by Silver James
Pulling back, Cord rolled to an unsteady stand. After a moment, he regained his balance and turned to tend the fire before calling to CJ.
“Hey, bubba, ’bout time for s’mores, yeah?”
The boy whooped and ran toward them. When he slid to a stop, Cord steadied him away from the fire pit. “Why don’t you come inside with me? You can wash your hands and then you can help me bring out the stuff.”
“Okeydoke.”
Left alone, Jolie inhaled deeply. Several times. She smoothed her hair back from her face with shaking hands. That had been way too close for comfort. She’d wanted to throw herself into Cord’s arms, kiss him, be kissed by him. All the feelings she’d suppressed for so many years bubbled up and were within a hairbreadth of boiling out. That wouldn’t do. Wouldn’t do at all.
By the time Cord and CJ returned, she’d reined in her emotions, stilled her trembling hands and smoothed her expression to hide the turmoil—as much from herself as from Cord. She could not—would not—walk down this path again. Her heart wouldn’t survive if he turned on her again. Their history taught her to be a realist, and reality dictated Cord would do exactly what Cyrus Barron demanded. Always.
Eight
Cord left CJ arguing with Miz Beth and Big John about whether Dusty, the ranch dog, could come into the house to sleep on the boy’s bed. He refused to make a bet on who’d win that one. Instead, he walked Jolie out to her car, albeit with a great deal of reluctance. Her arm brushed against his and heat flashed through him. He heard her breath hitch and wondered if their casual contact had the same effect on her. He hoped so.
He held her elbow as they descended from the porch, and while he wanted to drag his feet, it was Jolie who slowed as they walked around her car to the driver’s door. He reached around her to open it but didn’t get the chance when she leaned up against the vehicle. Chuckling, he stepped back from her so as not to crowd.
“Something funny?”
He offered a crooked grin and was gratified when her eyes lit up and focused on his mouth. “Does this feel as awkward to you as it does to me?”
“Awkward?”
“Yeah. Like first-date awkward. You know. Should I kiss her? Do I have bad breath? What happens if we both tilt our heads the same way and we bump noses, or...” He paused to sigh dramatically. “What if we bump teeth?”
Jolie’s laugh was rich and deep and sincere—exactly the effect he was hoping for. “Do guys really worry about all that?”
Cord nodded solemnly. “Absolutely. And let’s not even talk about boners.”
That elicited a peal of laughter. “Seriously?”
“Oh, hell, yeah. Talk about awkward! When you’re sixteen, an erection is pretty much a given whenever you’re around a pretty girl. Trying to kiss and hide your arousal takes far more coordination than most teenage boys can manage.”
Her eyes danced with devilish lights. “What about grown-up men?”
“Wait. Isn’t that an oxymoron?”
She lightly slapped his arm before her fingers trailed across his chest only to finally drop back to her side. “Are you telling me men never grow up?”
“Yup. ’Fraid so. When it comes to pretty women, men are perpetual sixteen-year-olds.”
“Horrors.”
Cord realized his fingers had curled into his palms in an effort to keep from touching Jolie. This teasing banter was familiar, natural, the way they used to be. As he watched, he saw her shiver. The wind carried a real chill now, and her short sleeves did little to keep her protected from its cold fingers. Without thinking, he reached for her and ran his hands up and down her goose-bumped arms to create some friction heat.
Jolie leaned into him, and he forced his feet to remain planted on the driveway. Every sinew in his body strained to step closer, to press against the length of her body and hold her close. Just when he thought he’d lose the battle, she did the unthinkable. She stepped to him, her arms circling his waist. He gathered her close and buried his nose in her soft hair, inhaling the scent of mimosa and warm spring days. His heart thudded, and he could feel hers softly echo even through the flannel shirt he wore. Cord was afraid to speak, afraid of breaking the tentative connection humming between them. He felt her smile against his chest.
“Awkward,” she mumbled, and chuckled, even as she pressed closer to his arousal.
