Home on the Ranch: Tennessee Bull Rider

by April Arrington

  Chapter 2

  Regrets were nothing new for Nate. But this one he’d trade his soul to rectify.

  “What you think, man? Same as you remember?”

  Nate shut the door on his truck and looked at Landon, who stood beside the parked SUV, the smile on his face intensifying the burning in his stomach. Yeah. Elk Valley was exactly the same as he remembered. Unforgiving, cold and relentless with its blows.

  “It...” He glanced beyond Landon to the weak light emanating from the cabin porch. “It’s kinda hard to tell right now.”

  Landon laughed and opened the back door of the SUV. “Yeah. Guess so, in the dark and all. But wait till you get inside.” He leaned in the backseat, calling over his shoulder. “Brings back old memories.”

  Another door shut on the SUV. Amber rounded the vehicle to Landon’s side, eyes fixed firmly ahead, body stiff. Landon emerged from the backseat and carefully handed her a car seat. A pink knit cap nestled at the top of the cushion and, when Amber turned, small socked feet moved restlessly at the bottom.

  Nate gripped his aching side, unsure whether the pain lancing through him originated from his injury, the sight of the wriggling baby or the sound of Amber’s soft murmurs as she spoke to her daughter.

  Their daughter.

  How could she not tell him? How could she keep something like this from him? Was it revenge? Retribution? Hell, he knew how badly he’d hurt her but this—

  “...walls and flooring but the foundation will remain the same.”

  Face burning, Nate jerked his attention back to Landon.

  “Amber’s keeping as many original materials as possible,” Landon continued, kneeing the SUV door shut and adjusting his grip on the car seats in each of his hands. He lifted his chin toward the cabin where Amber stood, unlocking the front door, and smiled. “Mean McBride left it to her and she’s nostalgic about the place. Can’t say I blame her. Some of our best childhood memories were made in that man’s run-down cabin.”

  Nate nodded slowly, his eyes roving over Mean McBride’s place—now Amber’s. Donovan McBride, the old goat, had been a hardheaded cynical bull of a man. He hadn’t liked people, and people hadn’t liked him.

  Except Amber.

  She’d been around ten years old when Nate and Landon had shooed her away during one of their hunting trips in the woods. Tagging along had always been a habit of hers, but that day Landon had been adamant that guns and young girls didn’t mix. Worried for her safety, Landon had been harder on her than usual and she’d run off in tears—straight to Mean McBride’s cabin.

  They’d found her an hour later, drinking a soda on the front porch, her eyes red from crying and the old man patting her back awkwardly. He’d spotted them and scowled.

  You two are insensitive little farts. Make this girl cry again and I’ll tan both your hides.

  “Just so you know—” Landon grinned, the same memory gleaming in his eyes “—he’d say we’re big insensitive farts now.”

  A smile tugged at Nate’s lips but died quickly. Mean McBride would say a hell of a lot more to him now if he were still alive. Landon would, too, for that matter...if he knew the truth. Which, thank God, it seemed he didn’t. A curse and a blessing all at once.

  “Come on in.” Landon headed for the front porch. The door was open now and soft light spilled from the interior, flooding the wide porch and trickling down the front steps. “Once we get these guys settled, I’ll give you the ten-cent tour.”

  Lord, Nate didn’t want to go in. Didn’t want to be surrounded by old memories while Landon looked at him as though everything was just as it had always been. He needed time to get a handle on this. Wanted nothing more than to drag himself back to his truck, peel out and gain some distance. Regain a sense of normality.

  Hunching his shoulders, Nate shoved his fists in his pockets to stop his hands from trembling, then followed. The gentle sway of the babies’ car seats against Landon’s thighs kept drawing his eyes as they mounted the steps and entered the cabin.

  Two large lamps bathed the living room in a warm glow. A recliner and couch were arranged around the fireplace, and scuffed hardwood floors gleamed in spite of their worn texture.

