him get some sleep. He’d be up hours before dawn, long gone in his van before she and Annie went downstairs and started getting breakfast ready for themselves and for Preston.
She heard herself ask, “What have you got in that CD case?”
“Strictly country.” The implication was clear: nothing that would interest a city girl like you.
She felt a silly urge to counter his preconceived notions of her. “I like country.”
“I’ll bet.”
“I do. Some of it, anyway.”
“Like what?”
“Randy Travis. Willie Nelson. They both sound so... sweet. And sincere.”
“Sweet.” He was teasing her. “Sweet and sincere.”
“There’s something to be said for those things. Even a girl from New York City knows that.”
Something gleamed in his eyes—a lambent flame. “She does?”
“Yes. She does.”
He took a step toward her. “You hungry for a little sweetness, Melinda?”
It was more than he should have said. It pushed the already risky conversation over the line, made it way too intimate.
“I...should go,” she said nervously. But she stayed right where she was.
About five feet of braided rug now lay between them. Cole eliminated that space in two long strides. He looked down into her eyes, the flame in his calling to her, hollowing her out, igniting memories—of the two of them, in her kitchen the night Brady was born. The scent of coffee brewing. And the scent of him, the heat of him, too close to deny.
“Why did you come in here with me, Melinda?” The words were soft, but they held a clear challenge.
She rushed to defend herself. “I... wanted to help you. To get your room arranged.”
He captured her hand—the one with his mother’s rings on it. “You’ve been helpin’ a lot around here. Maybe too much...” His fingers caressed her filed-down nails.
Her chest felt tight. Her pulse had accelerated dangerously. “I...I don’t mind helping. Honestly.”
He released her hand—and lightly cupped her chin. His thumb whispered across her lower lip, which trembled in response. “I remember the way your mouth tastes.”
She stared at him, wide-eyed, wondering why she was letting him say these things to her. “Cole, don’t—”
He put his thumb across her lips again, silencing her. “Fact is, I’m gettin’ tired of pretending I don’t want to taste it again. I think maybe you’re gettin’ tired of pretending yourself.” He dropped
his hand away. “Am I wrong?”
She should answer him, she knew it. Should say clearly and firmly, Yes, you are wrong.
But what was the point of that? It would mean nothing. Less than nothing, since it would be a blank lie and he would know it as such.
He spoke so softly, his voice a verbal caress. “The taste of your mouth isn’t the only thing. I think about other things I shouldn’t. I think about...that door over there. The one between your room and this one. Have you thought about that door, too?” She didn’t answer immediately, couldn’t answer immediately. Her heart rushed the blood through her body in sharp, hard bursts. Desire pooled in the center of her, then spread out, to flow down her thighs, along her arms....
He asked again, “Have you?”
She nodded, though she shouldn’t have. But she couldn’t stop herself, couldn’t tell the lies she should have told, couldn’t turn away.
“Maybe we were both thinkin’ about that door just a little, when we went along with this scheme of Annie’s. Both thinkin’ how easy it would be, to get to each other. How, with me in this room and you in that one, we could do whatever we wanted to do. And nobody else would have to know.” His gaze seemed to probe more deeply into hers.
Soft and helplessly, beneath the insistent pounding of her traitorous heart, she heard herself sigh.
He continued, relentless as the roaring in her blood. “You wouldn’t want Annie to know, would you? Wouldn’t want to tell her that what you felt for her brother was something too strong to deny—but not strong enough to last for a lifetime?”
She closed her eyes, not wanting to look at him, not wanting to have to admit that what he had just said was way too true.
Tenderly he whispered, “I’m not accusin’ you, Melinda. Not judgin’ you. Don’t think I am. I only know what’s in your mind because it’s in my mind, too. Come on. Come on, look at me.” She opened her eyes again.
His eyes were waiting. “Maybe it’s what you said that night at your house. Maybe it can’t go anywhere. Maybe you’ve got things you have to figure out about your life. And maybe I’ve got more here to hold me than I could ever turn my back on. Maybe this is just a campfire, not a home fire. You know?”
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