He laughed. “Aah...perpetually sixteen. What can I say?” He sobered a moment later and whispered into her hair, “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For tonight. For dinner. For letting CJ stay the weekend.” There was so much more he wanted to tell her, to thank her for. Mainly for carrying his child—when it would have been so easy not to—for raising him to be the funny, bright, amazing kid who was at that very moment convincing Miz Beth to let a shaggy, flea-infested ranch mongrel not only into her spotless house, but into bed with him. But Cord couldn’t put all those feelings into words. Not yet.
When Jolie leaned back and raised her face, she stared at him for a long time, her eyes searching his expression. The moment she closed her eyes, he knew. She was waiting for his kiss. Brushing his lips across hers, he tightened his arms, and then let her go. Her eyelids popped open and she regarded him with puzzlement. Cord smoothed his thumb along the ridge of her cheekbone before catching a stray strand of hair and tucking it behind her ear.
I missed you. I want you. I need you. The words tumbled in his mind. He searched for his anger, his sense of betrayal, but her nearness overwhelmed those emotions. He never did have any sense of preservation where Jolie was concerned. If he truly was the son his old man wanted, he’d be plotting revenge simply because that was what Barrons did. But he couldn’t—not the way Cyrus would. He wanted Jolie. He wanted his son. And he’d have them even if he had to play a little dirty to get them.
He wouldn’t voice those hidden feelings out loud. Jolie would run for the hills if he did. It was too soon. He knew that, and if his plan had any hope of working, he had to keep those thoughts to himself.
“What?” The word feathered across his skin as Jolie exhaled.
“Hmm?” He was suddenly lost in her gaze.
“What are you thinking?”
He blinked and straightened, focusing on the here and now. A laugh escaped before he could swallow it. “Yeah, no. I’m not going there.”
“What are you afraid of?”
Cord hid the cringe twisting his muscles. This conversation reminded him far too much of the games he played with his brothers. It always started with that question and quickly devolved into “I dare you” followed by “I double dare you.” Those challenges never ended well. One or more brothers ended up at the ER and the rest whipped and grounded for life.
What was he afraid of? Simple answer—never seeing Jolie and CJ again. Of being stupid and messing things up—again—so that she left. Of spending the rest of his life without her, alone.
“More than you realize, sunshine.” He pulled her closer and rested his forehead against hers. “More than you could know.”
Her arms slipped back around his waist and she hooked her thumbs in his belt loops. “I wish you’d talk to me.”
“I wish I could.”
His honesty startled her into growing still, though her curiosity wouldn’t let things stay that way. “You know, Cord, it’s pretty easy. You just open your mouth and words come out.”
“Easy for you to say.” His wry chuckle disguised the tremor threatening his voice.
Jolie sighed and dropped her hands in preparation of pulling away from him. He tightened the arm around her waist and kissed her forehead before stepping back. “I would like to talk, Jolie. We sort of got off on the wrong foot.”
The huff of angry air she blew out was just as expressive as her frustrated sigh moments ago. “Look, I know you want me
to apologize—”
He held up his hands, cutting her off. “No. It’s too late for that.” Even in the dark, under the reddish glow of mercury vapor security lights, he could see her color rise. He backed up and half turned away as he tunneled fingers through his unruly hair. “Don’t, Jolie.”
Cord actually heard her jaw snap shut. Jamming his hands into his hip pockets, he stared up at the moon. Out here, away from city lights, the Oklahoma sky was a swathe of black satin dotted with diamonds while the giant pearl of a moon hung from a chain of clouds. Resisting the urge to sigh as loudly as she had, he watched her from the corner of his eye.
“This isn’t easy for either of us. Yes, I’m still mad. And hurt. But you got hurt, too.” He held up a hand to stay her arguments. “Just listen, okay? You’re the one who wanted me to talk.”
Closing her mouth, Jolie crossed her arms, lifting and plumping her breasts. When his gaze zeroed in on her chest, she growled at him and he laughed.
