“Yes, I understand that, Blake, always did. But don’t you think that’s water way under the bridge? He enjoys being with you.”
Blake wasn’t so sure. “I’ll tell you what. Could I take him—if he wants to go—for an overnight with me? Like…camping. Tent camping. Something I know he likes to do, but just with the two of us?”
“Well, sure, I think that’s a great idea.” She hesitated. “But if you’re thinking to use that private time to tell him—”
“No, Serena. I wouldn’t do that. You’re the one who’s always been in his life. Whenever he finds out, I think you should be there and be the one to tell him. I’d just like one night alone with him. If he’s willing to go. Nothing I’ve tried with him has gone right so far—”
“Blake! Nothing’s gone that terribly wrong!”
Her memories and his were remarkably different. Blake remembered a volcano blowing up all over her kitchen, a kite crashing on its own, a computer game that humiliated the kid to play with him because he was so bad, buying him the wrong toy…
Blake scraped a hand through his hair. The list just went on and on. He didn’t want to think about it. He didn’t need to mentally relist those failures to be aware that he’d failed to prove himself in Nate’s eyes. “Just let me take him for an overnight camping trip, okay? And then we’ll talk about this again.”
Serena frowned. “Blake, I don’t know what’s on your mind. But if somehow you thought I was talking about marriage—as in, that I think you and I have to pin down our relationship for Nate in absolute terms—I wasn’t. I swear I wasn’t. I just think it’s time Nate knows who you are. I think it’d be good for him, and good for you. Your father/son relationship is not about me.”
“Everything in his life is about you, Serena. You’re not separable from your son. Do you think I don’t know that?” Blake hesitated again. The air was getting thick and murky with all their careful words and too many things that weren’t being said. “You wouldn’t even consider marriage?”
“I never said that.”
Hell, he was scared to press her, but even more scared not to. “But you brought up the marriage word, brown eyes. And in the context of not mentioning that word to Nate, which implies to me that it’s not something you want our son to believe could happen.”
Her eyes hadn’t left his, but now her hand reached for him. Fingertips grazed his arm, just a touch-me gesture, the sparest of physical contacts, yet the touch of her felt as intimate as the softness in her eyes. “I know I’ve told you this before,” she said quietly. “But when my parents died, a white couple took in my brothers and me, kept our family together. They were so wonderful to us, but Blake, it was part of my whole childhood…knowing that they’d personally turned their whole lives upside down to take us in. I loved them. They taught me to see the positive in the hardest times, to find something in the wildest storm. But—”
“But…” He had no idea how her foster parents had gotten into this conversation.
“But they never had a spare dime. And taking in three kids was a terrible struggle for them, just to meet basic needs. Every day of my childhood, I felt beholden. No matter how much I loved them, I always felt like a responsibility. And I just can’t do that ever again in my life. I know you feel responsible for Nate—and me. But I don’t want you to offer marriage, ever, because of feeling any kind of obligation.”
“I understand.”
The hell he did, Serena thought. He understood nothing. A tidal wave of love, fierce and compelling, swept through her heart and blinded her to everything else at that moment. He thought marrying her was the right thing, for Nate’s sake. No different than he’d have offered marriage years before, if she’d told him she was pregnant.
But she wanted love or nothing.
Every woman on the planet wanted a responsible man. But she wasn’t other women, and she couldn’t survive again always feeling beholden, always feeling like someone’s responsibility. She needed Blake to care what she needed and either take the risk, or let her go.
Maybe he heard her this time.
Maybe he really did understand.
Because he swooped her up into his arms faster than a devil fire and he kissed her first, instead of the other way around. She needed to get home for Nate. It wasn’t that late, and she knew he was perfectly content at her brother’s, but she’d told him what time she would pick him up and Serena had always kept her word.
But, oh, man. Right then, time didn’t seem very important. Right then, in fact there seemed to be no time, no gravity. No gray-drab room that sang of Blake’s loneliness, no clock ticking in his kitchen, no car lights flashing through his blinds from passing traffic. There was just him and her and a kiss that sucked her in faster than the speed of light.
