by Barb Han
“I’ll take your word for it,” she said. “I remember you at that age. And the need for an adrenaline rush hasn’t dimmed, has it, Ryder?”
“I like to think I’m more mature now.”
“I’d like to think I’m a supermodel,” she jabbed back. That quick wit of hers still made him want to smile. This time, he resisted the urge.
He glanced at his watch. “It’s late. I’ll get coverage on the ranch tomorrow, so we can get started first thing in the morning. We’ll start with his mother.”
An emotion he couldn’t put his finger on flashed in her eyes. Disappointment? Regret?
If Faith thought this was the beginning of the two of them bonding, working together as life partners, she was sorely mistaken.
* * *
THE HOUSE WAS SMALL, a two-bedroom bungalow with cars parked on the street and, in some cases, right on the front lawn. Those were on cinder blocks. There was a couch positioned on a porch or two instead of actual patio furniture. Chain-link fences surrounded mostly barren yards with patches of yellow grass. Ryder couldn’t help but take note of the contrast to the McCabes’ expansive ranch in Bluff.
Ryder parked in front of 622 Sycamore like Faith had instructed and cut the engine. They’d made small talk on the way over, mostly about the cold front that had blown through last night and the irony of this being the first day of spring when temps were barely hovering above freezing. In Texas, anything was possible when it came to the weather.
“What’s her name?” Ryder nodded toward the house.
“Celeste Bowden,” Faith supplied.
“Okay. Let’s go talk to Celeste Bowden.” He made a move for the door handle and stopped when a disgusted grunt sounded to his right.
“Fair warning, she’s not going to be happy to see me,” she said on a sigh.
“I already gathered that from our conversation last night.” He shouldered the door of his cab open. “Does she love her son?”
“In her own way? Yes,” Faith admitted.
He glanced around the neighborhood. “She may not take care of him in the way you’d like but she won’t want anyone taking him from her. If she hasn’t heard from him by now then she’ll be worried. And that’s the only shot we have at her talking to us, so keep a low profile and let me take the lead.”
Ryder tried not to focus on the fact that he didn’t sleep a wink last night, tossing and turning over the news that he might be a father. Two cups of black coffee first thing this morning had sharpened his mind.
Following closely behind Faith, he couldn’t deny a new protectiveness he felt for her because of the child she was carrying. He still didn’t know how to deal with the news other than to be stunned. Sleeping had been a nonissue. He kept waiting for the shock to wear off so he could figure out his next steps. He’d stayed at the fishing cabin last night, forcing down thoughts of the times he and Faith had spent there. Last night was the first time he’d been back to the place where too many memories could impact his judgment.
This morning, she’d left her car there and they’d decided to take his pickup, leaving long before sunrise. Conversation was a strain now, and he missed the easy way they used to talk to each other.
Ryder hopped the pair of concrete porch steps onto the small patio, and then opened the weathered screen door. It creaked and groaned. No way could anyone slip into this house quietly. And especially because a few dogs in neighboring yards fired off rapid barks. At this rate, the whole neighborhood would be up, trying to figure out what was going on. On second thought, he might need to talk to neighbors. Maybe it was good that they’d be up.
Ryder knocked on the wood part of the door. Most of the top half was glass. White paint chipped off the rest.
No answer.
This time, Ryder pounded on the door, rattling the glass in the window. The neighborhood dogs reacted again, going crazy barking as a figure moved toward the door. The woman came into view as she neared. Her hair wild, she wore jeans and a half-unbuttoned flannel shirt, no doubt the same clothes she had on last night. Worry lines and too much hard living shadowed what might have been an attractive face at one time.
“Who are you and what do you want?” she asked, cracking the door. Her gaze bounced from Ryder to Faith. Her eyes widened as she zeroed in on Faith, no doubt picking up on the fact that she was Hollister McCabe’s daughter. “Never mind. You’re not welcome here. Get off my porch.”
Celeste tried to slam the door but Ryder stuck the toe of his boot inside to stop her. “I’m sorry to wake you, but we’re here out of concern for your son. Is there any chance we can come inside?”
“No.” Angry lines did nothing to improve the woman’s hard features. On closer appraisal, she couldn’t have been older than her midthirties.
“I know he hasn’t been home. We just want to get some information so we can figure out where he is,” Faith said.
“My son is none of your business.” Celeste stared at Faith before giving Ryder a disgusted look. “Now move so I can close the door.”
Bringing Faith might’ve been a mistake. Ryder shifted to the right a little in order to block a direct line of sight between the two of them.
“No need to do anything you’ll regret,” Ryder said quickly, trying to bring the focus back to him. “We’re here to ask a few questions and then we’ll be on our way.”
“You with the law?” Celeste asked, glancing at the pocket of his jacket, most likely looking for a badge.
Ryder shook his head.
“Then let go of my door and get the hell off my property,” Celeste ground out.
“But—” Faith started.
“Last time I checked, trespassing was against the law. If you’re not gone by the time I count to three, I’m calling the cops.” Celeste’s tone intensified with her rising anger. Her gaze was locked onto Faith and he could tell that she was struggling to get past coming face-to-face with a McCabe.
