As though Sassy had read her mind, she said, “This is my son Breed. King’s son Breed, I should say. He named the boy the first time he laid eyes on him. And started divorce proceedings before I was out of the hospital,” she said bitterly.
Jocelyn could see how the boy’s odd silver eyes and deeply bronzed skin might make King Grayhawk question whether he was the boy’s father. But, Jocelyn realized, the law would not have allowed King to disown a son born in wedlock. It seemed cruel, however, to have branded the boy Breed, apparently a shortened form of “half-breed,” at birth. Especially when the child was innocent. Even if his mother was not.
“What do you want, Sassy?” North repeated.
“I want you to keep Breed. Only for a little while,” she said, holding up a hand to forestall North’s refusal. “I’m going into alcohol rehab—”
“Again?” North interrupted harshly.
“Again,” Sassy said in a high-pitched voice on the edge of control. “I’m going to make it stick this time, North. Really, I am. But I don’t have anywhere I can leave Breed. My family disowned me when—And your father—And my last husband—There’s just nowhere else I can turn. I thought since you had this ranch, and Breed is so good with horses, well, maybe you could find a place for him here. In a bunkhouse. Or the barn. Or…somewhere.”
“I can take care of myself,” the boy muttered.
“You’re only fourteen,” his mother said. “You need—”
“I don’t need anyone or anything!” the boy shot back. He glared at North and said, “Especially not charity from some half brother whose father doesn’t claim me as kin.”
“It wouldn’t be charity,” Jocelyn said. “You’re family.”
“That’s debatable,” North said.
Jocelyn turned on North and said, “His name is Breed Grayhawk. That makes him your brother.” She pushed the screen door farther open and said, “Please come in, Breed. Have you had breakfast?”
“He can stay in the barn,” North said. “There’s a room for the hired hand who mucks out the stalls.” He turned to Breed and said, “That is, if you want the job.”
“A job?” Breed said.
Jocelyn saw the wary hope that lit the boy’s silver eyes.
“You said you didn’t want charity,” North said. “I’m offering you a job. Take it or leave it.”
The lowest kind of job, Jocelyn thought. Most cowboys wouldn’t do work that couldn’t be done from the back of a horse. North had offered his brother a place in his barn—shoveling manure.
All the same, Jocelyn held her breath, and saw Sassy was doing the same, waiting to see whether the boy would accept North’s grudging offer.
“I’ll take it,” Breed said.
North offered his hand. “Then we have a deal.”
The boy shook North’s hand, then took a step back as though to announce that taking a job did not mean giving up his independence. Taking a job did not mean relying on anyone or anything. Taking a job did not mean he intended to give up keeping himself aloof and alone.
At that moment, he reminded Jocelyn very much of North.
“Good. That’s settled,” Sassy said with a relieved, gin-scented sigh. She turned to Breed and reached out to pick at the too-small, not-quite-clean T-shirt the boy was wearing, rearranging it over his narrow chest. “Be good,” she said. “Don’t give North any trouble. I’ll be back soon.”
Jocelyn watched the boy’s eyes brighten suspiciously and his valiant struggle to blink back unmanly tears.
He swallowed hard, and his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down, before he spoke in a voice that grated like a rusty gate. “You won’t forget about me. Like last time.”
Jocelyn watched as he swallowed again, his eyes miserable as they pored over his mother’s face, as though he were seeing her for the very last time. Jocelyn wondered how long ago it had been since Breed had been left like this. And how long it had taken his mother to return for him.
“I promise I won’t get romantically involved with anyone in rehab this time,” she told the boy. “I won’t…” Her smile wobbled. “I promise I’ll be back for you soon, Breed. And I’ll be sober when I come.”
“You said that the last time,” he accused. “And the time before that.”
“This time I mean it.” She turned to North and said, “Thank you. I won’t forget this.”
“We’ll take good care of him,” Jocelyn said.
Sassy frowned, as though just noticing Jocelyn, and once again asked, “Who are you?”
