Ronan’s eyes widened and for the first time in years, Slate saw the pain he hid so well.
Time with his sister and nephew must have worked wonders on roughing up R.J.’s nerves, leaving his emotions raw.
Slate opened his mouth to apologize, but Ronan brushed past him and climbed on his snowmobile. Slamming the helmet on his head, he looked toward the house, past Slate’s shoulder. And revved off.
He didn’t look back.
Crap, Slate had just blown a great opportunity to alter something between the two families, but he’d blown it with his witty pride. He was on a freaking roll.
Inside, Amelia leaned against the balustrade of the catwalk overseeing the large family room. Slate sidled up beside her and bumped her shoulder with his. “You okay, Ames? What did he say?”
Amelia lifted her head, revealing tears pouring down her creamy cheeks. Slate never failed to recognize how beautiful she was, but in a brotherly sort of way. They’d tried dating when Robbie had left, but had both agreed the situation was too weird.
She sniffed and wiped her nose. “I’m fine. I just realized how much I miss him. I tried talking to him about the ranch, but he said the only way he’d back off is if I sign guardianship over to him for Mac.” Amelia closed her eyes and whimpered, “I can’t do that, Slate. I’m sorry. I can’t do it. I won’t.”
“Of course, you won’t. I’d never forgive myself, if I let you give Mac to him. He’s your son and my nephew. He belongs here.” Forearms resting beside hers on the pine log pole, Slate studied the woods, deck, and lawn covered in a white blanket through the windows. He’d rather move to Hell than let Ronan James have Mac and his inheritance. But for Slate, it wasn’t the land he cared about. As far as he was concerned, Ronan could have everything associated with Lacey Caverns Ranch. Slate wanted to keep Mac around – he was the closest Slate came to seeing Robbie around the ranch. Short of looking in the mirror.
A slap to his shoulder, and Amelia plastered on a reassuring smile. “Well, then let’s just hope Robbie comes home before the handwriting inspector sends the results of the signature.” She stared at his face for a moment. When she spoke again, her voice could have been the wind whispering over the logs on the sides of the house. “Do you think he still looks like you?”
Slate offered the crooked smile that charmed most people, rocks, and horses. “We’re twins, Amelia, I can’t imagine his genetic code changed since he left. He was pissed, but even all-powerful-golden-boy Robbie can’t change his intrinsic being.”
A grin, albeit half-hearted, pushed the melancholic tilt from her lips. “I know. But it’s nice to have the reassurance.” She sighed. “I’m going to check on Mac. I’ll try to come up with something to help the ranch. If Robbie would come back, things would be easier.” A nod, her eyes down, excused her from the suspended area above the rest of the house.
Slate stared unseeing at the leather furniture and wooden accents.
Amelia cleared her throat from the kitchen doorway. “The doctor is really pretty… don’t you think?”
Warmth rushed up his neck to his hairline. He’d been thinking the same thing. But he shrugged. “Sure. I guess I didn’t notice.” Slate pinched his eyebrows together at her teasing pursed lips and narrowed eyes.
The blond tossed her head back and laughed, a rare sound at Lonely River Ranch. “Yeah, anything male would recognize how attractive she is.” She stopped laughing and pointed a finger at Slate. “Are you saying you’re not male?”
A step in her direction with a menacing glare sent Amelia squealing from view. Little tart. Slate remembered why he didn’t want sisters, almost daily. He grinned and turned back to the windows. He needed to return to town and retrieve Pig. Maybe he’d see She-Doc.
~~~
Slate’s truck hadn’t taken long to fix. A spark plug had come loose, preventing the engine from turning over. When he’d been in a hurry to get help for Mac, he hadn’t had time to diagnose what potentially could have taken hours.
Trailer hooked up, Slate pulled onto the glistening road.
Poor Pig. The horse needed exercise and constant access to the outdoors. He wouldn’t get any at the Roylance’s home.
The truck crept forward. The last thing he needed was to slide into the railings like Becky had done.
Slow going, the mile stretched before him, ending abruptly at the bend. A tow truck pulled Becky’s beautiful truck from a pile of snow as tall as the cab not far from the Lacey Cavern’s driveway. The spunky She-Doc and annoying ranch owner were nowhere in sight.
