“Congratulations.”
It sounded utterly sincere. He stared at his mother. Of all the things he might have expected, this wasn’t it. And then she startled him even more by turning to Jolie.
“I want to...apologize. To both of you.”
T.C. wondered if he looked as stunned as he felt. Jolie looked nearly as shocked as his mother turned back to him and went on.
“You see, I never understood before. I had no idea what it felt like, to lose the love of your life, and not know what happened to him. If I had, I would never have done that to you.”
T.C. stared at her. If he hadn’t had too much experience with her manipulative nature, he would believe she truly loved the old man. Was it even possible?
“I’m so sorry. And sorry it took maybe losing your father to make me see. And seeing how you felt, how you defended her that day at the line shack.”
He had never seen his mother so humbled. Was it real? It certainly appeared to be, but he’d learned early and hard that what appeared to be with his mother wasn’t always what was.
But if it was, did he dare turn away this overture, this chance to give them a life without having to deal with her scorn and disrespect? If it was just him, he might accept. With reservations, as always with her. The frog and the scorpion, after all.
But it wasn’t just him.
“Even if I believe this sudden change of heart, not to mention soul and very nature,” he finally said, “it’s not up to me. It’s up to Jolie. Your future daughter-in-law, no matter what you do.”
He smothered the smile that wanted to break through at just saying the words, and kept his expression stern as he watched his mother turn back to Jolie.
“He’s right. What I did was unforgivable. Especially to your little girl. I know I don’t deserve it, but I hope someday you can find it in your heart to forgive me.”
For a long moment Jolie said nothing. She simply studied the woman before her, T.C. guessed recalling that ugly day.
“Perhaps we can start by simply being civil to each other,” Jolie said at last, “and proceed from there.”
His mother nodded, looking grateful. “Thank you.”
“You’re his mother,” Jolie said quietly. “And I love him.”
“You’re lucky,” he said to his mother. “She doesn’t have it in her to be as cruel as you were.”
“Few do,” Whitney said wryly, startling him with the sudden self-awareness. Maybe she really had had an awakening. Or maybe this was just a new, cleverer scheme.
He just wished he could believe her fully, and be sure she really hadn’t had anything to do with his father’s disappearance.
* * *
She glanced at T.C. He’d been on the phone when she came back from seeing Kevin, and it had sounded like he’d been making plans to meet someone. She supposed he had a lot of work piled up, since he’d in essence ignored it for days now to help them. Something she would never, ever forget. But he hadn’t seemed in a hurry, and they’d walked back to his SUV at a pace Emma could easily manage, something else that endeared him to her even more.
She hoped nothing too awful had happened at his work in the interim. Then had the thought that she could just ask him. After all, she’d agreed to marry him, hadn’t she? The amazing speed with which it had all happened had left her a bit breathless, but the joy was bubbling up inside her and she was certain it would soon overflow, as soon as she allowed herself to really, truly believe it.
“Is the mean lady really gone?”
“Yes, Emma, she is,” T.C. told her, crouching down to look her in the eye. “And she’ll be gone for a very long time.”
Emma nodded, clearly accepting what he told her. She trusted him so much already, Jolie thought. There would be rough patches, of course, but they already had a good start. Emma would have a father, and she would have the only man she’d ever really loved. And as T.C. carefully secured Emma in the borrowed car seat, commenting he was going to have to buy one so they could give this one back, she felt the urge to wrap her arms around herself to keep from flying apart under the pressure of pure joy.
“Are we going home now?”
Emma’s words as they left the city caught Jolie off guard. She hadn’t thought beyond getting through the next moment for days now, and the simple question seemed much more complicated than it should be.
“I...”
She looked at T.C. He seemed to understand. “I thought we’d go back to the refuge and pick up your things. Then you can decide what’s next.”
That made sense, she thought. But when they got to the little cabin, she found herself oddly reluctant to leave. Never had a place been so aptly named, she thought. Refuge was indeed what she’d found here, despite the ugly intrusion of a killer. But then she realized the refuge wasn’t the place; it was the man. And she knew he always would be.
“What about Flash?” Emma asked with obvious concern after she had all her things gathered.
“Come on,” T.C. said, “I’ll show you.”
He went out to the car, activated the system, pulled out his phone and voiced a text message. So Emma could hear it, no doubt. He never failed to take the girl’s feelings into account.
“Dylan. I’m sending Flash home. If he hasn’t shown up at the barn in twenty minutes, let me know.”
Then they walked over to the corral, where the horse came to the fence and nickered softly in greeting. T.C. lifted Emma to the top rail so she could reach out and rub the horse’s velvety nose while he buckled a leather halter over the big paint’s head.
“I don’t want him t’go!” Emma exclaimed, clearly distressed at the thought of losing her beloved companion.
“You’ll see him again,” Jolie assured her.
“What if he gets lost?”
“He won’t. He knows his way. He’s done it on his own lots of times.”
“But what if he does?”
“He knows the way like you know the way to the park,” T.C. explained.
“But there’s snakes. You said so.”
“I’m sure he knows to stay away from them,” Jolie said.
