- -
- 100%
- +
“How’s your breakfast?” he asked.
The baby responded by offering a fistful of scrambled egg.
Clay nudged the little boy’s hand toward his mouth. “Bennett, eat.”
And he did, happily.
Toni returned with a platter laden with scrambled eggs, crisp bacon, browned sausages and savory fried potatoes in one hand and a full coffeepot in the other. She set the platter on the table and filled Clay’s and Forrest’s mugs before making her way down the table, offering refills to the other boarders who were lingering at breakfast.
Forrest loaded up his plate, then immediately focused his attention on his meal. Clay scooped up a forkful of eggs, but found his gaze following Toni as she made her way back to the kitchen.
“Transference,” Forrest said.
Clay looked up, startled by the abrupt pronouncement. “What?”
“Transference,” his brother said again. “It’s the redirection of emotions, usually in the context of a therapist-patient relationship but also occurring in other situations.”
Clay wasn’t sure he was following. Although he knew that one of the reasons Forrest had chosen to come to Thunder Canyon was to continue working in a therapy group with Annabel Cates and her dog, Smiley.
“Are you saying that you have feelings for your therapist?”
His brother snorted. “I’m talking about you, not me.”
Now Clay was even more confused. “You think I have feelings for your therapist?”
“I think you’re still feeling guilty about not being there for Delia when she was pregnant—”
“I didn’t know she was pregnant,” he interrupted to remind his brother.
“—and you want to make up for it by demonstrating an interest in the stages of pregnancy, resulting in your infatuation with our expectant landlady.”
“I’m not infatuated with our landlady.”
Forrest continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “The fact that she doesn’t have a husband just makes her a more obvious target of your attention.”
“What’s obvious to me is that you have too much time on your hands if these are the scenarios you’re dreaming up.”
“‘That looks heavy, Toni,’” Forrest said, mimicking his brother. “‘Let me get it for you.’ ‘I’m going into town, Toni. Do you need me to pick anything up?’”
Clay scowled at his sibling, although he was more annoyed because he realized that Forrest was right. “Is there something wrong with wanting to be helpful?”
“Not at all,” Forrest denied. “So long as you’re aware of the rationale behind your actions.”
Clay thought he understood his rationale far better than his brother did, and it had absolutely nothing to do with Toni’s pregnancy. Truthfully, every time he caught a glimpse of her rounded belly, his mind started, because when he looked at his gorgeous landlady, the absolute last thing on his mind was that she was a mother-to-be.
No, his feelings for Toni Wright had absolutely nothing to do with any latent parental instincts he might possess and everything to do with simple masculine appreciation. He was a man, she was a beautiful woman, and he wanted to get her naked.
“But what do I know?” Forrest said now, a teasing note in his voice. “I’m not a father. Maybe you want to double your diapers, double your fun.”
Clay shook his head emphatically. “Bennett gives me more diaper changes than any man should have to handle.”
As if in response to his name, the little boy looked up from the egg he was smearing on his tray and smiled, and Clay actually felt his heart squeeze inside his chest.
Maybe he hadn’t thought too much about having children before Delia showed up at his door with Bennett, and maybe he’d denied—instinctively, and perhaps a little too vehemently—that he could be the baby’s father, and maybe his offer to let Delia and the child stay with him had been made more grudgingly than willingly. But living with a woman and her child, even temporarily, had been a huge adjustment for Clay, especially considering that his relationship with Delia had been, by mutual agreement, a strictly no-strings arrangement.
But a child wasn’t just a string. The possibility that he might actually be the boy’s father had felt like a noose around his neck. A noose that grew tighter with every day that passed until he woke up one morning to the sound of a screaming baby and realized that Delia was gone. He’d almost accepted that he might be Bennett’s father and had started to think about the practicalities of shared parenting, then suddenly, there was no one around to share any of the responsibilities.
Delia had the benefit of nine months to come to terms with the fact that she would have a baby—nine months to prepare for the arrival of her child and the realities of motherhood. But she’d shown up on his doorstep without any kind of warning and, not even giving him nine days to accept the fact that he was a father, ran off, abandoning the baby into his care. And with the realization that she was well and truly gone, the noose had pulled so taut that Clay could hardly breathe.