Slate pulled his rig over to the side of the road. Out his open window, Slate hollered, “Hey, Slim. You seen James or the doc?”
Standing on the sidestep to his cab, the driver peered over the roof of his truck. “He rode up on his sled when she and I got here. He took her for a ride that way while I hooked up, said something about bringing her into town in a bit.” Slim leaned back and spit into the snow. Returning his gaze to Slate, Slim’s cheeks rounded in a smile like the women gossips in town, he gave a little nod. “They, you know, love birds?”
Hell. No. “Not that I know of, Slim. I’ll check on ‘em. Thanks.” Ronan moving in on the She-Doc didn’t sit well with Slate. He had the distinct impression something was going on, but he refused to consider the possibility that R.J. was pursuing a relationship with Becky. Ronan’s wife would call in the pre-nup without blinking, if she could get evidence he cheated. As much as Slate disliked Ronan, no one deserved a wife like Bethany. He shuddered.
The tow-truck driver finished hooking up. “Do you think I should wait for her?”
“Nah, I’ll bring her in. I’m headed there anyway. Thanks, Slim.” Slate waved the man off and watched as the banged up vehicles drove toward town.
Toward the forest where Slim had pointed, Slate stepped into the deep embankment of snow. Why take her into the woods? Did he need a physical or something? Damn, Ronan. Always knew the right way to piss off the MacAllister brothers.
Chapter 11
As hot as he was, Ronan creeped the hell out of her.
The rancher hadn’t said a thing about why he wanted to talk to her. Just rode up and said, “Let’s go for a ride.” What could she say? No? He’d mentioned showing her something science-y and off they’d gone. But staring at the back of his shoulders wasn’t as exciting as sitting behind Slate had been. She’d pressed her body against the hot MacAllister man as much as possible on their ride to town.
Not one bump had coerced her into rubbing against Ronan. Seriously, hot… but something was off. She needed to get to town and away from him. Too much intensity? Not enough honesty, maybe?
“Yep, this is a beautiful spot, Ronan. Thanks for showing it to me.” And it was. A clearing the size of a tennis court lined in snow-laden pine hadn’t been touched by a creature large enough to leave tracks. Mid-day light sparkled on the white floor, adding a blinding clarity to the area that should have been cast in shadow.
Becky glanced over her shoulder. “Do you think we should head back? I need to talk to Slim about how much he thinks the repair will be and then I have charts to catch up on at the clinic.”
Ronan didn’t answer. Slid off the front of the snowmobile and tucked his gloves in the back pocket of his snow pants. He stood with his back to her, facing the clearing, in silence.
A warm seat didn’t keep her comfortable. She shifted. Okay, she didn’t do dramatic men. His shoulders held her attention, but his touch didn’t zing along her skin like Slate’s. Not that she had any interest in Slate. Much.
Almost ready to trek out on her own – again – Becky fiddled with the zipper on her jacket and glanced behind her as if things had changed in the last thirty seconds since she’d peeked last. Returning to face forward, she found Ronan watching her with dark brown eyes. Was this where he raped her, chopped her up, and tossed her bits in the center of the clearing for an offering to some weird god?
He stepped toward her and she jolted. Crap. She was going crazy.
Another step. Sheesh. Right next to her and he raised his hand.
And brushed her cheek with the backs of his fingers. Husky and with more warmth than she thought the man had in him, Ronan whispered, “You’re shaking.”
Becky bit her lip to keep from screaming for help. His eyes smoldered, but Becky recognized calculated heat. She was a girl who’d fought her way through medical school in the Pacific Northwest. She’d used her own “wiles” to get second chances in the sexist internships around the eastern parts of Washington and northern Idaho. Making someone think they’re desirable is the easiest way to get what a person wants.
Ronan worked hard, but on the wrong woman. Becky pushed his hand from her face and clenched her teeth. Breathing in deep, she waited until she calmed down to speak. “I’m shaking because I’m cold. What do you want? You don’t have to play games, Ronan. I know you don’t want me, so cut it straight. What?”
