According to her brothers’ account, Clay toiled laboriously running his various business ventures. He was apparently doing well.
A memory stirred of her nestled beside that tall frame, her fingertips stroking that rugged profile as early-morning light streamed in through the shutters. Even as she shoved the memory aside, a flush crept up her neck to her cheeks.
He abruptly turned, startling her, and she averted her head before he noted her flummoxed state.
When he sat, it was in the chair adjacent to hers, his knees separated from hers by mere inches.
“I don’t want to make this difficult on you,” he started, his voice low.
“I thought you said we weren’t going to discuss Jamie’s custody.”
“We’re not. Well, not the legal aspect of it.”
“What then?”
He exhaled slowly. “Promise me you’ll consider what I say before going ballistic.”
“I don’t go ballistic.”
“You did a little yesterday and just now when I suggested we talk on the back patio.”
“I told you, I get nervous when Jamie’s out of my sight.”
“Which is why I’ve been rethinking my paternity suit.”
Thank goodness!
Her shoulders sagged with relief. “I swear to you, I’ll be very generous with visitation.”
“Oh, I still want custody of Jamie.”
“What!” She sat up. “Not on your life.”
“Not full custody.”
Her patience snapped, and she pushed to her feet. “Quit playing games with me.”
“Sit back down and listen.”
She’d never heard him talk so sharply. Reluctantly, she lowered herself into the chair.
“Joint custody is more than shuffling a child between two residences. It’s co-parenting. Both of us working as a team to raise our son. To do that successfully, we need to spend as much time together as possible. The three of us.”
“Define as much time as possible.”
“I’d rather define together.”
“Go on.”
“Twenty-four/seven.”
“Forget it,” Sierra bit out.
“Would you rather I take Jamie half the time? I will.”
The thought of Clay taking Jamie for even an hour had her—how had he put it?—going ballistic.
“You can’t stay here. There isn’t enough room.” If he thought he was sharing her bed, he was crazy.
“I agree.” He leaned forward, pinning her in place with his unyielding gaze. “Which is why you and Jamie are going to live with me.”
Chapter Four
Sierra would have liked to think she’d heard Clay incorrectly, except she hadn’t.
“You say going to live with you like I don’t have a choice.”
“You do have a choice. Many of them, in fact. I just happen to think living with me is the best one under the circumstances.”
He straightened in his chair, calm and cool and collected. Not one neatly trimmed hair sticking sideways or one droplet of perspiration dotting his brow. Her hair, on the other hand, was a mess, the result of constantly shoving her fingers through the thick strands. And the sweat-soaked collar of her shirt stuck to the back of her neck, intensifying her discomfort.
“Best for you,” she snapped.
“For all of us. Jamie will have the benefit of both parents raising him, and you’ll get to be with him most of the time.”
As opposed to separated from him half the time, if Clay won his paternity suit.
Sierra already ached with loneliness. “I don’t want to uproot him again. He’s just getting used to me. To this place.”
“You’ve been here…what? All of two days? I can’t imagine he’s become that attached.”
“No.” She shook her head. “I won’t do it.”
Clay continued talking as if he hadn’t heard her. “The rodeo arena isn’t far from here, only a couple of miles. You can visit your family whenever you want or they can come over. Ethan’s at the arena almost every day as it is, and Gavin once a week.”
“You live at the rodeo arena?”
“Sometimes it feels like that, I’m there so much.”
Not a place she saw herself either residing or bringing up her son. Too far from town. Too dangerous, what with horses and bulls and vehicles everywhere. It was probably also dusty and dirty. San Francisco was hardly perfect, but she’d resided there for the last seven years and grown accustomed to city life.
“The house is actually on the next parcel over,” Clay continued. “I built it shortly after the arena was finished.”
There were so many reasons to refuse his offer besides uprooting Jamie. She picked the first one.
“I’ve never shared a house or apartment with a man, and I won’t unless he and I are in a committed relationship.”
“I respect your principles, and I wouldn’t ask you to compromise them.”
Oh, okay. She hadn’t expected him to give in so quickly. “Well, I guess there’s no need—”
“I built a casita behind the house. It’s not large, basically a bedroom, a sitting area and a bathroom. But you and Jamie could be comfortable there. You’d have to take some of your meals in the main house. With me,” he added, his tone such that Sierra clearly understood shared meals were part of the deal.
“I can’t live off you. It wouldn’t be right.”
“I’ll be paying monthly child support for Jamie. Any rent, if you want, can be considered part of that support.”
“It still feels like a handout.”
“Fine. You can work for me.”
“This is no joke.”
“I’m not joking. I need the help.”
She eyed him suspiciously. “With what? I was an assistant sales rep for a medical-supply company. I haven’t been on a horse since…three years ago last Christmas.”
Like the rest her family, Sierra had grown up on and around horses, but she had abandoned the cowboy lifestyle at seventeen when she’d left for college. What possible job could there be at a rodeo arena that didn’t involve knowledge of livestock, expertise with a rope and excellent horsemanship skills?