It was Bennett’s frantic cries that had finally penetrated the chaotic thoughts swirling through his brain, that made him realize he didn’t have the luxury of panicking or falling part because there was a tiny person who needed him. And with Delia well and truly gone, there was no doubt that Bennett needed him, so Clay stepped up to the plate.
The first time Bennett’s tiny fist had curled around his finger, Clay had been lost. The wave of affection for the little boy had knocked him flat with all the subtlety of a freight train. And the first time that Bennett had smiled at him, just a few weeks later, Clay had vowed to his son that he would never let Delia take him away. By the time he got the report from the lab, he’d realized that the DNA results didn’t even matter.
It was his mother who had encouraged him to open the envelope, anyway. Ellie Traub had accepted the baby more quickly and easily than he had done. In fact, from day one, she’d positively doted on the child, which was why she’d insisted he had to know what legal status he had with respect to the little boy. She was as thrilled as she was relieved to have scientific proof that Bennett was her grandson—and none too happy when Clay first told her of his plans to leave town with the baby.
Truth be told, Clay had vacillated for weeks before making the decision. As much as he wanted to get out of Rust Creek Falls for a while—and away from the nosy gossipers who liked to offer unsolicited suggestions to the new dad—he’d worried that he wouldn’t be able to manage on his own with the baby. His mother had been an enormous help, offering not just her own tried-and-true baby care advice, but giving him hands-on assistance whenever he was feeling overwhelmed. Which, over the first few months, was quite frequently.
As if on cue, the phone he’d tucked into his jacket pocket began to vibrate. He checked the display and smiled as he connected the call.
“Hi, Mom.”
“Where’s your brother?”
He glanced across the table. “Why are you calling my cell if you’re looking for Forrest?”
The brother in question shook his head and pushed away from the table, pointing to his watch and miming his intention to drive into town.
“Because he doesn’t answer his phone,” Ellie complained.
“Maybe he’s driving,” Clay suggested.
“Maybe,” she allowed. “Or maybe he’s ignoring my calls.”
“Why would you think that?”
“Because he hasn’t been very communicative since he got back from Iraq.”
Watching his brother make a hasty escape from the dining room, he couldn’t deny that was true. “He just needs some time, Mom.”
“I’ve tried to be patient,” Ellie said. “But I need to know that he’s doing okay.”
“He is,” Clay assured her. “I promise.”
“Well, I want to see for myself, and I need a grandbaby fix, so your dad and I are thinking about making a trip to Thunder Canyon this weekend.”
“We’d love to see you.”
“Good. I’ve already spoken to Allaire. She promised to pull some strings to get the private dining room at D.J.’s Rib Shack for the whole family. Friday night at seven.”
“That works for me,” Clay told her.
“Make sure it works for your brother.”
“I’ll try,” he said, unwilling to make any promises on Forrest’s behalf.
“I guess I’ll have to be satisfied with that,” she allowed. “Now tell me how my grandson’s doing.”
Clay was happy to regale his mother with details about Bennett’s growth and development and everything else he’d been doing over the past few weeks.
He didn’t tell Ellie that the little boy seemed to have developed a major crush on their landlady at Wright’s Way—because he was afraid that Bennett wasn’t the only one.
Chapter Two
Antonia usually waited until most of the boarders had left before she started clearing the tables, and when she returned to the dining room today, she saw that aside from Clay and his son the room was completely empty. As she began to stack plates, she could tell that Clay was on the phone, and though she wasn’t trying to listen in, she couldn’t help overhearing bits and pieces of his conversation.
And then she heard him say, “I love you, too.”
The words, spoken with easy affection, made her pause with a handful of cutlery in her fist. But before she could even begin to speculate about who might be on the other end of the line, he added, “Mom,” and she let out a breath she hadn’t even realized she was holding.
It wasn’t any of her business, of course. And she really hadn’t intended to eavesdrop. But when she glanced over as he disconnected the call, his gaze met hers and she knew that she’d been busted. Her cheeks filled with color.
