After a couple of tense seconds, during which Cal mentally beat back enough testosterone to fuel the sex drive of every man in the state, he stood, then extended his hand to pull Dawn to her feet. "C'mon. Here's one problem I can solve."
* * *
Fifteen minutes later, having bought, not one, but three cans of Pringles from the Git-n-Go and used the bathroom—both of which would have raised Angel Clearwater's penciled brows if her tightly pulled-back hair hadn't already made them an inch higher than normal—Dawn sat with her legs dangling off the lowered gate of Cal's truck, having a scarffest. Without her saying anything, Cal'd pulled off the road to park underneath the whacky old cottonwood where they used to go when they were kids. Split by lightning long before they'd been born, it looked like a huge gray hand, its fingers bent toward the sky. It still put out more leaves than any other tree for miles around, though, the sunlight lancing through the sharp green, casting quivering shadows over the two of them, reminding her of other times. Happy times. Times she wasn't sure she wanted to remember right now.
She hadn't meant to blab about Andrew, especially considering she wasn't exactly proud of her naiveté at having taken the man at face value. And God knows, if Cal hadn't kissed her, she would never have brought up her, um, interest in him. But since he had, she figured she might as well disabuse him of the notion that he could seduce her into coming back to Haven.
"I was really that good, huh?" he said beside her.
She nearly choked. And nodded, since her mouth was full of chips. Just her luck to find the only man in the universe who could read a woman's mind.
"So tell me…" Cal leaned back on one elbow, his hands folded across his hard, flat, definitely yummy tummy. "What is it about New York that would make you sacrifice this—" he swept one hand over his torso "—for that?"
There he went, being just Cal. Charming. Goofy. Making light of things.
Feeling suddenly and unaccountably tetchy, Dawn crammed more chips into her mouth and mumbled something about being sick and tired of everybody equating city dwelling to devil worship.
Chips flew six ways to Sunday when Cal grabbed her wrist. She jerked her head around to see his brows slammed together.
"Maybe I don't understand why anybody'd want to live where you can't go outside without a hundred people shoved up against your butt, but that doesn't mean I think there's anything wrong with people who do. All I did was ask you a simple question." He released her. "Don't go reading things into it that aren't there."
"Sorry," she said softly, wiping her salty fingers on a tissue.
"Bad habit."
"Preemptive strikes?" he said behind her.
She skootched around to rest her back against the truck-bed wall, flipping her skirt out over her legs. "I guess." She sighed.
"I can't even explain it."
Cal looked at her steadily for a long moment, then said, "I'm not looking to judge you. I'm only trying to understand."
"I know that. It's just…"
"Honey? Why don't you try just answering the question?"
His refusal, when they were younger, to let anything get to him used to irritate the life out of her. Now, however, even though his cocksure attitude only reinforced her conviction about how different they were, her battered psyche yearned to inhale his unflappability, like she'd done the Pringles a few minutes ago. Those cool green eyes said, I've got you, it's okay, I won't let you fall. You've got nothing to be afraid of.
If only.
Those eyes, and his goodness, were treacherous. And it finally whapped her over the head that this was possibly her only chance to convince him, once and for all, to let her go.
Not only for her sake, but for his.
"To be truthful," she said, "I didn't know what to expect when I first got there. An eighteen-year-old hick in the big city?" She smiled. "I thought I'd be eaten alive. My first place was a shared room in a cramped apartment with five other roommates, and it took me twenty-four hours to get up the nerve to go out by myself. But within a week I was hooked."
"Why?"
"It's hard to explain if you haven't been there. I mean, in many ways New York is just like any other place, mostly filled with ordinary people going about their ordinary lives, cooking and shopping and doing laundry and eating out."
"There's just a lot more of them."
"Okay, yeah. It's crowded. But there's this…energy that pulses through the city, you know? This sense of possibility, that any second, every second, something exciting could happen."
His mouth curved just enough to show off the dimples. "Even when you're doing your laundry?"