“Office work mostly,” Clay said. “Answering phones, correspondence, paying bills and depositing checks, livestock-rental contracts, maintaining liability waivers and promoting jackpot events.”
That actually didn’t sound too bad and like something Sierra might even enjoy, especially promotion. She was good with people and liked working with them. It was what had once made her the go-to assistant sales rep.
She could be that kind of worker again.
Wait a minute! Even if she could leave Jamie all day, she wasn’t working for Clay. Not in this lifetime.
“You’ve thought of everything, haven’t you?”
“I haven’t. Which is why I need to run this by my attorney so he can draw up an employment contract.”
She almost laughed. “You not only expect Jamie and I to live with you, you want me to sign a contract?”
“All my employees do.”
She gaped at him. “How long are these contracts for?”
He didn’t miss a beat. “One year.”
“I can’t put my life on hold that long.”
“I’m not going to chain you to me.” One corner of his wide mouth tipped up as if he were about to smile.
Did the idea appeal to him?
“What if I want to take a trip?”
“You can leave Jamie with me.”
“Leave him?” Impossible. Clay was chaining her to him. “This is ridiculous.”
“I disagree. It’s a very fair arrangement.”
“You’re trying to manipulate me. And Jamie. Trying to force us to do what you want by threatening to take him away from me.”
“Joint custody isn’t taking him away from you.”
It was. For seven out of fourteen days.
Hard to believe she’d once fallen in love with this…this…control f
reak?
“Talk it over with your family,” he said, “and your attorney, when you retain one. Send me his or her name, and I’ll have mine forward the documents.”
“How long do I have to decide?” she asked snidely.
Clay ignored her tone. “A week.”
“That’s not enough time!”
“Ten days, then.”
“Be reasonable.”
His voice remained level, though his jaw muscles tightened. “I’m being far more reasonable with you than you were with me.”
He was getting back at her. She didn’t think he’d stoop so low.
Then again, she had done a terrible thing to him. He could sue for full custody, and he wasn’t. She should be grateful for that, at least.
Sierra frowned. Come Monday morning, she wouldn’t be sending out her résumé, she’d be finding an attorney to represent her.
Jamie suddenly let out a high-pitched squeal, and she shot out of her chair. How could she have forgotten about him for—what?—five minutes? No, seven. She dashed into the kitchen, Clay hot on her heels.
Jamie was sitting on the rocking horse, Blythe kneeling on the floor beside him.
Sierra came to a stop beside them, her breathing shallow. “What happened?”
“Jamie caught his shoe on the foot peg. When I stopped him from rocking in order to unwedge his shoe, he began squealing.”
That was all? Sierra stroked Jamie’s head to reassure herself.
His fingers gripping the hand pegs and feet properly positioned, he took off galloping again—which consisted of rocking the horse as fast as he could, his angelic face aglow.
Blythe watched him, her hand hovering protectively.
Sierra considered stepping in and lifting Jamie from the rocking horse. A part of her was angry enough at Clay to do it. But she’d never seen her son having so much fun.
Clay stepped around her, retrieved his hat from the counter and dropped it onto Jamie’s head. Too large for him, it immediately fell forward over his eyes.
“Ride ’em, cowboy.” Pride and affection shone in Clay’s eyes. He tipped the hat back so Jamie could see.
Father, son and grandmother all laughed.
Sierra stood motionless, her emotions in a tangle.
This was the man she’d fallen in love with two years ago. The man who’d allowed her to dream of the impossible.
He was also the same man who’d broken her heart and left her miserable enough to make the biggest mistake of her life.
She would, she realized, have to guard her heart ruthlessly because it would be much too easy to fall in love with him again.
* * *
“I REALLY APPRECIATE you seeing me on such short notice.” Sierra slipped into the visitor’s chair, settled Jamie on her lap and looked across the desk at her attorney.
“No problem. I understand the urgency.” Roberto Torres was Sage’s cousin-in-law. He’d represented Sage during her custody dispute with her ex, and she’d highly recommended him to Sierra.
“Did Clay’s attorney send over the papers?” She’d filled Roberto in on the situation during their phone call that morning.
“He did.” Roberto picked up a stack of papers on his desk and passed several sheets to Sierra. “Here’s a copy of the paternity suit and a proposed joint-custody agreement. I’ve only had time to skim both documents.”
Sierra attempted to read the first page of the custody agreement but nothing made sense. It was the turmoil raging inside her and not the legalese that tripped her up. She’d been back in Mustang Valley a total of four days and, other than her family welcoming her home, nothing had gone as planned.
Blythe Duvall couldn’t have been nicer or more considerate on Saturday, which Sierra appreciated. Things between her and Clay, however, had remained tense, continuing through yesterday evening when he’d stopped by the ranch while the family was having dessert. She expected more of the same when he visited today, especially as he knew she was meeting with her attorney.
“The terms of the custody agreement are pretty standard.” Roberto laid down the papers. “You mentioned on the phone this isn’t what you want.”
