Her Rodeo Man

by Cathy McDavid

  “Yay!” Drew’s glee returned. “I get to stay home from day care,” he singsonged.

  “We’ll see, baby. Mommy still has to work.” Tatum accepted the stack of papers from the nurse, and he departed. She took one look at Adam, slung limply across Ryder’s lap, and came to a stop. “Oh. Sorry about that.”

  Ryder shrugged. “Better he’s sleeping than crying.”

  “Was he crying?”

  “I gave him orange crackers and vitamin water. If he’s sick, it’s all my fault.”

  “He’s eaten worse and survived. Once I caught him in the pantry, shoving fistfuls of kitty kibble into his mouth.” Tatum brushed at her cheeks.

  His heart went out to her. “Was it tough watching the doctor set the finger?”

  Ryder remembered a time when he’d fallen from their pony Flame. The cut on his chin had required sixteen stitches. His mother had carried on worse than him. In the end, he’d wound up comforting her.

  Why should he remember that now?

  “He’s so young,” was Tatum’s only answer.

  Gretchen managed to drag herself away from the coloring table. Fists balanced on her hips, she glared at Drew and demanded, “Let me see your cast.”

  “It’s not a cast.” He sounded disappointed. “Just a...a...”

  “Splint,” Tatum said. She turned to Ryder. “He sees the orthopedic surgeon on Monday.”

  Drew brightened. “Then I get a cast. I want a green one.” He stared up at Tatum. “Mommy, I’m hungry.

  “Me, too.” Gretchen sidled up to Tatum and clutched her free hand.

  She smiled apologetically at both her children. “We have to get Drew’s medication at the store first, sweetie, then head home. We’ve taken up enough of Mr. Beckett’s time.”

  Gretchen made a face.

  Ryder gently lifted Adam and stood. Without thinking too much about it, he held the still-sleeping boy against his chest. The kid stirred, wrapped his small arms around Ryder’s neck, and promptly drifted back to sleep. Ryder absently patted the boy’s back.

  “There’s a drugstore in the shopping center across the street. Also a fast-food chicken place. Everyone like fried chicken?”

  “Yes!” Drew raised his good arm in a fist pump.

  “I can’t have fried chicken,” Gretchen said grumpily.

  Tatum patted her head. “She’s gluten intolerant. There’s breading—”

  “I heard,” Ryder said. “We can go somewhere else.”

  “It’s fine, sweetie. The restaurant has baked chicken, too.”

  As they were leaving, a nurse came out and called the name of the sick woman. Before her friend left with her, she leaned close to Ryder and said, “You may not be their father, but you’d make a good one.”

  Tatum obviously heard for a strange look came into her eyes, and she said nothing on their walk to the car.

  Chapter Six

  Food clearly worked wonders, as far as Tatum’s brood was concerned anyway. Adam woke up from his nap in time to demolish a plate of mashed potatoes, a biscuit and carefully cut-up pieces of chicken. Gretchen complained about her lack of gluten-free choices but was pacified with the promise of dessert. Ryder’s suggestion, and a good one if he did say so himself.

  Drew, Ryder’s new best buddy, sat close to him and practically inhaled his food. Tatum rode herd on them all, serving up portions and wiping messy hands and faces with paper napkins.

  “Aren’t you going to eat?” Ryder asked, noticing she’d hardly touched her food.

  “I will.” She took a single bite, then became distracted when Adam dropped his straw on to the floor and began to wail. She grimaced. “I’m sorry. Really I am.”

  “It’s okay, Tatum. They’re just being kids.”

  “And you like kids.”

  “I like yours.”

  He found her expression difficult to interpret. Was she pleased or irritated with him? The next instant, she turned away.

  The thing was, her kids really didn’t bother him. The boys were great. A typical rough-and-tumble pair. And Gretchen? Well, she wasn’t so bad when she let that damnable guard of hers down. It was to be expected, really. She’d been through a lot in recent years. Her parents divorcing, the family moving—twice—and then being shipped off to her grandmother’s for four months. That would put anyone on the defensive.