“Permanently sixteen, remember? If you stand there emphasizing them, I’m gonna look, babe. I’m a man. We like looking at pretty women. That’s how we roll.” He sobered and offered a conciliatory smile. “What’s done is done, Jolie. All we can do now is move forward, right?”
She nodded with one quick downward jerk of her stubborn chin. It wasn’t much to work with, but better than nothing, so he continued, “Now that I know about CJ, I want to be in his life. I want to be his father.” He ruffled one hand through his hair again. “I had a piss-poor example, so I damn sure want to do a better job. We need to talk—maybe not tonight, but soon. About...things. About custody and support and stuff.”
Cord didn’t like the way her back stiffened when she asked, “Stuff?”
“Yeah, Jolie. Stuff. I want us to be friends. Or at least friendly.” Oh, he wanted a whole helluva lot more than that, but he wasn’t ready to play all his cards yet. “CJ needs two parents. And he deserves two parents who aren’t at each other’s throats all the time.” He breathed a little easier when she visibly relaxed and appeared to consider what he said.
“CJ and I have gotten along just fine without you.” She sounded defensive.
He swallowed the angry retort forming on the tip of his tongue. Instead, he watched her, the silent weight of his thoughts leaking into his gaze until she looked away, no longer defiant. She dropped her arms and fumbled behind her for the door handle.
“Why did you come back?”
Jolie froze. “What do you mean?”
“Just what I asked. What made you leave Houston, come back here?”
She scuffed her toe against the cobblestone driveway and refused to look at him. She mumbled something he couldn’t quite make out so he nudged her again. “Jolie? Why?”
“I was homesick, okay?” She shifted from foot to foot and looked distinctly uncomfortable.
Cord grabbed her hand and tugged gently. “If we’re going to talk tonight, we might as well be comfortable. Come back inside. You can kiss CJ good-night and we’ll go out on the patio, talk out there in private.”
“I need to go.”
“Are you working tomorrow?”
“No.”
“Have a hot date?”
“No!”
“Then what are you afraid of?” Oh, he’d very neatly turned the tables on her. Jolie flattened her lips into a grimace. “Certainly not you. Fine. Of course, if CJ complains and wants to come home with me, you have no one to blame but yourself.”
* * *
He walked her back up the front steps, his palm a warm brand on the small of her back. Jolie prayed he didn’t feel the shiver dancing through her. How was it possible he could still make her knees wobble? Even when she was furious with him, her heart thudded not from the fury but from lust. She craved him, no ifs, ands or buts.
Holding the front door, he let her precede him into the entry hall before leading the way up the stairs to the private part of the house—the bedrooms. Some of the doors were open—though there were no lights on inside—and she did her best not to gawk. She couldn’t help but wonder which room Cord currently occupied. That way led to disaster. Her nights were already fraught with memories—the two of them in bed, on a blanket at the lake, in his apartment in college, in hotel rooms.
She was so engrossed in her thoughts, she ran into Cord’s broad back when he stopped. She stumbled and he quickly whirled to grab and steady her.
“Shh.” He held his finger to his lips. Cord nodded toward the open door of a bedroom.
Jolie peeked inside. A night-light cast a soft glow over the room. CJ, snuggly in his flannel pajamas, was sound asleep. One arm was thrown over the back of the shaggy mutt occupying the bed next to her son. She had to clap a hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle. Tiptoeing over, she swept her hair back so she could bend to place a kiss on CJ’s cheek. Before she could, the dog licked her arm and she couldn’t catch the laugh.
“Mommy?” CJ’s eyes fluttered, and she smoothed the hair off his forehead.
“G’night, sweetheart. Mommy loves you,” she said, kissing him.
“Night, Mommy. G’night, Daddy.”
“G’night, bubba. Sweet dreams.”
Cord stood beside her, ruffling the dog’s fur with one hand and cupping the back of CJ’s head with the other. She sucked in a breath as her heart seemed to freeze. How many times had she dreamed of this moment—of the two of them standing beside CJ’s bed wishing him good-night? The dreams didn’t even come close to the reality. Emotion swamped her and she turned away before Cord saw the tears glittering in her eyes. She stumbled out to the hallway and leaned against the wall, breathing heavily and dashing the back of her hand against her cheeks.