“I’m—”
“My mistress,” North interrupted. “For the rest of the summer, anyway.”
“That figures,” Sassy said to North. She turned to Jocelyn and said, “Just don’t give him your heart, honey. Grayhawks are murder on hearts.”
Without another word, she turned and headed for her car, a black Jaguar convertible. The three of them stood without moving until the car was hidden by the tail of dust flying up behind it.
“You got any boots?” North said as he glanced at the worn high-tops Breed was wearing with his jeans. “Or a hat?”
“No, sir,” Breed replied. The “sir” seemed to be automatic, which suggested the boy had been taught respect. But the look on his face, his posture, his tone of voice toward North, was pure defiance.
Which was better than fear or self-pity, Jocelyn thought. What must it be like to be left without recourse with someone who, even though he had the same name, was so obviously a forbidding stranger? In the ordinary course of things, this boy, with his too-small T-shirt and his worn jeans and his teenage high-top sneakers, should have been able to stay with his father at Kingdom Come. Instead, he was an outcast.
“Time for work,” North said.
“What about breakfast for Breed?” Jocelyn turned to the teenager and asked, “Are you hungry?”
“No.”
North shot the boy a look, and the kid added belatedly, “Ma’am.”
“Please call me Joss,” Jocelyn said.
North rolled his eyes. Probably because she’d made such a point of telling him her name was Jocelyn whenever he’d tried to use the diminutive term over the past two weeks.
“I’ve got some blueberry muffins left over from dinner last night,” she said. “I can warm them up in the microwave and slap some butter on them in no time flat.”
She could almost see Breed’s mouth water, but his lips remained sealed.
“Make it quick,” North said, backing into the kitchen. “Come on in, boy, and shut the door. You’re letting in the flies.”
Breed stayed just inside the door while Jocelyn hurried to retrieve the extra muffins from the freezer, then wrapped them in a paper towel and microwaved them for a few seconds. She’d left the butter on the counter to soften before breakfast, and it was still there.
She didn’t ask what Breed wanted to drink. Growing boys needed milk. She pulled the half-gallon dairy carton from the refrigerator, poured him a large glass and set it on the table.
The boy stood at the door with his hip cocked in a pose that was intended to be nonchalant. “Go ahead and sit,” she said, gesturing toward the place where she’d set the glass.
North crossed to the sink and leaned back with his arms crossed, staring at the boy, not masking his irritation at the delay.
Jocelyn saw the boy’s hand shaking as he reached for the glass of milk. She frowned ferociously at North, who was clearly intimidating the boy with his presence, and said, “Don’t you have somewhere you need to be?”
“Nope.”
She pulled two muffins from the microwave when it dinged, sliced them, buttered all four halves and set them on a plate, which she dropped in front of Breed. “Don’t feel like you have to hurry on our—”
By the time she’d gotten that far, the boy had inhaled three of the four muffin halves. He took a long swallow of milk to wet them down, swallowed everything in his mouth, then stuffed the last piece of muffin in his mouth and swallowed that, too. Then h
e inhaled the rest of the glass of milk, set it on the table, shoved the chair back, stood and said, “I’m done.”
Jocelyn was appalled. Could Breed really have been that hungry? Or had North simply made him too anxious to sit and eat at a more normal pace? She frowned again at North, who ignored her and said, “Come on, kid. I’ll show you where your room is in the barn, and where you can find a wheelbarrow and pitchfork. You know how to muck a stall?”
“I’ve done it before,” the boy said.
Jocelyn followed behind them as the tall man and the lanky boy walked side by side toward the stable, the boy hop-skipping to match his stride to that of the man. Jocelyn wondered how the son of someone as wealthy as King Grayhawk knew so much about mucking out stalls. But if his mother’s abandonment of him this morning was any example, the kid had led a tough life.
