She felt an invisible tug and lifted her head to find Clay staring at her, his expression unreadable. And then, suddenly, it wasn’t. She saw longing and desire and a need that pierced her with its intensity.
No, she must be mistaken. He didn’t want her like that.
She glanced quickly away, shaken by the raw power of his gaze. When she turned back a moment later, his attention was on the minister, giving her reason to suspect she’d allowed her imagination to run amuck.
“Gentlemen,” the minister boomed, his crinkly smile taking over his entire face, “you may kiss your brides.”
That was all the encouragement her brothers needed. While Gavin cradled Sage’s cheeks tenderly between his hands and brushed his lips across hers, Ethan bent Caitlin backward over his arm and planted a toe-curling kiss on her mouth. The guests broke into cheers and applause.
Sierra leaned down and rubbed her temple against Jamie’s. “Uncle Gavin and Uncle Ethan just got married.”
“May I present Mr. and Mrs. Gavin Powell and Mr. and Mrs. Ethan Powell.”
More applause accompanied the minister’s pronouncement. Jamie joined in, squawking and clapping his hands. The wedding recession began, and the couples left the courtyard to the music of an acoustic guitar. The best men and maids of honor followed in the wake of the brides and grooms.
Connor had been matched up with Sage’s cousin, Clay with Caitlin’s roommate from nursing school. The woman was strikingly beautiful, with wavy brunette hair that cascaded down her back. Sierra tried not to think of what an attractive couple she and Clay made. How the woman’s slim arm linked possessively with his. About the two of them chatting up a storm at last night’s rehearsal dinner.
“You ready?” Her father pushed to his feet, his eyes misty. He’d mentioned several times today how much he wished Sierra’s mother was there.
She stood, holding on to Jamie, and the three of them went down the aisle after the brides’ families.
“I’m going to the kitchen to see if I can help with the food.” A popular Mexican restaurant had been hired to provide the catering.
“You can’t,” her dad said, dragging her and Jamie through the house. “We have pictures to take.”
Outside, the wedding party gathered in the open area between the house and the stables. With three families involved, there were a lot of people. Someone had laid out a large green indoor/outdoor carpet where the photos would be taken. Rental chairs were brought over for those who wanted to sit.
One of the Powells’ wranglers led over Prince, the wild mustang her brothers and Clay had captured. The horse took one look at the brides in their billowing dresses and balked, snorting loudly.
“What are they doing with Prince?” Sierra asked her neighbor.
It was Clay who answered. He was, she noticed, minus Caitlin’s maid of honor. “Your brothers decided they wanted him in some of the photos.”
“I don’t think Prince is on board with the idea.”
“You could be right.”
They watched and waited from a safe distance while Gavin and Ethan tried to calm the horse. It was a slow process. Sierra regretted not grabbing one of the empty chairs.
She was acutely aware of Clay. His height. His breadth. The rugged strength beneath his polished exterior. His undeniable sex appeal.
“I get that Prince played a part in bringing Gavin and Ethan together with their wives, but this might be going a touch overboard.”
“What can I say? Your brothers are hopeless romantics.”
“My brothers?” She gaped at Clay. “You have got to be kidding.”
They both laughed. Sierra stopped abruptly when she caught Ethan staring at them, a knowing smile on his face.
Jamie chose that moment to start fussing.
“Hush now, baby.” She wiggled the plush toy in front of him. He’d been so good. If not for the pictures, she’d put him down for a nap.
“You want me to take him for a bit?” Clay offered.
“Do you mind?”
“Are you kidding?”
Her arms were getting tired, and maybe a change would perk Jamie up. Prince was finally cooperating, and the photographer, a pretty young woman, was hurriedly snapping shots of him, Sierra’s brothers and the brides.
Jamie, as always, delighted in going to his father. He immediately grabbed at Clay’s hat.
“Later, buddy. When we’re done with the pictures.”