“Jolie? Honey, what’s wrong?”
Before she knew what was happening, Cord pulled her into his arms and her cheek found its favorite resting spot against his shoulder. “Nothing,” she murmured.
“Mmm-kay.”
He obviously didn’t believe her but didn’t press for an answer. Instead, he tucked her under his arm and moved her down the stairs and into the great room. He guided her outside to the patio and settled her on the double lounger before disappearing back inside the house. Cord returned a few minutes later with a glass mug topped with whipped cream. Irish coffee. Damn the man. His memory was far too perfect. She accepted his offering and cupped it in her hands while he poked flames back to life in the fire pit.
Cord joined her on the lounger without asking. She didn’t argue. Part of her needed his nearness much more than the part wanting him far, far away. He held a longneck beer bottle and offered her a toast.
“To what?”
“To...our son.”
How could she resist that? She clinked her mug against the bottle, then took a sip. Her Irish coffee was as perfect as if she’d made it herself. Jolie didn’t want to bring up the past, but the present was still too nerve-racking and the future was something she refused to contemplate. Being a coward, she lay against the nest of pillows at her back, watching flames dance along the fragrant piñon wood in the fire pit and sipping her drink.
Despite her best efforts to stop it, a tear perched on the ends of her lashes. This was what she’d dreamed of—evenings like this with Cord, the two of them sharing comfortable silences while their little one slept just inside. She’d wanted what all her friends wanted. A man who loved her, whom she loved. A man who wanted to spend a lifetime making her happy. But she’d fallen in love with Cordell Barron, the one man she could never have.
Cord relieved her of the cup and slipped his arm beneath her shoulders, snuggling her closer to his side. “Don’t cry, baby. Your tears break my heart.”
And that did it. With a sob, she opened the floodgates. All those tears she’d held back for so many years burst through her emotional shields. Cord held her, touching her with gentl
e hands, dropping soft kisses on her hair, forehead and cheek. She’d be embarrassed when her outburst subsided, but for now she absorbed his warmth, his kindness, and accepted the fact he cared.
Jolie’s sobs eventually turned to hiccups. Cord patted her back as if he wasn’t sure what exactly to do. She lifted her head. When he shifted, she caught the flicker of a wince before he turned away. Despite the way he’d been moving all night, she’d bet his injuries still bothered him.
Cord offered her a smile. “Need my shirttail?”
She hiccupped again, around a little laugh, and he interrupted her before she could apologize. “Don’t, sunshine.”
“What? Don’t blow my nose on your shirt?”
Cord laughed. “Yeah, it’s okay to blow your nose on my shirt.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead, and then shifted his position again. When she looked up at him, he offered a murmured, “Ah...awkward,” in response.
Jolie brushed her cheek moving against his shirt. What was she doing? He leaned and twisted, trying to see her face. She pressed her lips together, but the smile spread despite her best efforts. He glared at her. “I refuse to apologize for getting turned on around you, Jolie. I pretty much stay that way if you’re anywhere within fifty feet of me.” He chuckled. “Okay, to be honest, you don’t even have to be in the same room. All I have to do is think about you.”
She tilted her face, unsure she believed him, wanting to see his expression. She didn’t speak at first, just searched his face in solemn concentration. “You really mean that, don’t you?”
“Yeah. I’ve... Ah, hell, Jolie.” He pushed away and sat up. “I’m gonna be honest here.”
The debate raging inside Cord was obvious to her. Did she really want him to answer her question? She felt as if she was standing on the edge of a precipice and if she took one more step she’d fall.
No, no, no! Bad Cord. Don’t do this. It’s a really bad idea. You’ll ruin things. Again. His brain wouldn’t shut up so he imagined a gag. When Jolie’s hand touched his shoulder, the voice in his head shut up.