  They made it back to Reckless at about seven-thirty. Tatum had placed several phone calls during the drive. To Drew’s father. Her babysitter. Cassidy. And, lastly, her sister in Tucson. Everyone was relieved to hear Drew’s dislocation wasn’t worse.

  Ryder paid extra close attention when she spoke with Monty, listening while pretending not to. He heard resentment and also frustration. Monty, it seemed, wasn’t overly concerned that his son was hurt. Only because she’d insisted, he talked to Drew. Tatum handed her phone over the seat and stared out the window during the entire brief conversation.

  At the arena, Ryder pulled into a space near the office. He and Tatum exited the car and met up near the rear bumper. Night had fallen during the ride home, but overhead floodlights lit up the arena like a small city while leaving other places in shadows. Such as where Ryder and Tatum stood.

  A group of local barrel racers had reserved the arena and were having practice runs. Spectators applauded as a young woman galloped her horse around the course, dirt exploding at each turn.

  Ryder didn’t see any of his family, but he suspected some of them, if not all, were in the vicinity.

  “Thanks again for everything.” Tatum lifted her gaze to Ryder’s. “You went above and beyond today.”

  “It was fun.”

  “Right.” She smiled. For the first time all day.

  “And different,” he conceded.

  “That, I’ll believe.” The corners of her mouth drooped.

  “You must be exhausted.”

  “It has been a long day. And it’s not over.”

  “See you tomorrow?”

  “Not likely.” She glanced toward the arena and sighed. “It’s the weekend. I have art classes all day Saturday. Though sometimes we take Cupcake out for a ride on Sunday afternoons.”

  He’d forgotten about her not being there on the weekends. Less than a week home, and already he’d fallen into the habit of seeing her on a daily basis. What would happen when he left? Suddenly, he didn’t want the evening to end.

  “If you need a hand with the kids, just give me a—”

  He was rendered speechless by her lips pressing against his cheek. Her touch was both gentle and electrifying. Closing his eyes, he let himself experience the moment.

  Don’t stop. Not yet.

  She must have read his thoughts for she lingered. And lingered.

  Her proximity brought with it a heat that invaded his every pore. As did the fragrant scent of her hair. Or was it the lotion she’d used that morning? Not to mention the silky texture of her skin.

  Skin? Wait a minute.

  Without realizing it, he’d lifted a hand to caress her bare arm.

  She made the slightest move to pull away. Ryder would have none of it and drew her close. Closer still. He didn’t stop until she was forced to grab hold of his shoulders or risk losing her balance.

  “Ryder,” was all she got out before he covered her mouth with his, turning a not-quite-innocent peck into a full-blown, make-no-mistake-I-want-you kiss.

  She resisted for several seconds before relenting. He groaned low in his throat when she went soft and pliant in his arms.

  With very little urging from him, she parted her lips. When his tongue entered her mouth, she answered his bold strokes in kind. Ryder gripped her harder, every one of his senses compelling him to take the kiss further and show her exactly what she did to him. How she made him fee
l.

  It wasn’t to be, however. Much, much too soon she withdrew, murmuring, “We can’t. The children.”

  “Okay.” He’d forgotten all about them.

  Ryder was reluctant to let her go, though he knew he should. Had to. Must.

  “That was...” Her voice fell away.

  “Don’t say a mistake, Tatum. Because it wasn’t.”

  “I’m vulnerable. And you’re being sweet.”

  “I kissed you because it’s all I’ve been thinking of for days.”

  She sighed. “I’m an overworked single mom with three kids capable of driving a saint to sin. Which, after today, I’m thinking you are.”

  “Hardly.” If she knew the kind of thoughts he was entertaining about her, him and a dark, secluded bedroom, she’d realize just how far he was from being a saint. “You’re an incredibly attractive, very sexy lady, who also happens to be a great mother. I admire you, Tatum.”