“Okay.” Ryder held his hands up in surrender and shifted his boot, allowing her to shut them out.
The woman slammed the door so hard he thought the glass might break. She took a step back, folded her arms and stared them down.
“I hope you won’t let anything happen to your son because you’re not thrilled with us. We want to work together to find him and make sure he’s okay. We all know he wouldn’t disappear like this without answering his cell,” he said through the thin glass.
An emotion crossed her features, briefly softening her hard stare. She made a move for the door handle, but hesitated.
And then she shook her head.
Damn. He was so close to getting through to her.
“Did you eat breakfast this morning?” Ryder asked Faith. He spoke loud enough for Nicholas’s mother to hear.
“What? No. Why?” Her brow knit in confusion.
“There’s a diner in town.” He turned and hopped off the porch.
“That’s it?” Her voice outlined her shock as she stood rooted. “You’re giving up just like that? And now you’re hungry?”
“Get in the truck.”
“But she might know something. I can’t walk away without figuring out a way to make her talk to us.”
“She won’t. Not like this. She needs a minute to think it over. Besides, she’s listening to us and watching every move we make.” Ryder slowed but didn’t turn; he kept right on walking.
“Then we should talk to the neighbors. Someone might’ve seen something. Don’t tell me we drove all the way out here to eat breakfast.” The desperation in her voice almost made him turn around. Almost.
“If you want her to help find Nicholas, get in the truck.”
“Fine.” Faith stomped so hard the earth should’ve cracked. The only thing that did was Ryder’s face, in a grin. She still had that same fierce determinat
ion.
As soon as she took her seat and slammed the truck door closed, she whirled on him. “I hope this means you have a plan, because you just blew the only lead we have so far.”
“I didn’t but you almost did,” he said, keeping that wry grin intact as he turned the key in the ignition. The engine fired up.
“Me?” She was so angry the word came out in a high-pitched croak. “You’re joking, right?”
“Never been more serious.” He navigated the pickup through the one-lane street. “And you should calm down. Getting upset can’t be good for...it.” He motioned toward her belly, not really sure what to call the baby yet.
“Well, then, you’re going to have to explain everything to me as if I’m a two-year-old because I don’t understand,” she said, dodging his baby comment.
Chapter Three
Downtown Braxton, Texas, had a post office, a diner, a bank and a city hall. The diner was across the street from city hall and anchored an otherwise empty strip center. Ryder parked, fed the meter and then opened Faith’s door for her.
“You still haven’t told me what we’re doing here,” she said, taking his hand.
He ignored the frisson of heat where their fingers touched. Sexual chemistry wasn’t the problem between them, never had been. Trust was, and it appeared to be an issue on both sides. As for him, there’d be no way to get around her deception and build any kind of bond. Yes, he was still angry at her, and that was why he didn’t want to think about the attraction he felt or anything else that didn’t directly impact finding Nicholas.
“She’ll come and then she’ll be ready to talk,” he said. “She needs a minute to come to terms with the fact that you care.”
“How do you know that?” Faith didn’t bother to hide her frustration; angry lines creased her forehead.
“Curiosity will get the best of her. She loves him. I could see it in her eyes. She wants to find him as much as we do, and we planted the seed that we’re concerned,” he clarified.
“I hope you’re right,” she said.
“She’s also proud. She might not take care of him the way you would but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t love him. He might be the only family she has and she won’t let go easily,” he clarified.
“Celeste didn’t get what she wanted from my dad. I figured she was just using him, maybe even got pregnant on purpose hoping for a free ride. But she kept Nicholas and has been bringing him up ever since even though my dad was a jerk and refused to pay support,” she said thoughtfully.
He didn’t address the irony of that idea given their current situation, and she acknowledged that she was thinking the same thing with a quick flash of her eyes toward him. It was a good sign that she’d calmed down and could think through the situation clearly. Faith was smart.
“Oh, no.” She suddenly stopped at the diner door, turned and ran toward the trash can.
“What is it?” he asked.
“This isn’t good.” She bent over and clutched her stomach. “I feel awful.”
“Is it the baby?” Her expression made him worry that something might be truly wrong. A feeling of panic struck his chest faster than stray lightning and he was caught off guard by the jolt of fear that came with thinking something serious might be wrong.
“What can I do?” he asked as she emptied her stomach. He followed her and held her hair back from her face, helpless to offer any real comfort. He could see that her cheeks were flushed. The back of her neck was hot to the touch despite the frigid temps, so he swept her hair off her neck to cool her down, offering what little support he could.
“Sorry,” she said before emptying another round into the trash can.
“Don’t apologize for being sick. What do you need?” Watching her retch over a garbage bin made him wish he could do something to make it better. Anything besides just keep her neck cool. He’d never felt so useless in his life.
When she was finished, she glanced up at him looking embarrassed.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“I should’ve skipped that cup of decaf I had this morning on an empty stomach.” She leaned against a brick pillar next to the garbage can for support. “I’ll be fine in a few minutes. It’s probably just nerves.”