Heat changed from desire to anger, but Becky didn’t fear the possibility he would turn on her. If he was anything like her, he was grateful to save himself the energy of manipulating the favor from her. Plus, how could he be angry with her when he obviously wanted something from her?
His brown eyes darkened to chocolate. “Fine. Straight. Mac is my nephew and since I have no children, he is the heir to my ranch… unless I have a legitimate son – blood son.”
Becky planted a hand on her hip. “That sounds like a chauvinist order that hasn’t been used since before Women’s Lib.” And where it could be headed gave her the willies. Wasn’t he married?
Ronan pressed the bridge of his nose. “I know. But land contingencies set by the first James in this area state that the land has to pass to a male who bears the James name. Down the son’s line is the most natural to follow.” He shrugged. “Of course, I don’t mind it going to Mac. Did you see how cute that bugger is? He looks like me.”
No, he didn’t. Mac mirrored a younger version of Slate. He didn’t have any of James’s coloring.
“Yes, he’s beautiful. Even if he didn’t live with his mother and I wasn’t just his surgeon, what does that have to do with me?” Her stomach hadn’t stopped twisting since he’d ridden up. She wanted nothing more than for everything to go back to normal.
Ronan slapped his hand on his upper thigh. He breathed in deep, the noise audible in the calm clearing. “Mac should be living at Lacey Caverns Ranch. Guardianship is mine with Amelia unmarried. If she were married, it’d be a different story, but part of the conditions to his ownership depends on his residency at the ranch.” He shrugged. “If she doesn’t give me guardianship or come back to live at Lacey Caverns, he forfeits ownership and I have to produce another legitimate heir.”
Tilting her head, Becky considered Ronan. He was serious. “Okay, so let me get this straight – if he doesn’t come live with you, you get the ranch in his stead? Isn’t it in your best interest to have him stay at Lonely River?”
His bark of laughter echoed off the surrounding trees. Bitterness hardened the lines of his jaw and he tapped the brim of his Stetson. “Yeah, because my wonderful wife wants nothing more than for me to have an heir.” Ronan spit to the side. “The bitch won’t even give me children of my own because…” He gripped his hands into fists. “Never mind.”
Uncomfortable in the sudden silence as Ronan stared into the shadows of the tree line, Becky shifted on the vinyl seat. “Can’t you let him keep it? I’m sorry, I’m not very good at this… you know, I’m not a lawyer?”
Ronan ground out, “Yes, I know. But I need you to understand why I need your help. If I can’t prove that Mac’s illegitimate through – what I believe – are falsified marriage papers, then I need to prove that he’s not Robbie’s. If Mac is legitimate and Amelia moves back in with me, no problems, but according to the ranch land deeds, if Amelia is legitimately married she can choose to sell the place out from under me as Mac’s guardian but has to put everything into a trust fund for him.”
He closed his eyes. “And as hard as losing the ranch would be to deal with, I’d cope. I don’t want to own the land, if I can’t have my nephew in my life. He’s my only heir. I can’t have children and, well, he’s my family and too young to know any better. Too young for his mother to poison him against me. Yet.”
Maybe he wasn’t as creepy as she’d thought. His desperation could have melted the snow around them. His heated monologue steamed the air.
“Why does it matter so much if he’s an heir? Why not adopt and solve the whole thing?” Becky wanted a reason to leave, but the problem seemed a little less life-threatening than he was making it out to be.
Ronan jerked back, shaking his head like she’d slapped him. “Adopt? Are you kidding me? I could do that to have children, but I wouldn’t do that to a child when I live with her. And blood is blood. Nothing beats blood. And Mac is blood. I have to pass Lacey Caverns down to blood. There is no other option.”
Becky sighed and slumped on the seat. “I’m sorry. It sounds like you’ve had a hard time of it. What’s your question?” She didn’t want to be dragged into any family issues – and they sounded complicated – but she felt sorry for the guy. Maybe her task would be simple and she could get on with her life. Heck, the worst thing was she’d have to say no. Life goes on.
