by Ann Roth
“We don’t want the same things. I see myself married someday. You prefer the single life. I want kids. You may end up with one, but only because of a drunken mistake.”
“See, I think we have a lot in common. We like each other. We can talk about all kinds of stuff, even if we disagree, and enjoy the conversation. And the sex is dynamite,” he added in a low, sexy voice while he ran the pad of his thumb over her bottom lip.
Delicious shivers eddied through her. Just when she was about to melt into a puddle of need, his eyes narrowed and he dropped his hand. “But the real issue here is that you’re running away from me, just like you did before.”
Sarah scoffed. “I don’t run away from people. As I already explained, I finished my research early, both this time and before. It didn’t make any sense for me to stick around then, and it doesn’t now.”
“So you snuck away without a word. Then you ignored every one of my calls, texts and emails. You were afraid of getting involved with me then, and you’re just as afraid now.”
That he saw through her so easily scared her a little. “You never wanted a relationship—just sex. I understand, and I thought I could handle that, but I was wrong.”
He went very still, his expression impossible to read. “You’re saying you want a relationship with me?”
Oh, crap, she should’ve kept that to herself. She stood up. “Please, let me go inside while I still have a shred of self-respect left.”
Clay pushed to his feet, wincing. His leg probably hurt. He caught hold of her hand and cleared his throat.
“I have feelings for you, Sarah. Sexual feelings, but also something more.” He swallowed as if nervous. “I’ll be honest—I’m not sure where any of it will lead. But if you’re game, I’d like to find out.”
Words she’d never imagined hearing and wasn’t sure she trusted. Clay, wanting to explore his feelings for her? Who knew where that might lead? Wary, she frowned. “But I’m leaving.”
“True, but over the next few months I’ll be traveling around, introducing myself and my new business to rodeo owners across the West. It just so happens that Boise is one of the cities on my list. In fact, I’ll be there a lot. Let me see you when I’m in town.”
He was asking her to take a huge risk, a risk that could end up hurting her even more than she hurt now. She bit her lip. “I need to think about it.”
“You do that.”
He kissed her lightly on the mouth. Just enough that her mind emptied and her body began to hum.
All too soon, he let her go. “I’ll let you know about the paternity test. Travel safe, and expect a call from me soon.”
Chapter Eighteen
Early Friday evening Clay grabbed a beer, propped his leg on a couple of pillows and called Sarah. His first call to her since she’d left town.
“Hello?” she asked, sounding distracted.
“It’s Clay, checking to see if you made it home.”
“Hi,” she said, the warmth in her voice indicating that she was pleased to hear from him. “I made it without a hitch. I drove straight through, and got in late Tuesday night.”
“Sounds like a long day.”
“Thirteen-plus hours of driving. How are you?”
Where to begin? “It’s been a rough few days,” he said. “The rain started Tuesday night and didn’t stop until a few hours ago. The river that cuts through the ranch overflowed, and my crew and I worked pretty much 24/7 to keep the damage to a minimum.”
His leg hurt like hell. He was going to rest it tonight and part of tomorrow.
“That’s awful. Are your cattle okay?”
“We lost two heifers, but the rest are fine.”
“What a shame. I’ll bet you’re tired,” she said.
“Dead on my feet. Right now, I’m sprawled out on the couch, sipping a beer.”
Sarah asked about damage to the ranches she’d visited, and Clay filled her in. “Glad to be home?” he asked.
“To tell you the truth, the house is a little too quiet. I actually miss Mrs. Yancy’s chatter.”
They both laughed, and the conversation wound down. Time to cut to the chase. “Are you gonna let me see you when I come to Boise?”
“When will that be?”
“Not for a couple of weeks.”
She was quiet for so long, he wondered if she’d walked away from the phone.
“I’m still thinking about it,” she finally said.
That didn’t sound good, but was better than a flat-out “no.” Clay wished he could think of a way to convince her that he was serious about exploring the connection between them. Much to his own surprise, he was just as serious about that as the other night.
He decided to leave the subject alone for now. “No problem. How’s the article coming?”
“Not so well. I’ve been struggling with it for hours. I have tons of great information, and I’ve written a rough draft, but it’s pretty flat. It needs something, but I can’t figure out what.”
“Would an interview from Saddlers Prairie’s one and only stock contractor help?”
He heard her breath of surprise. “But I thought... You said you didn’t want to—”
“A man can change his mind.”
“I guess so,” she said, sounding skeptical. “What brought that about?”
“Before, I didn’t trust you. Now, I do,” he admitted, still amazed at that.
“Oh,” she said softly, and he sensed that she was smiling. “Hang on while I grab my recorder and open a new document.”
* * *
“THANK YOU SO much, Clay,” she said when she finished interviewing him a while later. “The article won’t be out for a few months, but I’ll send you a copy. And this time, I swear, I’ll only say nice things about you.”
“You’d better,” Clay teased. If things went the way he wanted them to, she’d put that copy directly into his hands. “I’ll call you again soon.”