He pushed his chair back as she picked up the stack of plates. “Let me get those for you.”
“Thanks, but I’ve got it.”
“They’ve got to be heavy.”
She couldn’t help but smile at that. “I’ve been working on this ranch since I was a kid. Before I got pregnant, I was mucking out stalls and training horses. I think I can handle a stack of plates.”
“You’ve been carting plates and platters from the kitchen since 6:00 a.m.,” he pointed out. “Why don’t you sit down for a minute?”
“Because these dishes won’t put themselves in the dishwasher.”
Bennett banged his cup on his tray, then held it out to her.
“I think somebody wants more juice.” Just a couple of weeks earlier, Clay had told her that he’d introduced the little boy to apple juice diluted with sterile water. Since then, Antonia had ensured she always had some on hand. “Can I get him a refill?”
“Sure,” Clay agreed.
The baby smiled at her as she took his cup, and her heart melted.
“Coming right up,” she promised.
While she was in the kitchen refilling Bennett’s drink, Clay gathered up the rest of the dishes still on the table.
“Are you trying to get me fired?” she asked, when she returned with the juice.
“I don’t think you’ll lose your job because you let someone else carry a few plates into the kitchen,” he chided.
He was right, of course, but that wasn’t the point. The point was that she was used to doing things for herself—she preferred doing things for herself. And she’d learned a long time ago that if she didn’t depend on anyone else, she didn’t have to worry about being disappointed.
Bennett took the cup and yawned.
“Are you ready for a nap already?” she asked.
His only response was to lift his arms up to her.
She hesitated, because every time she picked him up, she never wanted to let him go again. But Bennett was clearly tired of being strapped in his chair and, based on the sounds emanating from the kitchen, Clay was thoroughly occupied with the dishes and not planning to return to the dining room anytime soon.
With a sigh that was more resignation than reluctance, Antonia removed the tray from Bennett’s chair, unfastened his belt and lifted him into her arms. He curled into her easily, his head dropping against her shoulder, his eyes already drifting shut.
She’d never thought it was possible to fall in love so quickly and completely, but since the doctor had confirmed the news of her pregnancy, Antonia had realized that none of the usual rules applied to babies. She didn’t know if it was their innocence and vulnerability or her own maternal instincts, but she’d always had a weakness for children. From the moment she first suspected that she was pregnant, she’d been overwhelmed by emotion. And the first time Bennett had looked at her with his big blue eyes, she’d been hooked.
Now, with the slight weight of his body in her arms and the subtle scents of baby powder and shampoo teasing her nostrils, that hook snared her heart even more deeply.
She ventured into the kitchen and confirmed that Clay was loading up the dishwasher. Not with the skill or efficiency of someone who had a lot of experience, but he was getting the job done.
“Why don’t you take Bennett back to your room for a nap and let me do that?” she suggested.
“He doesn’t sleep for more than fifteen or twenty minutes after breakfast,” Clay told her. “So if you could sit with him for a little bit while I finish up here, that would be great.”
“Why don’t you sit with him while I finish cleaning up?” Antonia countered.
“Because I’m almost done here,” he pointed out.
His logic was indisputable and, with a sense of relief she refused to let him see, Antonia settled into one of the wooden ladder-back chairs beside the old kitchen table.
Bennett snuggled in, rubbing his cheek against her shirt, and Antonia’s heart gave another squeeze.
She didn’t know anything about the little boy’s mother—who she was or where she was. She only knew that in the five weeks that had passed since Clayton Traub had showed up at Wright’s Way with his son, she hadn’t heard a single word about the woman who’d given birth to the darling little boy. And she had to admit, the lack of information made her curious.
Not any of your business, she mentally admonished herself.
Just like information about her baby’s father was no one’s business but her own.
“He’s never taken to strangers,” Clay noted. “But there’s no doubt that he likes you.”
And because it was too good an opening to resist, she ignored her own admonition to herself and said, “Maybe I remind him of his mother.”
“Not likely,” Clay said. “Considering that he hasn’t seen her since he was two weeks old.”
She looked up, startled by this revelation. “Why not?”
“She decided a baby was too much to handle and she left him with me and moved to California.”