"I didn't say it made sense. And it's not easy living there, don't get me wrong. It's expensive and competitive and, yes, crowded. But God—I can go straight to a major museum from work, or get a half-price ticket to a Broadway show on the spur of the moment. And the music…" She leaned forward, her eyes shining. "The Metropolitan Opera, Cal. Think of that."
He made a face. "That's Hank. Opera's not my thing."
"Okay, fine. The Mostly Mozart Festival, then. The freaking New York Philharmonic. Live. In person. Free concerts in Central Park—"
"You're still not makin' any points here, sweetheart. Although Ryan would be in hog heaven."
"And then there's shopping. Bergdorf's. Barney's. Bloomingdale's."
He just stared at her.
"So maybe that's not working for you, either. But just think—our child would be able to go to some of the world's greatest museums on a regular basis, see shows and go to the ballet and…" She paused. "Wouldn't your mother have been thrilled to know her grandchild would get to hear one of the greatest orchestras in the world on a regular basis?"
Cal pulled himself up to sit across from her, stretching out his legs so she could feel his sun-warmed jeans against her calves. "Did you know she spent a year studying at the Manhattan School of Music?"
"No! Wow. No wonder she was so good."
He got this funny look on his face then, one that made her insides pitch, made her ache to put her arms around him and lay her head on his shoulder and comfort him, somehow. But comforting was what got them into this predicament to begin with. So instead she nudged his hip with her foot. Which was bad enough.
"I know this isn't an ideal situation," she said, talking through, over, around another kind of ache, "but once I make partner, I'll be making pretty good money. And I can work from home at least a couple days a week, if I need to, so I'll be there for our baby. And we'll come back a lot, I promise."
He sat there, silent, staring straight ahead, then suddenly scrambled out of the truck bed, reaching out to help her down, as well.
"Guess I'd better get you back to Ivy's," he said. "Gotta lot of work to do this afternoon."
He said nothing else until he'd deposited her a few minutes later in front of her mother's house, and then only to ask when she was leaving.
"Saturday. Cal—"
"Don't make it worse, okay?" he said, then took off, leaving her standing on the sidewalk feeling like sludge.
Chapter 4
"I can't believe you just let her go."
From the passenger side of Ryan's truck, Cal squinted over at his next oldest brother. Ostensibly, they were out spreading the word about the new clinic. In reality, Cal was using Ryan as a means to finally check up on Elijah, like he'd promised Dawn.
"It's been a week since she left, Ry. This a delayed reaction or what?"
"I've been busy," Ryan said, his dark blond hair sticking up every which way when he removed his cowboy hat and tossed it on the dash. "Besides, I kept thinking you'd come up with some sort of rational explanation on your own without me having to do the big brother routine, which we both know you hate."
"You got that right."
"So?"
"What was I supposed to do? Tie her up?"
Ryan's smile vanished underneath his mustache. "In other words she's the only woman on earth immune to Cal Logan's powers of persuasion
."
"More like she's the only woman I've ever known with enough backbone to stick to her guns about what she needs." Cal squirmed in his seat. Letting somebody else drive bugged the life out of him. "Let me ask you something—you think Mama ever regretted giving up her career?"
Clear-blue eyes flicked in his direction. "She never had a career, remember? She and Dad got married when she was twenty."
"Okay then, a chance at one."
"Okay then. No, I don't. Where are you going with this?"
"I'm not sure. Except listening to Dawn talk about New York got me to wondering about Mama. I used to see her standing at the window, like there was something out there she wanted but couldn't reach. I'm not saying she was unhappy, but…hell, how could she stand it, day after day, listening to some kid murder Mozart or Beethoven, when maybe she could've been famous, you know?"
"And maybe she didn't want to be famous. You ever consider that?"
"Yeah. But I also know her folks couldn't afford to give her more than the one year away. So she came home and became a two-bit farmer's wife instead."
"Because she fell in love, dimwit. And if she'd really wanted to stay in New York, she could have. Leastwise, that's what she told me when I asked one time."
"And what if she was only saying that? Because she didn't want you to feel guilty or something?"