* * *
TAKING A BREAK from painting the walls, which was doing wonders for the formerly dingy kitchen, Sarah marveled at all she’d accomplished in the eight days since she’d returned to Boise. The day before yesterday she’d finished the ranching article and emailed it to her editor.
Almost immediately, an editor from a different magazine had asked for an article on small businesses that were succeeding in spite of the tough economic times. Sarah had started researching companies and finding contacts to interview.
She’d also talked with a realtor, purchased paint and painting supplies, rolled up her sleeves and set to work. Painting the whole interior would take several weeks.
If that wasn’t enough, drawers and closets needed emptying, and the basement needed a thorough cleaning. The realtor had also suggested replacing some of the carpeting and a major overhaul on the yard. For that, Sarah had scheduled the carpet layers and hired a landscaping crew. The rest she intended to tackle by herself. If all went well, she’d put the house up for sale in early July, about a month from now.
Which gave her plenty of time to decide if she wanted to live in Saddlers Prairie. Clay called nearly every day, but for some reason Sarah couldn’t explain, she hadn’t mentioned that she planned to move or that she was fixing up the house to sell. She hadn’t given him her answer yet, either. To her relief, he hadn’t pressured her.
Ready to get back to work, she dipped the roller into a tray of paint. Her mind wandered to the past and various boyfriends from high school, college and beyond. Thinking back, she realized she’d always found reasons to break up before things progressed too far—a pattern that had continued right up through Matthew. Months before moving home to take care of Ellen she’d pushed him away, using Ellen’s cancer as an excuse to end the relationship.
Sarah was mulling over her tr
ack record and rolling paint up the wall when a startling realization hit her.
Since her father’s death, she’d been afraid that if she cared too much for a man, he would leave.
She stopped painting. Excess paint from the roller dribbled on her forearm. Absently wiping her arm on her paint-splattered jeans, she marveled at the illogical belief her ten-year-old brain had manufactured. Somehow, she’d never let go of that belief, hadn’t even realized until now that she held it.
Which meant that Clay was right—she had been running away from him. From love.
He’d allowed her to interview him because he trusted her. Maybe it was time to set her fears aside and trust him—stay invested in their relationship and see what happened.
A relationship with Clay. At that heady thought, she laughed out loud. She definitely wanted to see him again.
Now that she’d made up her mind, she could hardly wait to tell him. She wished she could drive over to his house and talk to him in person, but a call would have to do. She set the roller aside and washed her hands. She was pulling her cell phone from her hip pocket when it rang. Clay showed on the screen.
Grinning, she picked up. “I was just about to call you.”
“No kidding. You sound happy. What’s up?”
“You first.” It was too early for him to break for lunch. There was only one reason why he’d call now. “You got the test results.” Squeezing her eyes shut, she crossed her fingers.
“Yep, and they came out exactly as I suspected—I’m not the father of the baby Angela is carrying. She was trying to get her hands on my money. Believe it or not, she apologized and said she was going to contact the real father.”
Sarah let out a relieved breath. If Clay were here, she’d throw her arms around him. “I hope things works out for her and the baby. I don’t understand people like that.”
“Me, either. Your turn.”
“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about us and what you said the night before I left. You’re right, Clay, I was running away. I don’t want to do that anymore.”
The simple act of telling him made her feel lighter and freer than she could ever remember.
Clay whooped, and she laughed and did a little shimmy.
“There’s more to say, but first, when are you coming to Boise?” she asked.
“Well...” The doorbell chimes cut him off. “Better answer that.”
“Whoever it is can wait.”
The doorbell chimed again, and just kept chiming.
“If I were you, I’d answer that.”
“I will, and believe me, I’m going to give whoever it is a piece of my mind. Hold on.”
Cupping the phone and frowning, Sarah opened the door. Clay stood there, wearing a grin that crinkled his eyes. Her jaw dropped. “What are you doing here? I didn’t expect to see you for at least another week.”
“Gotta hang up now,” he said, slipping his phone into his pocket.
She barely had time to stuff her own phone away before he pulled her close and kissed her.
When he let her go, Sarah felt breathless and dazed. “I got paint on your jeans,” she managed.
“I have plenty more pairs at home. I’m here because I couldn’t wait another week to see you. We need to talk. Let’s go inside.”
* * *
CLAY PUT HIS arm around Sarah, keeping her close. If all went well, he would never let her go. Sometime during the night he’d finally made sense of his strong feelings for her.
For the first time in his life, he was in love.
He loved Sarah.
Finally he understood what all the fuss was about. Yet, as good as he felt, she might not want his love. Baring his soul to her was risky, but a risk he needed to take.
“By my clothes, the mess in here and the paint fumes, you probably guessed that I’m fixing up the house,” she said. “It’s going to look so much better.”
So she wanted to live here. Clay’s heart sank. That put a big crimp in his plans. But they could work things out. “You got paint on your face, too,” he pointed out, touching her forehead and the tip of her nose.