  “Mom!” Gretchen stuck her head out the window. “Drew says his finger hurts.”

  “They’re getting restless.” Tatum eased away.

  Ryder let his hand slide from her arm to her hand. Their fingers linked momentarily before parting for good. He walked out from behind the car and watched her leave. Drew and Adam waved to him through the backseat window. Gretchen simply stared. Had she seen him and her mother kissing?

  Tatum also waved, an expression of uncertainty on her face. With good reason. He hadn’t given her sufficient reason to expect that theirs was a relationship with a future.

  Ryder turned to see his mother approaching. She also wore a look of uncertainty. His hope that she hadn’t witnessed him and Tatum kissing was instantly dashed with her next words.

  “I couldn’t be happier that you’re home, Ryder. But not at the expense of hurting that poor girl. She’s gone through hell, and I don’t want you putting her through any more.”

  * * *

  RYDER’S FIRST REAL conversation with his mother since his return and what was it about? Him defending his actions to her.

  She’d requested, insisted, really, that he accompany her to the announcer’s booth above the bucking chutes, stating she hadn’t locked up for the night. It was an excuse. She wanted them to be alone for the lecture she delivered. Possibly deserved. Nonetheless, his hackles rose.

  “I’m not blind, Ryder. That was no kiss between friends.”

  Denying it would waste his breath and insult his mother’s intelligence.

  “Tatum doesn’t date much, and I’m sure she kisses men even less.” His mother flipped switches, powering down the equipment. The floodlights would remain on until the barrel racers were finished with their practice. During the weekends, which included Friday nights, that could last until ten or later. “She likes you. She always has. Which makes her susceptible to misreading your intentions.”

  “I happen to like her, too.”

  “In that way?”

  “I’ll be careful not to hurt her.” Would he? He hadn’t been thus far.

  “She’s vulnerable, Ryder, and takes matters of the heart very seriously.”

  He didn’t answer right away, his concentration focused on the booth’s interior with its large open window and bird’s-eye view.

  It had been a lot of years since Ryder was here. As little kids, he and Cassidy would pretend they were calling out events for a rodeo. Their mother would turn on the PA system, allowing their voices to carry across the entire property. Often, their father was in the arena, riding a horse or roping a calf.

  Good times. He’d forgotten until right now. Another fond memory added to the list of ones he’d pushed aside when his parents divorced.

  “She’s walking a particularly fine line right now.” The censure in his mother’s voice returned Ryder to the present. “She had to leave her kids with her ex-mother-in-law for a while after she lost her job at the school and only recently got them back.”

  “Cassidy told me.”

  “It was difficult for her.”

  “I get it, Mom. I won’t take advantage of her.”

  Yet, hadn’t he done exactly that? Tatum may have made the first move, but that peck on the cheek was nothing more than a platonic thank-you. He’d taken the kiss to an entirely new level.

  And she’d responded. Incredibly. Beautifully. If he closed his eyes, he could still feel her lips on his, her mouth opening in invitation. The gentle slope of her back as he trailed his hand down her spine. Her limbs becoming liquid as their kiss lingered and deepened.

  How was it she didn’t have droves of suitors beating down her door? And if she did, how would he feel about that?

  Angry and territorial, though he’d have no right.

  “I wouldn’t worry,” he said. “I doubt she’s interested in me beyond a passing attraction.”

  “I agree.”

  Did she? Ryder staved off the blow to his ego.

  “Monty wasn’t the family-man type. He and Tatum gave it a go, but as soon as she had Gretchen, the marriage started to fail.” She eyed him critically. “You’re not the family-man type either.”

  “How would you know?”

  At his brusque tone, she faltered. “You’ve been single for years. I assumed.”

  “For the record, you assumed wrong.”

