by Duarte, Judy
“I like being outdoors for the very same reason, although I haven’t fished since I was in my late teens. Maybe that’s why I enjoy working on the ranch. I love the fresh air, the sunshine.”
“Is that why you moved from the city?”
“That’s part of it.” Unwilling to give her a opening to quiz him about his other reasons, he added, “This is a great place to live.”
She rested her hand along the top of her pregnant belly. “Some people might argue with you there.”
Was she talking about herself?
Probably.
“I guess there are those who like more glitz and glamour in their lives,” he said. “More culture.”
She seemed to ponder his comment a moment. “I had that kind of life once, and for the most part, it was nice while it lasted. But I gave it all up without any reservations so I wouldn’t have to deal with Thomas’s lies and infidelity.”
Shane could understand that.
“I’m the first and only one in the Hollister family to get a divorce,” he admitted, “so it wasn’t easy when Marcia and I finally decided to call it quits. But sometimes two pleasant and personable people make a lousy couple.”
He tossed a casual glance Jillian’s way, saw her leaning back in a relaxed pose, their baby front and center.
When she caught his gaze, he said, “You know what I mean?”
She nodded.
“I was a far cry from the perfect husband,” he added. “And the men in my family have always had a tendency to raise their voices when angry. But I wouldn’t have cheated.”
Her brow knit, as though she wasn’t sure if she believed him. Or maybe she was just giving his revelation some thought. After all, he hadn’t shared the details of his divorce with her before, although he was glad he finally had.
Still, he thought it was a good idea to add, “When I make a vow or give my word, it means something.”
She looked out at the lake for a moment, then turned her attention back to him. “I’m glad to hear that. My mom never married my dad, but my grandparents taught me the meaning of love, commitment and family. It was a painful eye-opener to learn that not everyone is able to keep that kind of promise to a spouse.”
“I guess, in a sense, we were both disillusioned by someone we considered a lifetime partner.”
A pair of mallard ducks—one male, the other female—quacked as they flew overhead, then landed on the water.
“In your case,” Jillian began, “who filed for divorce?”
He wasn’t sure why that mattered to her. Maybe because she was trying to determine if he was a quitter.
He wasn’t, although there were a few people in his family who never understood why he’d walked away from the HPD. But he’d had his reasons.
“My wife was the one who filed, although, by that time, I was ready to throw in the towel, too.”
Shane studied the ducks, wondering if the feathered mates had as much trouble getting along and sticking together as some humans did.
“Did your ex-wife ever remarry?”
“Yes, she did. And I think she’s better off now. She found someone who was more her style. He also has a nine-to-five job that’s safe.”
“I can see where she’d worry about you while you were out on patrol.”
Shane tensed for a moment, remembering the unfounded accusations Marcia had often thrown at him, then chuffed. “I think her biggest fear was that I was away from home so much, that I would screw around on her.”
“And you honestly didn’t cheat?”
He’d already told her that he hadn’t, but since her faith in the male species had been seriously undermined, thanks to the jerk she’d married, Shane didn’t take offense when she challenged his honesty.
“No,” he said, “I didn’t cheat.”
Okay, so his tone had betrayed him. He had been a little offended, after all.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to imply you weren’t telling me the truth.”
“I guess that’s the result of having a spouse lie and cheat.” He removed his Stetson and placed it on the grass beside him. “For what it’s worth, I don’t plan to make any of the same mistakes again, either. If I ever remarry, it’ll be to a woman who’s happy with my line of work, whatever that is.”
“Does that mean you don’t plan to be a cowboy the rest of your life?”
“I’m not sure. But that’s not the point. I think couples need to be a team.”
“I agree.”
They continued to sit there, locked in silence. Then she turned again. This time her knee brushed his—taunting him with her touch, with her nearness.
“Do you think you’ll ever move back to Houston?” she asked.
“Only for visits. Sometimes I miss my job. I was very good at what I did. But I’m happy with my life here. Things are more laid-back, more real.”
As the silence stretched between them again, Shane glanced at his watch and noted the time.
“Are you ready for lunch?” he asked. “Actually, I am getting a little hungry.”
“Then let’s go.” He grabbed his hat, got to his feet, then reached out to help her up.
The feel of her hand in his was enough to make him rethink his stance about living in Brighton Valley permanently—if it meant a relationship was completely out of the question. There was something about Jillian that made him wonder if things could be different, that made him want them to be.
As they headed back to the parking lot to get the cooler, they approached the playground, where several local families had gathered to spend a few hours with their kids.
They’d yet to pass by it when Jillian reached for Shane’s arm and pulled him to a stop. Her fingers gripped his flesh—not hard—but with enough emotion to cause his blood to warm and his heart to race.
When he turned toward her, their gazes locked.
“Let’s watch the kids play for a while,” she said. “Do you mind?”
Yeah, he minded. The last time he’d been with Joey, he’d driven to Marcia’s house and got to spend the afternoon with him. They’d gone to get lunch at Mc-Donald’s, then to the park.