“Oh, great,” she muttered. “Getting that off should be fun. Painting isn’t exactly my favorite job, but the realtor says that if I want the best price for this place, I need to spruce it up.”
“You’re selling,” he said, feeling a lot better.
She nodded. “This was Ellen’s house. I’m ready to let it go and start fresh.”
“Any idea where you’ll live?” He sucked in a breath.
“That all depends. I’d like to be closer to my grandparents, but I don’t want you to think I’m chasing after you.” Her eyes twinkled.
He broke into a grin. “You don’t have to chase me—I’m already yours.”
“Am I hearing correctly? Mr. I Don’t Do Serious has changed his—”
Clay shut her up with another kiss, this one longer and hotter than the one at the door. He wanted to pull her into the bedroom, but not until he said what he needed to say.
“Hey, come back here,” she said when he broke contact.
“All in good time. We need to talk.”
“That’s right. I haven’t finished telling you what I wanted to say.” She swallowed nervously and locked her hands at her waist. “I made a decision about us.”
Clay’s heart stopped dead in his chest.
“I’m with you—I think we should definitely see where this relationship goes,” she said.
It wasn’t exactly a declaration of love, but it was a start. He blew out a breath and decided to go for broke. “We need to talk more about that. Is there someplace we can go where the fumes aren’t so toxic?”
The light in her eyes faded into worry. “There’s a patio table on the back porch.”
Sarah led him to a screened porch at the back of the house. As he sat down across the table, she gave him a dirty look.
“Don’t you dare tell me you changed your mind.”
Clay chuckled. “That’s one of the things I love about you—you’re not afraid to say what you’re thinking.”
This was it, the moment of truth. He cleared his throat. “Now it’s my turn. I never figured I’d fall in love. Then you walked into my life with your attitudes and opinions and your strength and intelligence. You turned my world upside down, and I love you for it. I love you, period, Sarah Tigarden.”
She blinked, and a soft smile curved her lips. “You know something, Clay? We really are a lot alike. Because I love you, too. I think I have since I first met you three years ago.”
Suddenly Clay was on top of the world. He felt better than he had after winning his first championship. His chest full to bursting, he stood and held out his hands. “Let me show you what I think of that.”
He kissed her with all the love inside him.
Releasing the sweet sigh that was forever branded on his soul, she sank against him. And he was home. He wanted her so badly his knees threatened to buckle. “Where’s the bedroom?” he asked.
Linking her fingers through his, she led him up the stairs. “I don’t use Ellen’s room, and I should warn you, my bed is pretty small.”
“That’ll work.”
Later, when they were both sated and Sarah lay curled at his side, she lifted her head. “Will you help me find a place to live in Saddlers Prairie?”
“Yeah, but I don’t think you should buy.”
“Why not?”
Because if things worked out the way he hoped, she’d be moving in with him. He traced her beautiful face with his finger. “It’s a good idea to keep your options open. You know, in case things work out between us and we end up married.”
She smiled. “I like the way you think, cowboy.”
Epilogue
>
Three years later
“Wake up, honey,” Clay murmured, touching Sarah’s shoulder. “Your grandparents and Mrs. Yancy are downstairs.”
Groggy from a much-needed nap, Sarah lurched up. “But I haven’t dressed the twins—”
“I managed that—with some help from my mom and sister. In fact, I dressed them each twice. You don’t want to know what happened the first time. Let’s just say, those clothes are now in the wash.”
Sarah laughed and thanked her lucky stars for a husband as wonderful as Clay, and for his special family, who accepted her as one of their own. His whole extended family had arrived while she was in labor, and had been among the first to welcome Olivia Tamara and Jayden Clay Hollyer to the world.
A few days later, the men and Clay’s aunt and nieces had returned to Billings, leaving his mom, sister and both grandmothers here for two awesome weeks. They’d been a great help, making Sarah’s suddenly hectic and demanding life easier.
She stood. Frowning, she smoothed her sleep-wrinkled clothes. “I’d better change.”
“You’re fine.” Clay tipped up her chin. “I love you very much.” He kissed her softly.
As always, she melted against him. When she came up for air, she cupped his strong jaw, gazed into his warm eyes and smiled. “I love you, too, but we both know that I still have twenty-five pounds to lose.”
“You look perfect to me. Remember what Dr. Mark said. Nursing will burn off any excess weight in no time—especially with the hearty appetites our babies have.”
“Just like their daddy.”
As exhausted as Sarah was, she wouldn’t change a thing about her life. Clay, the babies, his thriving business, their gorgeous, custom-built home. The friends she’d made, living on the ranch. She had everything she’d ever dreamed of, and more.
And it had all started with Ellen’s secret and the search for Tammy Becker. “Thank you, Ellen,” she whispered.
“What was that?” Clay asked.
“I’m just so thankful for you and what we have together.” Sarah took his hand. “Let’s go downstairs.”