They had just arrived at the stable when Jocelyn heard the sound of hoofbeats. She turned and recognized three of the four people approaching on horseback. Her heartbeat ratcheted up a notch. She glanced at North and said, “I didn’t know Libby and Clay and Kate had come for a visit.”
“They aren’t here to see me,” North said. “They must be visiting Jack. He’s staying at the foreman’s house for a while.”
“Jack?” she said.
“Jack McKinley,” North said.
“The quarterback?” Breed said, his eyes wide. He turned to stare at the four people on horseback. “Hi, Kate!” he called out, waving to his cousin.
“Breed!” she cried, jumping off her horse and running toward him. “What are you doing here?”
The boy suffered Kate’s hug, then backed off and said, “Mom’s in rehab again.”
Kate crossed to her uncle and gave him a hug. Jocelyn was interested to note that North’s eyes never left Clay’s as he hugged his niece. He watched his rival as though Clay were a renegade wolf that posed a threat to life and limb.
Jack dismounted and crossed to shake North’s hand. “How’s it going?”
North lifted a brow and said, “Fine. How about you?”
“I’m in love,” Jack said.
Jocelyn watched North’s eyes narrow as Jack slid an arm around Kate’s waist and pulled her close.
“I took one look at her and fell head over heels,” Jack said, his gaze focused on Kate, whose face blushed rosily.
“I hope we’re not intruding, Uncle North,” Kate said, eyeing Jocelyn warily. “Mom and Dad came out from Austin last night to meet Jack, and I asked them to stay over so we could ride this morning.”
“Hello, North,” Libby said, stepping off her horse and crossing toward her brother.
Jack and Kate stepped back, so Libby could greet her brother without crossing Jocelyn’s path.
“Clay and I are still adjusting to Kate’s news.”
“What news is that?” North asked.
“We’re thinking about getting married this summer,” Kate said.
North’s brow lifted again as his gaze slid back to Jack. “Really?”
“That’s what we’re thinking,” Jack said.
“Take care of the horses,” North said to Breed.
“I’ll help you,” Kate said as Breed moved to retrieve the reins of the four horses they’d ridden and headed for the stable door.
“I’ll come with you,” Jack said, slinging an arm casually around Kate’s shoulder.
“I’d like to talk with you before we take off,” Libby said to North, sliding her arm through his and walking him away from the others.
Clay was the last to dismount. Jocelyn felt awkward when she realized that not only were his eyes focused on her, he was headed straight for her, without apparent regard for North’s presence. Jocelyn shot a quick glance in North’s direction and was relieved to see he’d been distracted by Libby.
She took a few steps in the other direction, to put a little more distance between the two men, uncertain how to handle the situation. She watched North’s retreating back as he walked away with Libby, expecting him to glance over his shoulder at any moment and realize that another man was poaching on his territory. She started when Clay touched her shoulder.
She had never felt so uncomfortable in her life. She managed a tremulous smile and said, “Hello, Clay.”
“I think we need to talk.”
Jocelyn shot another anxious look in North’s direction, but his attention was focused intently on his sister. “I don’t think we have anything to say to each other that hasn’t already been said.”
“I know what you’ve done. What you’re doing,” he corrected.
“What do you mean?” she asked, feeling a shiver of alarm skirt up her spine.
“I never realized you cared so much.” He caught her hand and squeezed it. “That you’d be willing to sacrifice yourself like this for me. And for my family.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jocelyn said, pulling her hand free and turning away, no longer able to bear his intense scrutiny.
He stepped up behind her, his breath on her neck and said, “I think you offered yourself to North in exchange for his not taking Bitter Creek away from us.”
“I don’t know why you’d think—”
He took her elbow and turned her to face him. “Tell me I’m wrong.”
She couldn’t. She glanced up at him, then dropped her gaze. Because of the written contract she’d signed with North, there was no way she could confirm or deny Clay’s deductions. But that didn’t seem to be necessary.
“I can’t tell you how much I admire you for what you’ve done,” he said. “And how much my family is in your debt.”