But if spending time by the playground convinced Jillian that she’d like to bring their baby here to play in the sand or on the swing set, then he’d agree.
He nodded toward an empty bench. “There’s a place to sit over there.”
After they’d settled into their seats, Jillian pointed to a mommy showing her preschool-age girl how to blow dandelion seeds in the air. “Isn’t that sweet?”
But Shane’s gaze went beyond the woman and child to the daddy helping his chubby-legged toddler climb the slide, taking care to follow the boy up each step.
He turned his face away, looking for a bird, a tree, a rock—anything that he could focus on so she wouldn’t see the crushing grief in his eyes.
“Is something wrong?” she asked.
Would Jillian understand if he told her about Joey, about how he’d died? How Shane had blamed himself somehow, even though he hadn’t been in the car that day, hadn’t been the one behind the wheel?
She reached out and touched his hand, sending a warm, healing balm to his bones.
“I…uh…” He cleared his throat, yet his voice retained a husky tone. “My wife and I had a son. A baby boy.”
Her fingers probed deeper on his hand, gentle but firm. “What happened?”
“He…was killed in a car accident.” Shane cleared his throat again, yet he couldn’t seem to shake the rusty, cracked sound in his voice. “My, uh…his mother was driving, and Joey was in the car seat in back when she hit a patch of ice and fishtailed into the path of a semitruck.”
“I’m so sorry, Shane,” Jillian said softly. “I don’t know what to say.”
“I…” He cleared his throat for a third time. “I took it pretty hard.”
“I can’t even imagine what you’ve been through.”
“Yeah. It was tough.” He blew out a tattered s
igh. “And I wish that I would have handled it differently.”
She brushed her thumb across the top of his hand, grazing the skin near his wrist as if trying to offer what little comfort she could.
“I’d expected the overwhelming pain and sadness,” he said, “but I hadn’t been prepared for the anger.”
“I think that’s only natural. And part of the grieving process.”
He shrugged. “I was upset with my ex-wife and said some things I shouldn’t have. She was devastated by Joey’s death, too, and didn’t need me to lash out at her like I did.”
“People say things when they’re hurting that they don’t always mean.”
“That’s the problem. I meant them. And I still do. I just wish I hadn’t said anything out loud.”
“What did you say?”
“I resented her for moving out, for not trying to make the marriage work for Joey’s sake. And when he died, I blamed her, saying it was all her fault. And not just because she’d been driving the car, but because she’d taken him away from me, and I’d missed out on the last three months of his life.”
He turned his hand to the side, taking hers with it and clutching her in a warm, desperate grip. “I’m sorry for rambling.”
Her words came out in a soft whisper. “You didn’t ramble.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t usually talk about it.”
“Maybe you should.”
“You might be right.”
Yet even though he’d finally said it, Jillian didn’t leave it alone. “How long has it been?”
“About a year ago. It’s still hard.”
“How long have you and his mother been divorced?”
“It’s been final for about five months. Joey’s death sort of slowed the legal process. Neither one of us was really able to deal with anything for a while.”
Jillian didn’t say a word. Instead, she continued to hold his hand, to offer comfort. And for a moment, he accepted it.
She might sympathize with him, but she’d never understand what he’d dealt with, thanks to Marcia’s refusal to compromise.
Did she realize that now, after spilling his guts, that he feared grieving for two children—a son he’d lost through death and a baby he’d yet to meet?
What if Jillian refused to let him be a part of their son or daughter’s life? What if she, like Marcia, hooked up with someone else and moved away?
As unsettling as that thought was, he couldn’t help but think that Jillian would probably be better off with a guy who could provide all the nicer things in life—a guy who wasn’t a cowboy or a cop. And that fact didn’t sit any better.
After all, Jillian had said the same thing Marcia had once told him. Babies belong with their mothers.
All right. Maybe they did. That’s the reason he’d stood by and watched Marcia take Joey from him in the first place.
What would stop Jillian from doing the same thing?
Was it any wonder he was torn between insisting that Jillian let him be a part of the new baby’s life and letting go before his heart had the chance to break all over again?
Chapter Eight
As Jillian listened to Shane’s heartfelt disclosure and gazed into his watery eyes, something frail and broken peered out at her, clenching her heart.
A wave of sympathy surged from her womb to her throat, making it difficult to breathe, let alone respond. So she took his hand, trying to connect with him on some level, trying to ease his pain.
He wrapped his fingers around hers, clutching her in a warm, desperate grip. At the intimacy they’d broached, at the strength of their bond, her pulse raced and her emotions soared in a hundred different directions.
There was nothing she could say to ease the pain he’d suffered. And now that it lay before them, there was no way to roll back time, to go back to the carefree day they’d been having—the warmth of the sunshine, the birds chirping overhead, the children laughing…
Jillian hadn’t meant to stir up his sorrow when she’d asked about his son, and as a result, she felt somehow to blame for his sadness, for the tears he struggled to hold back. The only thing she could think to do was to thread her fingers through his, tightening their connection.