Antonia was stunned.
She couldn’t imagine any mother choosing to walk away from her child. Her baby wasn’t even born yet and she knew there was nothing she wouldn’t do for him or her. But of course she didn’t say any of that to Clay, she said only, “Why California?”
“To be a movie star.”
“She was an actress?”
“A much better one than I ever suspected,” he noted wryly.
She didn’t have any trouble picking up on the undercurrents in that response. “It must have been difficult—to be on your own with a newborn.”
“That’s the understatement of the century,” he admitted. “I hadn’t planned on becoming a father at this point in my life and I knew absolutely nothing about babies. In fact, I’m not sure either Bennett or I would have made it through the first few weeks without my mom.”
In many ways, Clay’s story was similar to her own. She hadn’t planned on becoming a mother at this point in her life, either, and while she wouldn’t say she knew “absolutely nothing” about babies, her experience was limited. But unlike Bennett, her baby wouldn’t have a grandmother to help them through the rough patches.
She shifted her gaze away, so Clay wouldn’t see the tears in her eyes. “You’re lucky to have her,” she murmured.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I forgot that your mother passed away.”
She nodded. “Two years ago.”
“I bet you miss her.”
“Now more than ever,” Antonia admitted.
Lucinda Wright had been more than a parent. In a lot of ways, she’d been her best friend, and Antonia missed her gentle guidance and sage advice. Mostly she missed the way her mother always knew when she was worried about something, she missed the comforting weight of the arm she would put across her daughter’s shoulders and the confidence in her voice when she promised that everything would work out for the best.
As her baby shifted in her belly, Antonia wanted desperately to believe her mother’s promise, but right now she didn’t have a clue what would be best for her baby.
Clay didn’t see his brother again until later that night. Aside from the twice weekly group therapy sessions at the hospital, he wasn’t sure what Forrest did to occupy all the hours in his day. Then again, some people probably wondered what Clay did to fill his days, but anyone who had ever been responsible for the full-time care of a baby wouldn’t need to wonder. Bennett kept his daddy hopping 24/7.
He was in the common room on the main floor of the boarding house, watching a National League playoff game, when Forrest came in with a bowl of popcorn and a couple bottles of beer. Sometimes the room was so crowded it was impossible to find a chair, but most of the boarders started work early in the morning and, consequently, retired to their rooms early at night—particularly at the beginning of the week. So tonight, Clay had been alone with the ball game until his brother joined him.
He accepted the bottle Forrest handed to him and took a long swallow before setting it on the coffee table beside the baby monitor.
“Ben’s asleep already?”
“It’s almost ten o’clock,” Clay pointed out.
Forrest looked disappointed.
Clay hadn’t been thrilled when his brother enlisted, but he understood that Forrest wanted to serve his country and that it was his decision to make. But when he came home, it was apparent to everyone that the injury to his leg wasn’t the deepest of his wounds.
And yet there had been rare moments when Clay caught glimpses of the easygoing brother he remembered. There had been a few more of those moments since they’d come to Thunder Canyon, illustrated by good-natured teasing and dry humor. But the clearest evidence was in his brother’s interactions with Bennett. The little boy was the only one—at least so far—who had proven capable of breaching all of Forrest’s defenses.
“There was a time when he didn’t settle down until midnight,” Forrest recalled.
“Then I wised up and stopped letting him nap after dinner.”
“If you kept him up later at night, he wouldn’t be awake so early in the morning.”
Clay shrugged. “I’m used to starting the day early.”
“Do you miss it?”
Forrest was asking about the work he’d done on the family ranch back in Rust Creek Falls, and Clay nodded. “I miss the physical labor, the satisfaction that comes from getting a job done, and I feel guilty as hell for leaving Dad, Dallas, Braden, Sutter and Collin with all the work.”
“You didn’t have to come to Thunder Canyon to babysit me,” Forrest told him.
“I didn’t come to babysit you,” Clay told him. “I came because I couldn’t stand being the center of attention every time I took Bennett into town. It was as if no one had ever known anyone who was a single father before.”