“No, but I’m not sure I have a choice. I’m worried Clay will sue for full custody if I don’t cooperate.” Sierra held the papers out of Jamie’s curious grasp. “Can he get it?”
“Probably not.”
“But I gave Jamie up for adoption. Clay could use that against me. You said the attorney he hired is one of the best.”
“You’re not an unfit mother, Sierra, which is what he’d have to prove. Joint custody, however, is almost a given.”
Sierra’s hopes, small to begin with, plummeted. “What’s this 5-2-2-5 parenting time schedule?”
“Basically, it’s alternating weekends. A fourteen-day schedule that continually repeats.”
“Sounds complicated.” And awful.
“I’m told you get used to it, and that it’s easier than a 7-7 schedule,” he added kindly.
“What if I refuse?”
“The judge will likely order it.”
And Clay wins again.
“I hate this feeling of helplessness,” she said through clenched teeth.
“We can always try and negotiate the terms. Propose working up to the 5-2-2-5 schedule slowly.”
“Clay won’t do it.”
“Let’s ask. You’ll feel less helpless if you have some say.”
She flipped through the pages as best she could with Jamie in the way. “What else do you recommend?”
“A review of the schedule in three months to determine how well it’s working and every six months thereafter. Also, what happens when Jamie’s sick? Or you’re sick? Or Clay? Grandparent visitations? Vacations—yours and his? Business trips? Babysitting? Day care? Preschool?”
Sierra wished Roberto would talk more slowly.
“I’m not sure about this employment contract,” he said, pulling a sheet out.
“Employment contract?” She shuffled through the papers in her lap, dropping some. “I never agreed to work for him.”
“No?”
“He mentioned it, but I didn’t say yes.”
“Well, I strongly advise you consider carefully before accepting. Living in his casita is one thing—”
“I’m not working for him,” she stated flatly.
“All right then.” He set several pages aside. “I won’t review the employment contract.”
Sierra fumed. Of all the nerve. She was ready to tell Clay he could shove the whole paternity suit where the sun didn’t shine. Except that would gain her nothing and would quite possibly make matters worse.
Another thought occurred to her. “Will me not having a job hurt my chances?”
“I don’t believe so. Are you currently looking?”
“I’ve just started. I’m hoping to find something I can do from home.”
“We’ll ask for day care costs. Keep in mind Clay will also need day care on his days with Jamie. You might want to use the same person or facility as him. Easier on Jamie that way.”
“I’m not putting Jamie in day care. I can’t.”
Roberto gazed at her curiously, waiting for her to explain.
“I have trouble being separated from him. Even for short periods of time.” Like a few minutes. “I thought I’d lost him forever. Since getting him back…” She hugged Jamie, her throat tight. “I’m scared to death of losing him again. I know it’s completely unreasonable, but I can’t help myself. That’s why joint custody is, well, impossible for me. Can’t we please start with visitation?”
“All we can do is ask.”
Sierra bit back a sob.
“I’ve met Clay. He’s not a bad guy. Have you talked to him about your apprehensions?”
“A little. That’s why he suggested Jamie and I move into the casita.”
Roberto reached into his desk drawer, withdrew a business card and handed it to her. “I’d like to make another suggestion. If I’
m out of line, I apologize, but remember, I’m your advocate and only want what’s best for you and Jamie.”
She took the card and stiffened when she read the name of a psychologist on it.
“It’s completely understandable for someone in your position, who’s been through what you have, to suffer anxieties. Learning to cope with them will only improve things for you and Jamie.” He waited while she flipped the card around in her fingers. “Dr. Brewster is someone we frequently refer our clients to, and she’s very good.”
“I can’t afford counseling.”
“Clay can. We’ll include counseling in the agreement, both individual sessions for you and joint ones.”
“He and I together?”
“You want to successfully co-parent Jamie. To do that, you and Clay have to get along.”
“I’m not going to ask him to pay for counseling sessions. He might think I’m unbalanced and use it against me.”
“The judge is going to order at least one counseling session, along with parenting classes. More sessions make sense and show you’re trying your best to make the agreement work.”
Sierra had her doubts. Could she trust Clay?
“Explore all your options,” Robert said. “Visit his home and check out the casita. See if you and Jamie could be comfortable living there before we go any further.”
“I assure you, I won’t be comfortable.”
“Maybe, maybe not. You don’t know till you look.”
Sierra and Roberto continued to discuss the paternity suit for another twenty minutes, until Jamie tired. They agreed on a follow-up meeting the next afternoon.
She couldn’t wait to get out of the attorney’s office. She kept hearing the phrase make the agreement work over and over in her head as she walked through the building’s main lobby and out the double glass doors.
Granted, she didn’t want a joint-custody agreement with Clay. But this whole situation was starting to feel less like two people lovingly co-parenting their child and more like an impersonal business arrangement.
* * *
CLAY WATCHED FROM his front porch as Sierra pulled in beside his pickup truck and parked. Jogging down the steps, he headed for her car, intending to open her door. She was already at the rear hatch by the time he got there.
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