Tastes and scents crashed into each other, familiar now, the way you knew the beat of a rock-and-roll song from the first notes and couldn’t help but start moving to it. His taste had always moved her, his textures and scents had always revved her personal drums to dark, low, hot rhythms. The feel of his hands on her skin, in her hair, the way his gaze fastened hot and bright on her face made her feel as if she was all that existed in his universe.
They’d been talking about Nate. About telling him about Blake being his dad. About their pasts. About marriage. How a kiss frenzied enough to shake the rafters came from all that, she didn’t know or care. Her heart just kept whispering to go with it. Reward Blake for giving in to an impulse. Show him that risk didn’t have to be scary because loving someone was the only thing that made huge risks worth taking.
See what we are, her heart cried to him. Because in her head she knew that time was running out. She couldn’t sleep with Blake for long because of Nate. But so much more to the point, she couldn’t force Blake to reach out for the kind of love she believed was worth fighting for. He either felt it or they had nothing.
But, oh, right then, they seemed to have it all.
Clothes stripped down, peeled away. Breaths shortened, rasped, turned into sighs and gasps. Skin heated, became slick and slippery. On the inside Serena could feel the building sensual power, heady and feminine, giving her the courage to try anything, do anything. For him. Only for Blake.
Urgent kisses only aroused more urgent kisses. For her, it was always the same. She’d never thought his being the father of her son was an accident. No, they hadn’t planned Nate that long-ago night, but her feminine soul had chosen Blake. He was her natural alpha mate. The man who stirred her like none other, who had spoiled her for all others. No faults or problems mattered. Loving him enriched her life, made her more of who she wanted to be, made her hunger for him, only for him.
The ghastly gray carpet was scratchy and rough on her bare back. His place was so unlike her intimate private bedroom with its creative comforts and softness. Yet she wrapped her legs around him, pulling him down to her. Somehow a table leg tangled with his foot. The glare of a lamp bulb was in the wrong place, blinding them at the wrong time. A phone rang in the distance.
None of it mattered. None. She felt as if she were emptying her wallets in Vegas, risking all she had this time, giving him all she was. Either he understood the gift or they had nowhere to go. This time she felt his love as surely as if he’d bellowed the words at ear-splitting volumes. His possession was swift, possessive, tender. Fierce tender. Wild tender. Love tender.
They surged toward completion faster than a runaway tidal wave, teasing each other, swelling and withdrawing, yet always pounding toward that ultimate goal. His whole body clenched when hers did. Passion sheened his eyes, as it did hers. And when she cried out his name in desperation, he hissed out hers, just as that wave tucked them under, sucked them under, swelled them into a crescendo of a climax.
Later, though, he laughed when he looked around in a daze and saw what they’d done to each other and the room. So did she. But when he bent his head to kiss her that last time—a lover’s kiss—she sensed fear again. He’d shown her love without
question. She didn’t need the words. But now he was holding her again, as if he would responsibly protect her. Rather than if he wanted to.
And Serena was afraid that she’d lost him.
Eleven
“Oh, boy! Oh, boy! This is cool, Dr. Blake!”
“You like it so far, huh?” Blake’s heart swelled bigger than the Goodyear blimp. Nothing he’d done with Nate before had seemed to work out, but tonight he really had hopes. He couldn’t ask Serena into his life until he was absolutely certain that Nate could love him. It’d never work. Not for Serena, and not for their son. So far, though—for the first time!—Nate seemed to be having an absolute blast with him.
“We get to put up the tent next, right?”
“You bet. It’s too early to settle down, but once we get the tent put up, we’ll have a place to hang out when we get tired.”
“I’m not tired at all.”
“I know you’re not, sport.”
“And we can have marshmallows for dinner, right? And I get to help you put up the tent? And then we’re both going to explore the wild’rness? And there could even be bears and lynx and mountain lions and stuff?”
“Yes, I’m counting on you to help me put up the tent. You know, the real men’s work. And then we’ll explore all you want. Then we’ll start a fire and make dinner, marshmallows included.”