Ryan sighed. "At the risk of pulling rank, I did spend more time with Mama than you did. And I never once got the feeling she wasn't right where she wanted to be, doing what she wanted to do." He paused. "She and Dad had fifteen years together before Hank came along, remember. Seems to me if she thought she'd made a mistake, she had plenty of opportunity to get out. But she didn't, did she? This the turnoff to get to the house?"
"What? Oh. Yeah."
The truck shuddered as the paved surface gave way to pock-marked dirt. "And anyway," Ryan shouted over the truck's bumping and squeaking, "since Dawn's pregnant, which Mom wasn't, seems to me we're talking apples and oranges."
"Maybe so. But baby or no baby, I still can't force her to move back here." He remembered the look on her face when she talked about her work, the city she now called home, and blew out a stream of air. "And to be honest, Dawn can give the kid more than I can right now. From a financial standpoint at least. But only if she stays in New York. If she comes out here, we'd barely have a pot to pee in between the two of us."
Cal caught the frown Ryan tossed his way. "What the hell are you talking about? I thought you were doing okay."
Too late, Cal realized his mistake. "Just a temporary glitch. You know, because of the economy and all. I'm still getting by, though, even if only by the skin of my teeth. But not too many folks're buying pleasure horses right now, so prices have tanked. And I'm still in debt to you and Hank, they raised the damn taxes on me, and…well, let's just say the timing couldn't be worse."
"For crying out loud, Cal—why didn't you say something sooner?"
"Because it's my problem and not yours?"
"Look, if you need help—"
"Which I don't. In case you missed it, Ry, I'm close to thirty years old. I do know what I'm doing, believe it or not. And market fluctuations are part of the business." He fiddled with the radio until he found his favorite R&B station, knowing it would annoy the life out of Ryan. "'Course, I hadn't counted on becoming a father, it's true. That doesn't mean I can't handle…whatever the hell it is I have to handle. Once I figure out what that is."
Ryan was quiet for a second, then said, "Can I make a suggestion, or you gonna jump down my throat?"
"That's a chance you'll just have to take, won't you?"
He chuckled, then said, "You thought about maybe selling up and moving back east, then? I mean, if Dawn won't come here, maybe you could go there." He held up a hand to ward off Cal's protest. "You don't need to finish buying me out. And I'm sure Hank'll feel the same way."
"And while I appreciate that, even if I did, what I'd get for the place wouldn't buy me a vegetable garden there, let alone a stead big enough to start over." At his brother's arched brows, he said, "Hank asked me the same thing, and I said no without a second thought. But then I got to thinking it over, did a little research…but it wouldn't work. So that means I'm stuck. Right here. If I can hang on until the economy gets off its butt, I might be able to salvage the business yet. But there's no way I can start over, let alone anywhere within a hundred-mile radius of Manhattan."
"So back to Plan A."
"Hell, there never was a Plan A. Or a Plan anything. And I was a dumbass to think there ever would be."
They bumped along for another several seconds. "Why not?"
"Why not? Because I've known from the time we were little that Dawn's goals never included staying here. I might have been a convenient buddy to hang out with when we were little, but I was never a part of her long-range plans." He removed his hat, shoved his hand through his hair, screwed the hat back on his head. "Or even her short range, for that matter."
"Well, the two of you sure as hell are part of each other's long-range plans now."
"Only as regards this baby. Nothing more."
After a long moment Ryan said softly, "Maddie was telling me the other night about a conversation the two of you had before she and I were married. About how y'all got to talking about dreams, and she said there was no point in wishing for things that weren't gonna happen. And you said that without dreams, you may as well lay down and die." He paused, then said, "According to her, what you said made her go after me. So if it hadn't've been for you, I'd still be the miserable bastard I was before Maddie showed up in my life…That's the house, right?"
His head buzzing from Ryan's comments, it took Cal a second to realign his thoughts. "Yeah, that's it."
"Doesn't look so bad from here. Nothing fancy, but no law against that."