Finally, the wrangler led Prince away, or was it the other way around? The photographer began calling out groupings. Clay, as best man, was in more shots than Sierra and Jamie. The minutes dragged on and on. Soon, Jamie started crying and nothing Sierra attempted quieted him.
Just when she thought they were done and she could leave, Clay put an arm around her shoulder.
“Can you take one of the three of us?” he asked the photographer.
“Certainly.”
“Jamie’s tired,” Sierra protested. “And crying.”
“This won’t take long,” Clay insisted.
“Can we do it later?”
“The photographer is leaving.”
“I’d love a picture with Jamie, too,” Blythe said. “Maybe one with Wayne and I and Jamie.”
“Good idea!” Clay agreed.
Sierra fumed. This was the side of Clay she liked the least. The pushy one.
Unable to refuse without making a scene, she allowed the photographer to take several shots of them in different poses. Jamie cried in every one. When Clay suggested a shot with all “the men”—him, Jamie, Sierra’s brothers and father—she reached her boiling point.
“Clay, it’s time for Jamie’s nap.”
“One more.”
Was this a preview of what it would be like when she and Clay shared custody of Jamie?
She allowed one more photo. When it was over, she wrenched Jamie from Clay much as he’d done to her before, and started for the house.
“Sierra—”
“He needs a nap, I need a rest and they’re getting ready to serve the food.”
Clay started after her only to stop when someone called his name. Good. Hopefully, he got the message. He wasn’t the only one in charge.
Was it too late to change her mind about the casita and the job?
Probably. She’d signed the custody agreement yesterday, along with the employment contract.
Escaping to her bedroom, she hastily changed Jamie and settled him in the portable crib, the plush toy beside him. Jamie protested loudly for about ninety seconds, then fell into an exhausted sleep.
Sierra sat on the edge of the bed, only to stand up again. She should be out there, mingling with guests, helping in the kitchen. Jamie would be fine without her. She really did hover excessively. Checking on him again, she stepped outside the room—and breathed. She was going to be okay. She couldn’t leave the house without Jamie, but she could leave the room.
After visiting with a few old friends, she busied herself helping old Mrs. Ruesga serve up enchiladas and tamales while simultaneously protecting the three-tiered wedding cake from curious youngsters.
Cassie and Isa burst into the kitchen. “We’re hungry,” they said in unison.
The rest of the wedding party wasn’t far behind. Clay came in last, Caitlin’s maid of honor adhered to his side.
Hmm.
“Can I fix you a plate?” Sierra asked her brand-new sisters-in-law.
“I’m too excited to eat,” Caitlin exclaimed.
“I’m not.” Sage patted her stomach. “And don’t be stingy.”
After the initial rush of hungry guests slowed, Sierra and the other helpers began clearing tables.
“Cassie,” she called. “Would you mind giving us a hand?”
“With what?” A hint of teenage attitude laced Cassie’s voice.
“Take this empty garbage bag and go through the house, collecting trash.”
Huffing impatiently, she grabbed the bag from Sierra.
“Did
I say something to upset you?” She thought she got along well with her niece. She’d certainly made an effort since coming home.
“Nope.” Cassie spun on her heels and left.
Sierra’s first inclination was to do nothing. Cassie was probably in a mood brought on by all the excitement. Perhaps she was jealous of her new stepmother and all the attention Sage was getting.
On second thought, what kind of aunt would Sierra be if she didn’t attempt to find out what was bothering the girl?
She went in search of Cassie and found her in the hall.
“Cassie, sweetie, what’s wrong?”
She said nothing and dropped an empty plastic cup in the garbage bag.
“Come on. Talk to me.”
To her surprise, Cassie whirled on her. “You’re going to leave again.”
“What gave you that idea?”
“I heard you yesterday morning with Grandpa and my dad. You won’t have your junk shipped here because you’re not sure you’re staying.”