  “Amber’s only renovated two bedrooms so far,” Landon said, leading the way down the narrow hall. “One for the nursery and the other for her. She plans to start on the third one soon.” He paused by the doorway, lifting the car seats, and lowered his voice. “Guess you’re wondering about—”

  “Landon.” Amber poked her head out of the nursery doorway, her blond curls bouncing over her shoulder around the baby girl she held. “I’m getting low on firewood. I’m trying not to fire up the old heater until absolutely necessary. Would you mind bringing in another load? Then I’ll finish up in here while you and Nate visit?”

  “Be happy to.” Landon looked down at the squirming babies he held and smiled. “Ready for bed, rascals? Y’all oughta be getting tired after all the trouble you stirred up for Bobbie Jean.”

  One of the babies grinned back at Landon and squealed while the other scowled and gummed his fists. Landon entered the room, set the car seats gently on the carpeted floor in front of three cribs, then placed a colorful teething toy in each baby’s hand.

  “I’ll bring their bags in while I’m at it,” Landon said. “Then I’ll rustle up some coffee.”

  Amber smiled, cradling the pink-capped baby to her chest. “Thanks.”

  Landon left, his boots treading down the hall then outside, the door closing with a creak behind him.

  Nate stood frozen on the nursery’s threshold and watched as Amber laid the baby girl on a changing table and then tugged off her knit cap. She had blond hair, the same shade as his, and a wealth of shiny curls, exactly like Amber’s.

  “What’s her name?”

  The babies started at the hoarse sound of his voice, all three pairs of big blue eyes widening up at him as he stood in the doorway.

  Nate’s heart skipped a beat and the skin on the back of his neck prickled. He looked down, noticing a dry clump of mud had broken away from the toe of his boot and marred the pristine white carpet. He took a step back.

  “Savannah,” Amber answered softly. “And that’s Mason on the right and Dylan on the left.”

  He stared at the two baby boys in front of him—God help him...his boys—watching the grasping movements of their tiny fingers around the teething toys, listening to their soft babbles and studying the clear creamy texture of their skin.

  They were so small. So vulnerable.

  “They...they’re five, six months old?” he asked.

  She nodded. “Six. This past Tuesday.”

  Heart hammering, he leaned forward and eyed them closer. Their socked feet were thrust firmly against the padded car seats, and their chubby cheeks were flushed a cute pink. They seemed strong and healthy. Thank heaven.

  “Nate?”

  He looked up, meeting Amber’s hopeful eyes.

  “Would you like to hold one of them?”

  His mouth ran dry. He glanced at the babies’ soft skin and flexed his hands. The rough scrape of his callused fingers against his palm spurred his feet back another step.

  Amber turned away, one hand on Savannah’s pudgy middle and the other rubbing her jean-covered thigh. “I’m sorry you had to find out this way,” she said heavily. “I really am.”

  He forced his dry tongue to move. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I tried.” She turned toward the large windows lining the far wall of the nursery. The lights on the SUV flashed through the lace curtains as Landon raised the trunk and began retrieving diaper bags from the interior. “Last October at Mac’s wedding. But Landon was there, you were anxious to get back on the road and I...well, I was three months along and still trying to get used to the idea. So I chickened out.”

  Nate recalled exactl
y how anxious—and guilty—he’d felt that day and imagined how intimidating the situation would’ve seemed to Amber.

  A strange mix of sympathy, remorse and anger flooded him, making his breath catch and his lungs burn. Six months. He was their father and he’d missed the first six months of their lives.

  “You should’ve called me later. When you were up to it.” He clenched his jaw and met her eyes. “I would’ve come.”

  She turned back to Savannah and removed the baby’s socks, pants and top. “I came to see you a month ago.”

  He frowned. “Where?”

  “Texas.” She paused, changed Savannah’s diaper, then said, “I told Landon I needed a couple days to myself, asked Bobbie Jean to watch the babies, then drove to the state fair. I know you compete there every year and I thought I’d catch you after you rode, offer you a drink—which I knew you’d need after you found out—and tell you then.”

  “I don’t remember seeing you.”