But the child obviously wasn’t ready to stop worrying. T.C. looked at Jolie. “We could stop by the big house. Easier than going for a trailer, coming back for him, then going back again.”
But he would do that, Jolie realized, if it would ease Emma’s mind.
“I’d like to do that anyway,” he added, looking at her steadily, “if you’re up to it. Start as you mean to go on and all that.”
She knew what he was saying. That she had a right to be there now, and it would be good to establish that at the start. On one hand, she was tired of all the high drama and would like nothing more than normalcy for at least a few days. On the other, he was a Colton, and high drama seemed to follow even the “good Coltons.”
Besides, wouldn’t showing up at the big house be a good test of Whitney’s sincerity? It was easy to apologize to someone who might never set foot in your home again.
“Is Fowler there?”
“Sunday afternoon, afraid so. But so are the good guys.”
She smiled in spite of herself. “Piper?” she asked; she had always felt a kindred bond with the young woman who’d been orphaned at a young age, just as she had.
Something darker flashed through T.C.’s eyes for an instant, but he only nodded.
“Then let’s go.”
T.C. smiled, and she had the feeling he was proud of her answer. She smiled back, liking—no, loving the feeling.
He opened the corral gate and led the big horse out.
“Home,” he said, and let him go with a slap on the powerful hindquarters. Flash snorted, tossed his head and took off at a rapid trot. It was clear he knew exactly where he was going, and Jolie found t
o her own surprise she was relieved at that, which told her how Emma must be feeling.
Jolie belted the girl into the car seat. “We’re going to go to the ranch house, to be sure Flash gets there okay.”
That seemed to mollify the child, and she settled in willingly. And squealed with delight when halfway there they spotted Flash, mane and tail flying, topping a rise headed for the ranch at a long, easy lope.
“He’s beautiful, running free, isn’t he?” Jolie said, turning to look at her daughter.
“Makes it even more amazing he works so well for us, doesn’t it?” T.C. said. Jolie smiled at him, liking the observation.
She’d been smiling more today than she could remember in a long time. What had begun as one of the darkest moments in a life peppered with them had turned into the brightest, sunniest day she’d ever had.
And now she was headed toward the scene of the darkest day. Only this time she had T.C. at her side, and she knew she could face anything.
Even Fowler Colton.
Chapter 33
When they got to the house, T.C. honked the horn lightly twice. Jolie glanced at him, but he said nothing as he got out. But when he opened the car door for her this time, it was with exaggerated grace and even a small bow, as if he were a king clearing the way for his queen arriving back at the palace.
The massive front door opened, and four people spilled out. The good Coltons, she realized, recognizing Piper first, then Reid, Alanna and even Zane, Marceline’s much nicer if intimidating brother. As T.C. turned to get Emma, the four swarmed her with welcomes so vociferous she couldn’t doubt her welcome on this front.
And none of them were surprised.
She glanced at T.C., who now had Emma in his arms, and realized the truth of those phone calls he’d made. He’d rallied the troops for her. And for Emma, who was staring at the small crowd, wide eyed.
“Oh, my gosh. Look at you, Emma! You’ve gotten so big, and you’re so pretty,” Piper cooed.
Emma giggled. Jolie smiled.
“I’ve got some money I’d like to donate to your foster program, Piper,” she said, with a glance at T.C. She saw her meaning register, saw his slow, gratified smile as she made clear her utter trust that he would always take care of Emma.
Piper looked surprised, but smiled, as they all did as they headed back toward the door. It only took Jolie until midway up the six grand steps to realize they had formed a wedge in front of her, T.C. and Emma, as if to declare their allegiance for anyone to see.
Anyone meaning Fowler, who was standing in the foyer as they came in.
She hadn’t seen the man since the day before the painful scene in the library four years ago, but even back then she’d wondered if he’d had something to do with it. If he couldn’t act directly, Fowler had a habit of planting seeds of discourse in the right fertile minds and then sitting back to watch what he couldn’t do himself happen anyway.
He looked as he always had, tall, imposing, his eyes as cold a blue as she’d ever seen. She’d wondered once how many custom-tailored suits he had, since he wore one every day, even today, Sunday. And of course the black Stetson he always wore. To remind all, he joked, who the black hat was.
Only Jolie had never, ever assumed he was joking.
“Well, well,” Fowler said. “Look who’s here. Still leading my little brother around by his...nose, I see.”
Start as you mean to go on...
Indeed, Jolie thought. She glanced at Piper, who had Emma looking up at her in apparent fascination. Piper met her gaze, seemed to read her intent, nodded, then reached down and took Emma’s hand.
Jolie made her way through her protective guard, passing between Reid and Zane, both of whom gave her subtle encouraging pats on the shoulder. She came to a halt in front of Fowler, who was looking at her the same superior way he always had, when he’d bothered to register her presence at all.
“I would prefer peace,” she said, pleased with how firm and steady her voice sounded, and knowing it was at least in part because she had a solid wall of Colton support behind her. “But if you want war, you shall have it.”
Fowler’s eyebrows rose. “So the little kitchen maid has grown up?”