“Sweetie, that’s not the reason.” Except it was. Somehow Cassie had figured out Sierra wasn’t quite ready to put down roots.
“You hurt Grandpa. And my dad and Uncle Ethan, and you’re going to do it again.”
Cassie stormed off, leaving Sierra all alone to face the small gathering of stunned wedding guests.
* * *
“SHE DOESN’T MEAN IT.”
At the sound of Clay’s voice behind her, Sierra cringed. Of all the people to witness her scene with Cassie, Clay had to be the one. “You heard?”
“Most of it.”
Damn.
“Come on,” he said.
Not waiting for an answer, he took her by the hand. She accompanied him reluctantly through the living room and outside to the front courtyard. It was nearly empty. Most of the guests were congregating inside or on the back patio where tables had been set up. Clay and Sierra sat in chairs near the makeshift altar, far enough away so no one could hear their conversation.
“Cassie’s a good kid,” he began.
“I know that.”
“She’s very protective of Gavin. Of their relationship. She resents her mother for running off to Connecticut and not letting her visit Gavin until last summer.”
Sierra stiffened. Clay was lecturing her, and she didn’t like it. “You and Cassie have a lot of long talks?”
“Me and Gavin. He’s the one Cassie has the long talks with.”
Of course they did. Sierra was instantly contrite. “I’m not like her mother.”
Clay, thankfully, didn’t state the obvious—which was that Sierra was exactly like Cassie’s mother.
No wonder the girl was angry at her and didn’t trust her.
There was a lot of that going around.
“If you give Cassie a chance,” Clay continued, “you’ll find a nice kid beneath that tomboy exterior.”
“I like Cassie. And I’ll talk to her. Tomorrow, when things aren’t so hectic.”
“Good. Now, about your furniture.”
“Please, Clay. Not today.”
“You’re right. I guess I’m like Cassie, I don’t want you to leave.”
She gazed out at the valley below, remembering when she was Cassie’s age and riding horses along the river with her brothers.
“I apologize for being prickly. Here and earlier during the photographs. I don’t react too well to being pressured.”
“Maybe that’s something we can discuss during counseling.”
She groaned. “Don’t remind me.”
They’d scheduled the first of their weekly sessions for this coming Wednesday.
“I admit, I can be a little pushy.”
She wished his crooked smile wasn’t so appealing. “A little?”
“What do you say we work with the counselor on our character defects?”
Against her will, she smiled. “There’s still my dad and brothers. They’re every bit as pushy as you.”
“Afraid that’s your problem to deal with.”
She sighed. “Oh, joy.”
“We’re going to make this work, Sierra. You’ll see.”
He oozed confidence. She, on the other hand, wasn’t sure about anything.
Meeting his gaze, she inhaled sharply. That same longing she’d seen on his face during the ceremony was back.
No man had ever looked at her like that before, unless she counted the night two years ago when she and Clay went from being friends to lovers in the span of a single heartbeat.
Suddenly nervous, she straightened. “I really should check on Jamie.”
Clay didn’t restrain her. Not physically. It was his eyes that cemented her in place, quickened her pulse, set her senses awhirl.
He raised his fingers to brush a strand of hair from her face.
Was he going to kiss her again?
Bad idea. They shouldn’t.
She braced herself. Gave in. Gave up. What good would it do to fight the inevitable?
All at once, cool air struck her in the face. Clay had pulled back, was starting to rise.
Anger bloomed inside—at herself. What a fool she’d been. How often would he hurt her before she learned?
She stood so quickly her chair wobbled.
“Sierra, it’s not—”
“Forget it.”
“There you are!” Caitlin’s maid of honor came up the aisle toward them, her sensual smile targeting Clay.
“Hey, Trista,” Clay said.
Trista! That was the reason Clay hadn’t kissed Sierra.
Relief filled her.
Relief that she’d been stopped in the nick of time from making another mistake. No other reason, she told herself.