“There’s no debt,” she said, then bit her lower lip. She’d done what she’d done for love. There could be no debt where there was love.
“I’ll wait for you,” he whispered in her ear. “However long it takes for that bastard to get his pound of flesh from you. You deserve my loyalty. And you have it.”
Jocelyn closed her eyes. Admiration. Debt. Loyalty.
But no word of love. Did Clay love her? Could he still love her after she’d given herself to a man he hated? Or was she asking the impossible? There was no way she could question him about his feelings right now. It was enough, she supposed, that he would be waiting for her when this strange interlude was over.
And then he gave her the reassurance she’d sought. He took both of her hands in his, lifted each one to his lips to kiss it, and said, “I want to spend my life with you, Jocelyn. I want us to raise a family and grow old together. Please give us a chance.”
Before she could reply, Kate and Jack stepped into her line of vision. She quickly pulled her hands free and stuck them in the back pockets of her jeans.
Clay turned with her to watch the approaching couple. “There’s a misalliance that defies understanding.”
“Maybe she loves him,” Jocelyn said as she observed the couple walking toward them hand-in-hand. Breed had stayed in the stable, apparently still busy with the horses.
“I have no doubt she thinks she loves him,” Clay said. “But what does he want from her?”
“Isn’t it possible that he’s in love with her?” Jocelyn asked.
“In lust, more likely,” Clay said. “They have nothing in common. Nothing on which to base a real relationship. She’s a kid. He’s too experienced to be involved with someone like her.”
“And yet, you see them laughing together,” Jocelyn said softly. She was jealous of Jack and Kate’s easy rapport. She’d never laughed like that with Clay. And there was nothing easy about her relationship with North.
Jocelyn glanced uneasily at North, who was still deep in conversation with his sister. She watched as Libby’s face flushed, and her lips pressed flat. North’s body was rigid with anger. Obviously the discussion was not going well. She wondered what they could be arguing about.
“Hey, Mom!” Kate called. “You ready to go?”
For a moment Libby didn’t respond. She said something else to North, whose jaw tight
ened in response. Then Libby turned and smiled brightly—too brightly—at her daughter and said, “I’m coming.”
When Libby reached them, Clay said, “I need to be heading back to Austin.”
Jack looked down at Kate and said, “You’d better think about heading back, too. You’ve got early classes tomorrow.”
Kate made a face at him and said, “I was hoping we’d have more time together today.”
“I’ve got work to do this afternoon,” Jack said.
“How are you getting back to town?” Clay asked his daughter.
“I rode out with Jack,” Kate said. “Do you suppose I could get a ride back with you and Mom?”
Jocelyn watched Clay and Libby exchange a look of total understanding that made her heart sink. She’d known it would be hard to leave Clay for the summer. She’d just never expected him to have Libby Grayhawk for company while she was gone. Despite Clay’s declared willingness to wait for her, he shared a history with Libby, and he had a powerful attraction to her that might flare to sudden life. Thank goodness Kate would be with them on the ride back to Austin to chaperone.
North slid a possessive arm around Jocelyn’s waist when he rejoined her. But Clay never noticed, because he was too busy opening the back door to Jack’s pickup to usher Libby inside.
Kate rolled down the passenger’s side window and waved to North as they drove away.
Jocelyn felt North’s arm tighten around her waist as the pickup disappeared down the road. She had never felt so much like a prisoner.
She looked up at him, searching his face and asked, “Is all this really necessary?”
His brow furrowed as he watched the disappearing pickup. “I thought it was. To separate you from him. Apparently, I was mistaken.”
She frowned. To separate you from him. To separate her from Clay? Was that what North meant? What did that have to do with anything? This arrangement was about separating the Blackthornes from Bitter Creek, wasn’t it? “I’m confused.”
He shoved his free hand through his hair and down across his face. “So am I.”
The Next Mrs. Blackthorne (Bitter Creek Book 6) Page 15