Clearly, sitting by the playground, watching the happy children and families at play, was just making things worse.
“Come on,” she said as she stood and drew him to his feet. “Let’s go back to the truck and get the cooler.”
They returned to the picnic area in silence, joined together by more than their clasped hands.
She kept the conversation light while they ate lunch, something she continued to do on the drive back to his apartment. Yet even though they’d managed to maintain upbeat subjects, her thoughts were lugged down by the heart-wrenching disclosure.
Shane had said he hadn’t taken his son’s death very well. Had he fallen apart? Found it difficult to put one foot in front of the other and make it through the day?
That’s the way Jillian had felt, after she’d first learned of Thomas’s affairs. But there was no comparison. Losing a baby would have been unspeakably worse.
Once they were back at his place, Jillian went through the motions of making dinner. Then they’d topped off the tasty meal—baked chicken, rice pilaf and broccoli—with ice cream sundaes.
On the outside, they’d both forgotten about Joey, about the grief and sadness. But she suspected it was something that would always be buried in Shane’s heart, ready to erupt at any time.
After they washed the dishes, he asked, “How about a movie?”
“Good idea.”
Twenty minutes later, Jillian and Shane sat on the sofa, watching an action-adventure flick. Jillian had forgotten the name of it, since she didn’t normally like much violence. But this one wasn’t too bad.
He’d asked her to choose the movie they were going to watch, and she felt that it was only fair to opt for something he might like—something that would get his mind off kids and families.
For a moment, she’d wondered if Shane’s move from Houston to Brighton Valley had been some kind of escape for him, too.
Maybe. But it didn’t explain him assaulting a suspect in his custody. Though, to be honest, she had yet to see any sign of temper or mean streak in him. Ever since she’d met him, he’d been nothing but sweet and thoughtful.
She tried to focus on the television screen, where bullets continued to fly and ricochet off brick walls, where the good guy was surrounded by the bad guys. When she glanced at Shane, she saw that he had leaned forward, caught up in the tension created by a Hollywood gunfight. But Jillian just couldn’t lose herself in the story or the action.
Finally, when things were headed for a showdown of one kind or another, she stood. “I’m going to take a shower, if you don’t mind.”
“Now?” he asked. “You’ll miss the ending.”
She smiled, not at all concerned about that. “I have a feeling it’s going to all work out just fine.”
And, if luck was in their favor, real life would offer them that same guarantee.
Thirty minutes later, Jillian returned to the living room, wearing a pale blue robe over a white cotton gown. Her hair was wrapped in a towel turban, and her feet were bare.
Shane had been watching a baseball game on ESPN, but he reached for the remote, more interested in the beautiful woman standing before him, the woman who threatened to turn his life inside out. So he lowered the volume and gave her his full attention.
“Are you going to bed now?” he asked.
“I think so.” She bit down on her lip, lifted her hand and fingered the lapel of her robe, clearly nervous.
Was she holding something back? Or trying to build up the courage to spit it out?
Instead of pressing her by asking what was on her mind, he waited until she found the words.
“I’m not sure when you plan to turn in tonight,” she finally said, “but you don’t need to sleep on the couch again. There’s plenty of room f
or you in the bed.”
Shane again reached for the remote, this time shutting off the television completely. “Are you sure about that?”
Her cheeks flushed, and a shy smile crept across her face. “I wasn’t talking about sex, but it certainly won’t hurt for us to sleep in the same bed.”
Shane wouldn’t argue with her there, and while he’d be more than willing—in fact, more than eager—to have sex, he counted her concession as progress just the same.
The way he saw it, sleeping together—even if there wasn’t any sex involved—meant they might be getting closer to working things out between them.
Was she willing to consider having a relationship with him, after all? One that went beyond coparenting?
“I realize that I was the one who wanted to take things slow and to get to know each other better before we consider dating.” She gave a little shrug. “But we took a big step toward intimacy and friendship today, so it seems silly to have you sleep on the couch, all cramped up.”
By intimacy, was she talking about him spilling his guts at the park, getting all teary-eyed and laying open his broken heart for her to see?
In the long run, revealing the details of Joey’s death had probably been cathartic for him, but it also had shown Jillian a weak and vulnerable side of him that he wasn’t proud of having. And one that might have scared off another woman.
Still, he figured they were taking another step in the right direction.
“You don’t have to come to bed now,” she said. “Your side will be waiting for you whenever you’re ready.”
He’d rather hear that she’d be waiting for him, but there was no need to press for more at this point. They had twelve more nights together, which meant that there was still plenty of time for a sexual relationship to bloom.
Their lovemaking had been too good for it not to.
“I’m ready to turn in, too,” he said. “But I’m going to shower first.”
Ten minutes later, Shane entered the bedroom wearing a pair of boxer shorts, even though he usually slept in the raw.
Jillian, who smelled of shampoo, lotion and lilacs, was lying on her side, facing the wall.