“Sierra,” Trista cooed. “I haven’t had a chance to tell you how pretty you look. That dress really brings out the color in your cheeks.”
Her dress? Hardly. Clay and their near-miss kiss was responsible.
“I came to tell you they’re getting ready to pour the champagne and cut the cake. Clay, you have to make your toast.”
“I’ll join you shortly.” Sierra exited the courtyard ahead of Clay and Trista, glad for an excuse to get away.
Smiling and saying hello to the guests she passed, she hastened to the bedroom. This was the longest she’d been away from Jamie, and she was proud of her progress.
Easing the door open, she stepped quietly inside the room and whispered, “Hey, handsome. You awake?”
She froze, staring at the empty portable crib. A strangled cry—her own—filled her ears.
Jamie was missing!
Oh, my God, oh, my God, oh, my God! Where was Jamie?
Terror assailed Sierra, shattering her composure, icing her blood. Grabbing at the sides of her head, she whirled, frantically scouring every corner of the room on the chance he’d managed to escape the crib and toddled off. Ripping the quilt aside, she fell to her knees and looked under the bed.
Nothing!
The closet was also empty.
Someone had taken him. Stolen him! Right out from his crib.
She tried to breathe but her lungs had collapsed. What was she thinking? She should never have left him alone for even a second.
Bolting from the room, she ran straight into Clay.
He grabbed her by the shoulders and steadied her. “Are you all right? I thought I heard something.”
“Jamie’s missing!”
“Missing?”
“He’s not in his crib.” She began to blubber. “I put him down for his nap, and now someone’s taken him.”
“Calm down, honey.”
“I can’t.” She tried to shake free of his grasp. “I have to find him. Before something happens.”
“You look inside, I’ll look outside.”
His calm demeanor outraged her. Did he always have to be in such freakin’ control?
“No! I’ll look outside.” Sierra couldn’t explain it, but she was convinced whoever had Jamie had fled the house and was already driving off.
Flinging aside Clay’s hand, she tore through the house and out the kitchen door.
Clay called after her.
She ignored him. There were so many people. Hundreds, all of them talking and drinking and mingling on the patio. How easy it would be for someone to hide Jamie inside a coat or jacket and stroll nonchalantly away with him.
“Careful now, slow down,” a man warned.
“Did you lose something?”
Yes, her son.
It occurred to her to stop and inform the guests of what was happening rather than plowing over them in her haste. Possibly enlist their aid. That would take too much time, however. The kidnapper was getting farther and farther away with each second.
Cars were everywhere. In the parking area behind the barn. Beside the stables. Next to the house. Her heart pounded inside her chest, hard enough to fracture her ribs. Where to start looking?
She heard an engine roar to life and ran in that direction. The heel of her shoe caught in a pothole, causing her to stumble. Regaining her balance, she surged ahead. Whoever had Jamie, they were not leaving this ranch. If necessary, she’d plant herself directly in their path and not move.
Then she saw it, a vehicle pulling out from behind the mare motel!
“Stop, stop,” she hollered.
The vehicle came into view. Not a passenger car but a tractor with a feed wagon hooked to it. One of the ranch hands was getting ready to hay the horses.
She ground to a halt and blinked, her vision clouded from perspiration—or was it tears?
She was too late. Jamie was gone. Taken from her again.
The ground beneath her feet seemed to shift as if disrupted by tremors. A wave of dizziness left her faint and disoriented.
“Sierra!” Someone called to her from what sounded like a great distance away. “Sierra!”
She answered, except her voice came out a strangled sob.
What should she do?
Call the police. Yes, right away. Before too much time passed. And obtain a list of the guests from her family.
“Sierra!” The voice drew closer.
Fighting another debilitating wave of dizziness, she tried to bring the figure sprinting toward her into focus. It was Clay, and he was wearing an enormous smile.
A smile! There was only one reason for it.
Her knees collapsed.
Baby's First Homecoming Page 10