He focused on her, hope lightening the shadows around his eyes. He stepped closer. “You have access to the boy’s medical records and his blood. I need a blood sample to prove he’s a James.”
Dread filled her. He would want something so terribly wrong on so many levels. “Have you seen his mother? He looks like Slate but there’s definite maternal instincts going on with Amelia. Who would be his parents, if not Amelia and Slate?” The story came together like a dramatic late night show.
“Robbie, Slate’s brother. That’s who Amelia ran off with. Slate isn’t involved with Amelia. At all. But he sticks up for Robbie no matter what.” Ronan’s jaw ticked. “I’d be willing to compensate you. From what I understand you have a large amount of student loans to pay off. You get me a blood sample and I’ll pay off your loans. Even the medical debt.”
Pay off her loans? All of them? She could go back home, finish her residency at a respectable hospital with experience in real surgery. She could be close to her parents – her dad anyway. The idea was heady. Yet sudden indignation and irritation flooded her. “How do you know about my loans?”
“Information has a price. Everything does.” He shrugged, but continued watching her.
Ronan had said something about a brother.
Disbelief at his lengths to get what he wanted replaced her anger. What would he do to her, if she didn’t do what he wanted? Becky shook off her fear and focused on the rest of the conversation which revealed more than she’d hoped for.
If Robbie was supposed to be the father, Slate would be available. Becky’s heart fluttered but she steadied her excitement. No one as good looking as Slate was single when a gorgeous woman like Amelia lived under his roof. Not to mention the boy was like a miniature version of Slate.
If her debt was paid off, she’d leave and never do another surgery on a countertop again. But nothing, and she meant nothing, could make her cross such a black and white line. “If I give you anything of that boy’s that I’m not authorized to do so by the mother, I would lose my license which would make my loans and all that work worthless. So the money wouldn’t do it for me. I’m sorry.” But she wasn’t really. As intriguing as the money was, she wasn’t ready to sell her ethics for money she could pay off with time commitment.
“What if I had a court order?” Desperation roughened up the vowels of his words.
What else could Becky do but laugh? A court order… in north-western Montana for medical information… Ridiculous. Like a gang member walking into the White House during a state dinner asking for a gun. Who did Ronan think he was?
“I’m serious. I put the judge in the seat. He’ll do whatever I want. Would it get me full access to the boy’s medical records?” His eyes
burned and Becky recognized the bitter edge of his determination. She was driven by the same hunger, just a different direction. “It has to be documented that he’s a James – medically.”
In silence, she considered her options. She wouldn’t do it, of course. The mere thought of it was unethical, but she needed out of the situation without upsetting Ronan. His questions floundered at any hold possible.
“She’s not doing anything of the sort, R.J., and you know it.” Slate stepped from the woods, his face tight above a smooth, steady revolver pointed right at Ronan’s chest.
Becky muffled her groan. Seriously? Where had he come from? With a gun? Slate probably thought she had been considering the duplicity which meant Ronan most likely thought the same.
Dang it. She’d appeased the wrong man.
Chapter 12
Ronan really had gotten to Becky before Slate had.
He didn’t like coming in second, but second to Ronan was worse than anything. And facing the fact that she might not be as forthright as she’d seemed stung. Money. So that was it? Money could make her drop values and do the unthinkable?
“Slate. What the hell are you doing here?” R.J. arched his eyebrow and tilted his head back. The arrogance from his early years had chiseled itself into the plain of his jaw and the shadow cast by his cowboy hat. “And what the hell do you plan on doing with that?” He eyed the gun like it might worry him, but Slate knew better. Guns didn’t bother Ronan – the man played Russian Roulette for fun.
A glance thrown She-Doc’s direction confirmed she wasn’t shackled to the sled, therefore she wasn’t there against her will.
Slate bit his tongue on a yell. Snow had made its way into his boots under his jeans and was melting into a very uncomfortable chilly puddle soaking his socks. He’d trudged through feet of snow to check on Becky. His frozen hands had scraped on rough bark which intensified the pain a hundredfold. And his all-metal gun froze his fingers like it’d been carved from ice.
Spurs and Lace (Lonely Lace Series Book 1) Page 7