“And there could be bears.” Clearly Nate didn’t want him to forget that important point.
“There could be bears,” Blake echoed. Personally, though, he thought any wildlife would have to be mentally challenged to still be hanging around, considering how much noise the two humans had made tromping up here.
As he peeled off the bulky backpack, he gratefully rolled his shoulders to shake out the stiff kinks. But his gaze never left Nate.
He’d chosen Kincaid land for their overnight camping outing because he thought it might bring him luck and he hoped his son might develop a love and feeling of belonging for this stretch of land. It was a show-off kind of Saturday afternoon. A balmy seventy-five, even for September. They’d only had to hike in about a half hour to find a perfect spot. Gold light showered on the rolling hillside, catching the color of fall wildflowers. A bare breath of wind whistling through the treetops, and the pale blue sky stretched as big as a man’s soul.
Or a boy’s.
God. A wave of love washed through him as he watched his son scamper over rocks, pretending to be a frontier explorer. He’d always liked kids, but nothing—nothing—resembled the emotion that Nate stirred in him.
A wall of sunlight surrounded the boy. He glowed with confidence, the kind Blake had never had as a child. Nate was independent. Maybe a little too much so. He asked endless questions, had no end of curiosity about life, could sit and stare at an anthill for a half hour without moving, then suddenly roll in the yard with Whiskey and the kittens. He was smart and strong and good-looking, probably the handsomest boy that had been born in this decade, and for damn sure the smartest. Temporarily he was also filthy from head to toe. Hell, how could a kid get so dirty so fast? But his teeth were blinding white when he grinned, and God knew he smiled and laughed all the time.
Blake was hard-pressed not to dream. He wanted his son to meet Trent, and all the rest of his uncles, and Garrett Kincaid. Like a craving hunger, he wanted the chance to raise him and raise him right, not like the fathers Blake had had but like the father he’d wanted to have. Serena was already doing a fabulous job with him, but Blake wanted to do Men Things. Install honor and responsibility and justice. Not as if a mom couldn’t teach the same values, but males just did certain things differently with other males. They taught each other a code. The Good Man code.
“Hey, Dr. Blake? What happens if we see a rattler?”
Run, Blake thought. “Well, I think if we make enough noise, most snakes are going to stay out of our sight.”
“Because they’re afraid, right? Because we’re so big and strong.”
“You bet.”
“You think we’ll see a cougar?”
Please, God, no. “Could be.” Nate was still looking at him expectantly, so Blake tried to inject more enthusiasm. “Yeah, could be,” he repeated.
“Uncle John said there were wolves back in these parts.”
“So I’ve heard. I always thought wolves got an unfair reputation for being trouble. Personally I tend to think they’re good critters.”
“Me, too. I think they’re good. I guess I think just like you, huh, Dr. Blake?” Like a real trooper, Nate gathered up the tent stakes.
“You know how to do this, huh?” Blake tried to sound like a supportive adult instead of so pitifully hopeful.
“Well, sure. Nothing to putting up a tent for us frontier guys, right? But then we gotta get our fire started. You know how it is. You can’t cook for forever, because at first the fire’s so big and everything’d burn. So you gotta get it started.”
“You sound like a real pro.”
“Yeah, I am. But you camped a lot, too, didn’t you?”
“When I was your age, yes,” Blake admitted. “I used to love it. Sleeping under the stars. Cooking outside. Hiking places where no one had been.”
“Yeah, me, too. Just like that.”
“But I just haven’t had a chance to do it in a while. Once I started medical school…well, there just wasn’t time. And for a lot of years I was living in the city.”
“Oh. That’s too bad.” Nate looked at him pensively, obviously trying to figure out something consoling to say. “I have a friend named George. He had to live in the city for a while, too.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“He came back to the mountains last year. He’s okay now, but it took a while. I think it— Hey, what’s wrong?”
“I—”
Shock blocked his throat. He felt the sting, which in itself was nothing, but it was as if lightning zapped the back of his calf and sent a jolt of electricity all through his body in a millisecond. That fast, his vision blurred and his heart pounded. That fast, he could barely see the bee that had stung him.