Ryan pulled up next to the newer of the two pickups, which wasn't saying much. Place looked pretty much the same, except maybe one or two pieces of junk had been moved around. Barking its head off, the dog was still tied to the tree, too, which didn't sit well. Dogs were supposed to be free to explore, go where their noses led. Not giving this one a chance to do that seemed mean.
"You do realize there's not a whole lot I can do," Ryan said over the dog's excited yapping as they got out of the truck.
"Unless there's real signs of abuse or neglect."
"I know that. But honestly? I don't expect to find any. I'm only doing this for Dawn."
Nobody answered the bell at first, but they could hear a TV on inside. On the third try, Elijah finally came to the door, breathing a little hard. He offered a tentative smile for Cal, an even more tentative one for Ryan.
"Hey, Elijah," Cal said. "You know my brother, Dr. Logan?"
The kid warily eyed Ryan. "Yeah…I've seen him around."
Ryan stuck his hands in his back pockets. "We were just in the neighborhood, y'know, getting the word out about the new clinic. You and your daddy know about that?"
"I…I'm not sure he does."
"You mind if we come in, then," Ryan said, "so I can tell your daddy about it in person?"
"He's…he's asleep."
"He sure does sleep a lot, doesn't he?" Cal asked.
Elijah's eyes zinged to his. "It's the medicine he has to take. It makes him real sleepy."
"You know what kind of medication he's on?" Ryan asked.
"No, sir. He keeps the bottle where I can't get it. Like I'm a kid or something—"
"What's goin' on out there, Eli? Who's that at the door?"
The boy jerked, then yelled, "Nobody, Daddy—go on back to sleep." A second later he stepped outside, shutting the door behind him. "Why don't you just go on? Like I said, he's asleep—"
"Does your father drink, son?" Ryan said quietly.
"No!" Wide, mud-colored eyes darted from one to the other. "I told you, it's his medicine! You just came at a bad time, is all—"
Cal caught the boy by the shoulder. "We're not here to stir up tr
ouble, I swear. But you shouldn't have to deal with a sick father on your own. Let Dr. Logan see for himself that the two of you are okay. If you are, we'll be on our way and we won't bother you again."
A bony chin shot out. "And what if I say no?"
"Elijah," Ryan said, "I have a legal duty to report any suspicion of neglect or abuse. For your own protection. Now, if you let us come in, there's at least a chance I won't have to report this. If you don't…"
The boy's eyes got all shiny. "All we got is each other. And he never beats me or nothin', I swear. But if you take me away…what's gonna happen to him?"
"Nobody's sayin' anything about taking you away," Cal said. "I promise."
After a good five seconds or so, Elijah nodded, then opened the door and led them inside.
* * *
The last voice Dawn expected to hear when she picked up her office phone was Cal's. And the last thing she expected was her reaction to that voice. Like that first lick of an ice cream cone on a blistering hot day.
Or spilling that ice cream down the neckline of your low-cut tank top.
"Ivy gave me your office number," he said. "You busy?"
The obvious smile behind the words, a flash of dimples and gold-flecked irises and perpetually rumpled hair provoked an immediate and visceral response right where their combined cells were dividing and multiplying their little nuclei out. Wonderful.
"Depends on your definition of busy," she said mildly over something that sure sounded like a teensy, tinsy voice yelling, It's Daddy! It's Daddy! "I don't have to walk out the door in the next five minutes, but I do need to have this brief filed within the next—" Damn, how had it gotten that late? She sighed. "—half hour. What's up?"
"Just thought you'd like to know…Ryan and I went out to Elijah's."
She clamped the phone to her ear, even as it slowly registered that he was being all business. No flirting, no teasing, not a trace of his usual couldn't-you-just-eat-me-up? attitude. Which was good. Right? "And?"
"And…it's borderline. The place was clean enough, although we both wondered if the kid'd straightened up after we got there, since it took him a while to come to the door. There was plenty of food in the house, from what we could tell, and all the utilities were in working order. Eli showed us his home schooling materials, too, so that much seems true, as well. And Ryan said there were no signs of abuse that he could tell."
Staking His Claim Page 6