“Even the kitchen maid saw you for what you are. She was just too afraid to say so.”
Fowler sniffed audibly. “And I suppose now you’re not?”
“Of you? Hardly.” She said it with as much disdain as she could muster, and was surprised both at how thoroughly scornful it sounded, and how surprised Fowler looked. “You and Tiffany make quite the pair. Two master manipulators. At least you’re not making two other innocent people miserable.”
She wanted to add a sarcastic “Your mother must be so proud,” but in light of her recent promise to be civil with T.C.’s mother, she held it back. Besides, she was busy trying to figure out what it was she’d just seen in Fowler’s eyes when she mentioned Tiffany. Something quick, darting, that had almost looked like fear. Was it what T.C. had told her, that he was afraid they might suspect his long-suffering girlfriend of his father’s abduction and possible murder, and thus was trying to implicate somebody else, anybody else? Including her?
To her shock, Fowler looked away. He pretended it was to focus on T.C., but Jolie had seen the wariness, as if he were afraid she’d seen too much.
And then it hit her. Fowler wasn’t afraid Tiffany would be suspected, he was afraid she’d actually done it.
Well, now, wouldn’t that just be the perfect case of like finding like?
A scheme worthy of Fowler himself, executed and used against him. It would have made her smile with appreciation at the justice of it, if it hadn’t been for the fact that T.C.’s father was still missing, and despite everything she wouldn’t wish for that. She loved T.C. too much, and knew at the core he did love the man despite butting heads with him so often.
“It’s up to you, Fowler.”
His gaze snapped back to her, and she wondered if it was at her temerity, to use his first name. To the little kitchen maid he had always been Mr. Colton, preferable spoken with an undertone of fear. Well, he would find no more of that in her, she told herself firmly, and stared him down.
“War? Or peace?” she asked steadily.
For a long moment he stared at her, and she thought she saw a glimmer of respect in his gaze.
Then his expression changed to his patented impatient look. “I don’t have time to waste on the likes of you. I’m expecting someone.”
He turned on his heel and stalked into the study and shut the door with more vehemence than it required.
Cheers went up from four Coltons. The fifth, the one who mattered most, pulled her into his arms and kissed her, eliciting another, rowdier cheer.
“Welcome to the family,” Alanna said warmly.
“Such as it is,” Reid put in.
“I think,” Zane added, “it’s just improved.”
“Definitely,” Piper agreed, lifting Emma in her arms. The girl was looking around wide-eyed, and Jolie knew they had a bit of explaining to do, about the new situation. But the chorus of welcome had warmed her to the core.
Much later, after a pleasant reunion with Bettina—who promptly took Emma off to help her make cookies—and both Aaron and Moira Manfred, who to her surprise remembered her quite fondly, and a long, meandering walk down to the livestock barn, Jolie found herself sitting on a bench outside the barn office with T.C.
“I still can’t believe Flash actually beat us here,” she said with a smile.
T.C. smiled. He loved that horse, and he didn’t care who knew it. And that made her love him all the more. “He knows all the shortcuts, and can take them.”
“I think Emma would sleep in his stall with him if she could.”
“Speaking of sleeping arrangements,” he said, “You
r place is small for three, but we can make it work if you want.”
She stared at him. T. C. Colton, living in her tiny apartment, in a neighborhood far removed from the opulent luxury of Colton Valley Ranch? But she saw the truth in his face; he would, if it was what she wanted.
“But if you think you can stomach it here, we can have my rooms redone however you want. The sitting room is kind of my office here, so I was thinking we could take over the guest room next door and have our own living room. And there’s a single room on the other side for Emma. We can redo it any way she likes.” He grinned. “Horses, I suspect. We can put a door in between us and her, too.”
He’d obviously thought this all out, and Jolie was a bit taken aback.
“Or,” he went on, “if that’s too close to Fowler and Tiffany, and my mother, whose conversion is still suspect—” she was glad he’d said that; she had her own doubts “—we could do a couple of other things. There’s room down at the main barn for a nice-sized apartment, a good safe distance from here. Emma would like that, I think. Or,” he said with a sideways glance at her, “we could build something of our own, something modern, at the refuge. I have an even greater liking for the place now.”
She knew he was thinking of those fevered moments in the shed, and she felt the heat burgeoning inside her at the thought that there would be more, many more of those moments to come. She hoped they would go back to the refuge, now and then, no matter where they ended up.
He leaned over and, as if he’d read her thoughts—as he probably had, she admitted—whispered, “I can’t wait to make love to you in an actual bed. And sleep with you in my arms. And wake up in the morning with you. Every morning.”
A shiver, a delicious one, went through her. “I love you,” she said, because it was the only thing she could think of that appropriately answered everything he’d said.
And this time she kissed him, losing herself in the luscious feel and taste of him, loving the way he made that low, growling sound in his throat, as if he were slipping the leash for her, just for her.
Eventually, with promises of more to come, they headed back toward the house to check on Emma. Bettina met them at the back door, looking anxious. Emma, was Jolie’s first thought, but the kindly cook shook her head.
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