“Uh-oh, uh-oh. Dr. Blake, what’s wrong? Something’s wrong!”
“Don’t be scared. A bee just stung me.” He sank to the ground, feeling his blood rush like a boiling river. In principle, even if he hadn’t been a doctor, he would have known precisely what to do. Get the stinger out, pronto, then lift his calf higher than his heart. He had to do the first-aid things, and fast. Panic clutched his pulse that he could desert his son—a six-year-old little boy—if he passed out, and he just couldn’t keep any other thoughts in his head. He forced his voice to sound calm. “Nate?”
“You’re sick? You get sick like me if a bee stings you?”
“Yes. I have exactly the same allergy to bees that you do. I carry a shot with me…but it’s in my backpack, Nate. Could you get it for me? Right now, really quick, okay?”
“Okay, okay! I got my shot, too! I brung it, ’cause my mom says I always have to bring the shot on camping trips now. And I know how to use it. I know everything. Don’t you worry, Dr. Blake. I’m here! I’ll save you!”
The sky started dancing. Blake felt his whole body coat with a layer of clammy, sticky sweat. His head couldn’t seem to hold itself up, and his calf seemed assaulted by nonstop bolts of fire.
He had to stay conscious. He wasn’t going to fail Nate, not again. This time he had to prove himself to his son; there may never be another chance. Passing out wasn’t an option. There was no way in hell he was leaving a six-year-old boy alone at dusk in the middle of nowhere, scared to death, and with an unconscious man to worry about, besides.
“See, Dr. Blake? See?” Small, sturdy legs hunched down next to him. A hypodermic waved in front of his eyes. “That’s my shot, see? First you squeeze to get out the air, until you can see the medicine come out, right? And then you got stung in the leg, so I have to give you the shot in the leg, right? Up above where you got stung. O’course, it’s gonna hurt. All shots hurt. But it’s okay
if you cry. Nobody’s here but me. Okay?”
Okayokayokay. Dizzy, he lifted a hand to touch his son’s face. There seemed to be nothing in his mind but that silly litany of okay’s. Stay conscious, stay conscious. Don’t fail Serena. Not again. And those soft, blue eyes, just like his own, kept looking at him. His son. His beautiful son. But when he opened this mouth to answer Nate’s questions, nothing came out.
Everything went black.
Serena slammed out of her truck, jet-streamed past the landmark statue of Lewis and Clark, and barreled through the doors of the Whitehorn Memorial Hospital.
If there was a time in the week the hospital would be crowded, it was Saturday night. Still running, she saw a frantic mom pacing in a waiting room, a small boy with a black eye holding a dog, Collin Kincaid helping in a hurt ranch hand. She saw. But she said hello to no one, her throat too thick and her pulse too frantic to try talking, even to folks she’d known all her life.
The volunteer at the front desk could see she was upset, even if her shower-damp hair and yanked-on T-shirt weren’t an obvious indication. “The sheriff called me. I’m Serena Dovesong. My son—Nate Dovesong—and Blake Remmington. They came in together, but I don’t know—”
“Yes, dear. I believe someone on the second floor had your son for a bit. The little one was hungry, and Dr. Remmington needed to be examined. But by now they should be in the same room—”
“Which is…”
“Two-oh-four, dear. Try to relax. Your son’s fine. In fact, both of them are going to be fine. It’s after visiting hours, so it’s quiet upstairs…”
The woman was still talking, but Serena stopped hearing after registering the room number. She whisked past the elevator and tore up the stairs. Her pulse was pounding louder than a carpenter’s hammer in her ears, anxiety slamming in her chest. She told herself it was stupid to worry. The sheriff had told her that Nate was perfectly okay, that Blake had been stung by a bee and had to stay overnight but that he would be all right, too. She got it. Nobody was dying. Nothing that terrible had happened. But no matter how many times she repeated those reassurances to herself, she wanted her eyes on Nate and Blake, and she wanted that now.
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