She looked at him and must’ve seen the panic in his eyes.
“Promise. It’ll pass. I went through worse than this in those first few months,” she said.
“Hold on.” He retrieved a bottle of water from the cab of his truck, unscrewed the lid and handed it to her. “Maybe this’ll help.”
She rinsed her mouth out before wetting a cloth and dabbing it on her face. “That’s much better, actually. Thank you.”
He shouldn’t feel such a strong sense of satisfaction. He needed to be stockpiling reserves against that dam he’d built, tossing bags of sand against it for reinforcement, because seeing the way she looked a few moments ago had threatened to put a crack in a wall he couldn’t afford to break.
An old two-door hatchback buzzed into the parking spot on the other side of Ryder’s truck with Celeste behind the wheel.
“You’re sure you’re better?” he asked Faith, relieved that her color was returning.
“Yeah. Much. The cold weather is helping.”
“Let’s get inside before she sees us out here and takes off. We have a better chance of getting her to open up if she can’t easily hop into her car if you say anything to frustrate her.”
Faith shot him a severe look.
“Hey, I’m just making sure she doesn’t slam the door in our face again,” he said, taking her arm. Holding on to her was a bad idea, especially while she seemed so vulnerable. He ignored the hammering against the fault line of the dam wall and the way his pulse picked up as he guided her inside the diner, chalking his reaction up to residual sexual chemistry. Even through her coat he felt the sizzle between them. “Table for two.”
The place had about twenty tables in a dining space to the left and a counter with bar stools for quick service on his right. There were plenty of windows at the front and only a few customers. Most of whom were spread around at tables in the back.
“Sit anywhere you like,” a waitress said from behind the counter. She was filling an old-fashioned soda glass from a spout.
Ryder motioned toward a booth in front near the half wall of windows, farthest away from anyone else in the hopes that Celeste would feel more comfortable talking. As it was, she looked ready to turn tail and run, and he couldn’t afford to lose his only lead. Faith was right earlier. They would circle back to talk to neighbors. He didn’t expect to net much since no one had come outside to check on why the dogs were barking earlier. Even if someone had peeked from behind a curtain, they wouldn’t talk. Celeste’s was a neighborhood that minded its own business.
Faith took off her coat and laid it across the booth before taking a seat. Ryder didn’t bother to remove his jacket.
The two of them had just sat down and gotten comfortable when Celeste walked inside. She made eye contact with Ryder almost immediately and he could see just how tentative her trust in either of them was. It didn’t matter. She was there. And he’d dealt with enough injured and spooked animals over the years to know it was in his and Faith’s best interest to tread lightly.
Celeste had thrown on a pair of yoga pants and a T-shirt underneath a long coat and furry boots. Her hair was piled on top of her head in a loose bun. She didn’t look much older than his eldest brother, Dallas, now that she was cleaned up. Fifteen years ago, she would’ve been barely been twenty years old. Faith’s father was a real jerk for taking advantage of someone so young and then leaving when she was in trouble. But then Hollister McCabe had never been known for his morals. His being a jerk was most likely for sport.
Ryder glanced at Faith’s stomach as Celeste pulled a chair up to
the booth, hoping the stress of the morning wasn’t taking a toll. He also wanted to get some food inside her now that he knew she hadn’t eaten breakfast. That couldn’t be good for her or the baby.
The waitress popped over and asked for drink orders.
“Coffee for me.” He looked at Celeste, who nodded. “Make that two. Can we get some water and toast for my friend?”
A quick look at Faith showed she appreciated the gesture. Thankfully, she’d taken his earlier warning seriously and seemed to realize that it was best to leave the talking up to him.
“You need menus?” the waitress asked.
“Yes,” Ryder said. “And can we get a rush on that toast?”
The waitress disappeared, returning a minute later with drinks, menus and toast. She set everything down and then said she’d give them a minute. Celeste shifted in her seat a few times, looking ready to bolt at a loud noise.
“I wasn’t going to show but I figured you asked about the diner loud enough so I could hear it on purpose in case I changed my mind about talking,” she said, staring at the fork rolled in a paper napkin. She seemed conflicted about being there. “You seem like you want to help. And I’m starting to get real worried about my boy.”
Ryder nodded, letting her take the lead. He’d learned a long time ago that when someone was making an effort, it wasn’t smart to get in their way.
“First off, I don’t trust anyone with the last name McCabe.” She glanced toward Faith, who was nibbling on her toast.
“I don’t, either, if it makes you feel better,” Ryder said, not bothering to mask his disdain for the McCabe family.
Celeste cocked her head sideways.
“I’m here to help find your son and I still haven’t exactly figured out how I was talked into it,” he said honestly. There was no reason to lie to the woman, and he figured they’d get further if he gained Celeste’s trust.
“Since you showed up with a McCabe, I have to ask why you care about what happens to my boy.”
“Faith and I have history. She’s worried about Nicholas and couldn’t go to her father. I’m not exactly thrilled to be here, but I couldn’t walk away from someone asking for my help, either.”