“Try being the wounded war hero,” Forrest told him. “People tiptoed around me as if my gimp leg was contagious—or maybe it’s the rumors of my PTSD that freaked them out.”
“Not everyone was freaked out,” Clay reminded him. “In fact, Marla James only wanted to show her appreciation for the sacrifice you made for our country.”
Forrest tipped his bottle to his lips, but Clay saw the color rise in his brother’s cheeks.
“I still haven’t decided whether I should thank you or kick your ass for deflecting her attention,” he finally said.
Clay just grinned.
Marla James’s crush on Forrest had been something of a legend in Rust Creek Falls. Her family had moved into town the summer before she started fifth grade, and on the first day of school, she’d set her sights on Forrest Traub and had never looked back. It didn’t matter how many times he brushed her off or how many other girls he dated, she remained adamant that they would one day be together. When Forrest returned from Iraq, she decided that day had finally come.
She stopped by the Traub Ranch at least once a day to check on her injured hero. Forrest—wounded more deeply than the scars on his leg—wasn’t even kind in his dismissal of her efforts, but Marla refused to be dissuaded. Not until Clay, with feigned embarrassment and reluctance, implied that his brother’s injury had affected more than his leg and that he wasn’t able to appreciate what she was offering.
Marla had cried genuine tears over that, but her lifelong love for Forrest clearly was not as strong as her sexual desires.
“You could always call Marla up and tell her you’re all better now,” Clay teased.
“If only that were true,” Forrest said.
And Clay knew his brother’s comment had nothing to do with the fabricated injury. Which was why Ellie was so worried about her son, and why Clay had to do everything he could to keep his promise to his mother.
“Bennett and I are going to take a drive to Billings for a farm auction in the morning to check out a tractor that’s on the block. Did you want to come with us?”
Forrest just shook his head and munched on a handful of popcorn.
“Okay,” Clay said easily. “How about dinner at D.J.’s Friday night?”
His brother looked up at that, his gaze narrowing. “Friday is three days from now,” he noted. “Since when do you plan that far ahead?”
So much for thinking that he could slip anything past Forrest. But instead of answering the question directly, he only shrugged, as if his brother’s response was of no concern to him. “If you’ve got a hot date and don’t want to go, just say so.”
Forrest lifted a brow. “Well, I’ve had so many hot dates recently I’d have to check my calendar to know for sure.”
“You do that,” Clay advised.
His brother mimed thumbing through a little black book. “I have Skinny Ginny penciled in, but I can reschedule. At least at D.J.’s, I’ll get some meat on my ribs.”
“I’m glad to see your sense of humor is still intact,” Clay noted. “Even if it’s deeply buried most days.”
Forrest looked away. “Just ‘cause I said I’d go out with you Friday night doesn’t give you the right to turn this into some touchy-feely moment.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Clay assured him.
“Good.” Forrest tipped the bottle to his lips and shifted his gaze back to the television.
D.J.’s Rib Shack in the Thunder Canyon Resort was usually busy, especially on a Friday night. While Antonia waited for her friend Catherine to arrive, she glanced around the restaurant with its sepia-toned pictures of cowboys and an extensive mural that depicted a visual history of the town. But more than the décor, it was the scent of D.J.’s famous sauce thick in the air that assured the customers packed into the benches and booths that they would enjoy genuine Western barbecue.
Antonia breathed in deeply, inhaling the rich aroma, and the baby kicked in approval—or maybe it was demand. If Antonia was hungry, it was a good bet that her baby was, too.
“I feel like Pavlov’s dog,” a familiar voice said from behind her. “I just walk through the door of this place, and my mouth starts to water.”
Antonia laughed and hugged her friend. “I know what you mean.”
The hostess led them to a booth against the back wall.
When the waitress came, they ordered right away, both familiar enough with the menu to know what they wanted. Fifteen minutes later, they were digging into plates laden with saucy ribs, fresh-cut fries and tart coleslaw. Antonia had considered ordering the daily vegetable option rather than fries, but the baby wanted fries and she’d learned not to ignore the baby’s demands. If she indulged now, she wouldn’t find herself raiding the fridge at three o’clock in the morning.