  “I left before you noticed me.” She finished dressing Savannah in pink pajamas, then settled her in one of the cribs, her back to him, staring out the window. “You had a great ride and won. I waited for you. When you came out, you had a dozen or more people around you and you...you looked happy. Like you were where you wanted to be. Exactly as you’d said at the wedding, and I just couldn’t do it.”

  He shook his head, a sharp pain shooting down the back of his neck. “We used protection.”

  “Ninety-eight percent effective. I asked.” She glanced at him, eyes sad, but a wry smile curved her mouth. A brief sparkle of the sassy nature he used to admire. “And after that third round of tequila I doubt we managed to make good use of it. You always were one of the overachieving two percent, Nate. When you put your mind to something, you go all out. That’s probably one of the reasons you make it to the finals in Vegas every year.”

  He winced. “Please don’t do that. Don’t make a joke out of it—”

  “What would you rather I do?” Her expression was somber. “Cry? Scream? Rue the day I slept with you?” She shrugged. “I rather enjoyed that night.” Turning, she added, “Up until the last half hour, at least.”

  The trunk on the SUV thudded shut and the light streaming through the curtains blinked off. Nate dragged his hand over his face, trying to wrap his head around it all.

  “Sometimes life just works against you,” she whispered. “And it doesn’t ask for your permission. I want you to know I’m not asking anything of you.”

  A strangled sound escaped him. “Why? Because you think I won’t deliver?” His chest burned. “If you had told me, I would’ve come. You know I would’ve.”

  “I know.” She spun and faced him, voice soft. “You would’ve come.” She nodded. “To a secluded Podunk mountain town you hate out of a twisted sense of loyalty to Landon, even though you’d rather run in the opposite direction.”

  “Amber—”

  “You would’ve come,” she said. “And if by some miracle you ended up staying, you’d resent me. That, I wouldn’t have minded. I could’ve handled that. Probably deserved it, even.” She looked at the babies rocking back and forth in their car seats. “But I was afraid you’d end up resenting them, too. That, I couldn’t accept. No matter how they came about, they’re precious to me. They’re loved. I couldn’t stand the thought of you regretting their existence.”

  Nate stiffened, a hollow forming in his gut.

  The front door creaked open, then footsteps approached. Amber bent swiftly, unbuckled the fussing baby—Dylan?—from the left car seat, then took him to the changing table.

  “They behaving?” Landon asked, wedging past Nate and depositing the diaper bags on the floor.

  Amber glanced over her shoulder, nodded, then began undressing Dylan.

  “A bottle spilled in the trunk,” Landon said. “I surface cleaned it but it’ll probably need another pass tomorrow.” He smiled over his shoulder as he left. “Take a load off, Nate. After I grab some firewood, I’ll get the coffee percolating.”

  Nate forced a smile that fell when the front door shut again, then turned back to Amber. “What did you tell him?”

  She grabbed a set of blue pajamas from the bottom shelf of the changing table. “That I made a mistake. That I had a fling with a tourist who left before I realized I got more than I bargained for.”

  Ah, hell. “Amber...” His gut hardened. “Damn.”

  She glanced at him, brows raised. “Oh, you’re anxious for me to tell him? Think it’ll be easy? Last time I checked, you hadn’t told him about that night, either. How should I word it, Nate? Which phrase should I use?”

  “Please don’t.” Nate rubbed his temples. “You know it wasn’t like that.”

  “No? Maybe not on my end.” Pain flooded her features. “I’m sorry. That was unfair. This is more my fault than yours. I should’ve told you both before now but I’ve got as much pride as anyone else. I knew exactly what look would cross Landon’s face if I told him. Yours, too. I only meant to offer you comfort that night and I honestly didn’t expect things to go as far as they did. I certainly didn’t expect this outcome.” She tugged at Dylan’s toes, smiling as he giggled. “But I wouldn’t change anything because I have these three. The four of us are a family. A strong, solid one that supports itself.” She glanced back at him. “I’ve been chasing you all my life, Nate Tenley. Guess I finally got tired and decided I’d do things on my own for once.”