  She looked stricken. “Sorry. My mistake.”

  Guilt pricked at him. He supposed it wasn’t such a far-fetched conclusion. In the thirteen years since his divorce, he hadn’t come anywhere close to settling down.

  Not unlike his sister Cassidy. She, more so than him, shunned marriage. Even getting pregnant hadn’t changed her mind. She insisted on raising Benjie alone without ever telling the father.

  Ryder had long ago decided there were only two reasons for his sister’s secrecy. Either the guy was married and she’d had an affair, or he was someone the Becketts would disapprove of.

  He’d also decided it wasn’t fair of his sister to deny Benjie the right to know his father, or for the father to know his son, whether or not the man was married. Their mother had done the same thing to Liberty—which probably explained why Cassidy believed there was nothing wrong with it. Could his family be more dysfunctional? Amazing, really, that Liberty had found love with a great guy and was headed to the altar. Perhaps she’d forgiven their mother for the lies.

  “It’s getting late, Mom.” He started for the door.

  “Wait, Ryder.”

  “I think we’ve covered everything we need to.”

  “If the school board doesn’t approve the new budget and rehire Tatum, she’ll be devastated. I’m not sure she can take another personal blow.”

  “Is there a chance she won’t be hired back?”

  “The board isn’t in agreement on the budget. We meet again the week after next for the official vote.”

  “You’ll keep her on here, won’t you?”

  “Of course. For as long as she wants.”

  “She’s capable of more. There’s nothing I’ve done this week she couldn’t handle with minimal training.”

  “I disagree. You cut a good deal with Donnie for those bulls. Tatum hasn’t ever been involved in contract negotiations.”

  “She’s smart.”

  “She’s also a little shy when she’s in unfamiliar circumstances.”

  “Maybe she can shadow me next time.” The idea appealed to Ryder.

  His mother hesitated. “I’m not sure your father will go for that.”

  He’d gotten the same impression when talking to Mercer. “Why doesn’t he like her?”

  “That’s not it at all. He wants you to stay. Training Tatum to do your job makes you dispensable.”

  “I didn’t commit long-term when I agreed to help out.”

  “He’s hoping to change
your mind.” She moved as if to touch him, then withdrew her hand. “I want you to stay, too.”

  “Why?”

  “You’re my son.”

  “Besides that?”

  “The Easy Money is a family business, and you’re part of the family.”

  “If Dad hadn’t wormed his way back into the business, would you have still wanted me to be part of it?”

  She appeared offended by his question. “Of course.”

  “You never said so.”

  “You had your job at Madison-Monroe. I didn’t think you’d accept if I’d asked.”

  She was right about that.

  Hand on the doorknob, he paused. There was one question he needed answered before ending this conversation. “Didn’t you feel the least bit bad about lying to Liberty, to all of us, for years?”

  “I felt terrible.”

  He chuckled derisively. “Not enough to tell the truth.”

  “I made a decision. I thought it was the right one at the time. If you’re a parent one day, and I truly hope you are, then maybe you’ll understand.”

  “Dad has been sober for twenty-two years. You don’t think he proved himself a long time ago?”

  “I was afraid.”

  “It’s always about you, isn’t it?”

  “I did what I had to in order to protect my family.”

  Cassidy had said almost the exact same thing. Did she and their mother compare notes? Decide what they’d tell him? The thought irritated him. Ryder didn’t like being played.

  “You should know, I’m in talks with a headhunter.”

  Her expression instantly fell. “I wish you’d give this, the arena, us, a fair shot before deciding.”

  “I doubt it would make a difference.”

  She stiffened. “It certainly won’t make a difference with that kind of attitude.”

  “Good night, Mom.” Ryder left the booth and headed down the stairs. Reaching the bottom he strode briskly toward the barn, his mother’s anguished face refusing to leave him.

  He’d hurt her with his words. It was, after all, what he’d intended. She’d hurt him, too. Then and now.