  He struggled to find his voice. “I have no doubt you could do this on your own, but you shouldn’t have to. I was right there with you that night. They’re as much my responsibility as yours.”

  “Yes. Though I’m still not terribly fond of them being referred to as a responsibility. Landon uses that word a lot.” She sighed. “What do you have in mind?”

  Hell, not much of anything. He had no earthly idea how to fix this. Or even where to start. “I don’t know.”

  Her tone gentled. “It’s a lot to take in, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah.” To say the least. But one thing he knew for sure. “We have to tell Landon.”

  “I know, but I don’t think we should tell him this second. Not in the state you’re in at the moment. And not when he’s so excited to spend time with you. He hasn’t seen you in so long—” Her voice hitched, her face paling as she carried Dylan to his crib. “Things may have changed between us, but they haven’t for him. He still sees you the same way he always did. You’re like a brother to him. Besides me and the babies, you’re all the family he’s got. This will break his heart.”

  “He’ll be angry—hurt—but he’ll get over it,” Nate said, trying to sound reasonable, but his voice shook.

  “Are you over it?” she asked. “Is that how you feel right now? How you think you’ll feel anytime soon?”

  Sour acid rose in the back of his throat. No. Not by a long shot. And when Landon discovered that he’d broken his promise...

  That he hadn’t been here for Amber and had missed the first six months of his own children’s lives—

  Nate swallowed hard and looked away.

  “I didn’t think so,” she whispered. “I admit, I’ve made a mess of things.”

  “We both did.”

  “A big mess,” she continued. “One I’m having trouble finding my way out of.” She shook her head. “You don’t know how angry Landon is about this. I know he’ll be put out with me when he finds out I lied to him but he’ll forgive me because I’m his sister. But you...right now you’re perfect in his eyes. He trusts you. You’re the best friend he’s ever had and I know you feel the same way about him. If we tell him now, we’ll ruin that.”

  Feet pounded up the front steps.

  “I will tell him,” she said, walking across the room and staring up at him. “But please...” Her blue eyes pleaded with his. “Please just let it be for now. Be his friend, take time to proces
s this and heal. Let me finish fixing this place up and get my feet under me. Then after you’ve gone back to the circuit, I’ll tell him. I’ll explain everything. I’ve waited this long already, a little longer won’t hurt. That way, he’ll have some time and distance to think things through. To cool off. And maybe he won’t do or say anything that will leave your friendship unrepairable. You walked away from me to protect your friendship with him. You really want to just throw that away now?”

  Nate bit his lip, the sharp tang of blood hitting his tongue as he studied her then Mason, who blinked up at him from the car seat. No doubt Landon would want to kill him when he found out. But there was no way around that now.

  “I can’t keep it from him anymore, Amber,” he choked out. “Not after knowing this. We have to tell him.”

  The front door thudded open. Landon’s boots thumped across the floor then the clang of wood being stacked sounded.

  Amber’s shoulders sagged and her mouth trembled. “I know.”

  Her tone was resigned but there was something in her eyes. Something heavy and dark that made Nate ache.

  “I know,” she repeated quietly, unbuckling Mason and lifting him in her arms. She carried him to the changing table, then began the routine a third time, her hands moving slowly and methodically while the baby babbled.

  Landon’s heavy tread moved down the hallway and he drew to a halt in the nursery doorway, a few feet behind Nate, glancing at them both. “Everything all right?”

  * * *

  Amber pressed her palm to Mason’s chest and closed her eyes. His tiny heart thumped rhythmically against her skin through his thin pajamas, and his playful babbles eased the thick silence in the room.

  “No. Everything’s not all right.”

  Nate’s deep tone sent a chill through her. It was guarded and...full of pain. She flinched, then focused on Mason’s face, failing to return his sweet grin. Nothing would be the same after this. For any of them.

  “I’ve been asking Amber about the babies,” Nate said. “And I—”