12 Borrowing Trouble (23 page)

“She can’t call the cops!  I’ll go to jail!  They’ll find
Mom and Izzy and hurt them!” he screeched, his voice cracking in typical thirteen-year-old boy style, as he hopped down to face Dylan.  “Goddammit!” he growled then turned to storm off toward the big house.

Dylan caught him right past the front of the barn.  He grabbed his arm and spun him around.  “Do not use that language again,” he growled.

“You’re not my fucking daddy!” Chris shouted.

“Thank the good Lord for that too!” The words fell out of his mouth and Chris’s face fell.  Hurt entered his eyes, and he pulled his arm out of Dylan’
s grasp.  Dylan’s anger fled, leaving a queasy feeling in his stomach.  “I didn’t mean that, Chris.  Any man would be proud to call you his son.  I just don’t have kids, so I don’t know how to handle this situation.  All I do know is I’ve been in your shoes.  The best thing you can do is come clean.  You have a mother who loves you and wants to help you.  You have a lot more going for you than I did.”

“What happened to your mother?” Chris asked, his jaw still tight.

“She killed herself when I was thirteen,” Dylan replied, and that sick feeling in his stomach worsened.  “My three brothers and I were put into foster care.  None of the homes lasted because I was a badass.  I have no idea where my brothers are.  I haven’t seen them since the day we were separated.  You have your mom and you have Izzy.  Both of them love you.  Talk to them.”

Chris was quiet a minute then he nodded.  “I’ll think about it.”

Well at least that was better than nothing.  “I’m not going to tell her.  I promise.”  It wasn’t his business.  This kid wasn’t his son or his responsibility.  He wanted to help, but unless Chris asked for help, he wasn’t going to step in.  “Now you have a truck to pay for, and we have work to do.  Let’s get to it,” Dylan said walking back to the flatbed.  He didn’t look to see if Chris followed.  Until the kid decided to do the right thing, Dylan had done all he could do for him.

If Sharon and Billy found out what was going on
though, he would be out of New Hope.  They helped kids who were in trouble, but they didn’t help kids who didn’t help themselves.

Until Chris decided to do that, the best thing he could do would be avoid Carrie.  If he saw her, he would be to
o tempted tell her himself. 

That wouldn’t be doing the kid or himself any favors.

***

Carrie hadn’t seen Dylan in two weeks.  He was laying low
, evidently trying to be done with her after their rendezvous at his love shack in the woods.  And with every day that passed, the more upset she became.  She’d thought better of him.  He could at least give her the brush off to her face.  What he was doing, avoiding her, was cowardly.  He hadn’t be up to the house for anything.  Chris had come for visits and gone twice, but still no Dylan. 

Chris said he’d seen him at the barn, worked with him out there, but still he hadn’t bothered to come to the house to see her.  And she definitely wasn’t going out there.
  Well, if he didn’t want to see her, talk to her, then that was fine with her.  She wasn’t going to find him, that was for sure.  Emotion built in her chest like a boiling kettle, and she blew out a breath to relieve some of it before turning her focus back to the cake she was baking. 

This was the third one she’d baked since she’d seen Dylan last.
The third weekend party she was baking for.  Two weeks, three parties.  “Heartless low-life bastard,” she grumbled as she folded the creamed butter and sugar into her cake flour.

“I resemble that remark,” Joel said
, stopping at the counter to swipe his finger in the batter bowl.  He popped it into his mouth and sighed as he slid it slowly back out.

Carrie shot him a hot look, and growled, “Stay out of my batter, Joel.”
  The best thing they could all do was leave her the hell alone.  Especially Penny.  That woman was going to get a piece of her mind if she came back in here bitching about how messy
her
kitchen was.  When Carrie was in here working, this was her kitchen.  She looked back down at the bowl and scraped the sides with her rubber spatula.  “Best thing you can do is stay out of the kitchen.”

“Man, you’re in a bad mood.  What’s up?” he asked casually
, sitting at a bar stool.

“I don’t have time for this, Joel,” she
grated, as she yanked the plug of the mixer out of the socket and carried it to the sink.

“You’ve been a bear to everyone for over a week,” he said in a flatter tone.

She felt like a fucking bear right now.  Frustration rumbled in her chest as she spun back toward the breakfast bar to put her hands on her hips.  “I’m about to start my period.  I have PMS.  Is that enough of an answer for you?”  Definitely her problem at the moment, but far short of all of it.  It was all the answer Joel was going to get though.  The rest was her business.

Joel’s eyebrows shot up and his cheeks turned bright red.  The stool scraped on the floor, he stood so fast.  “Yeah, that explains it.  I’m out of here.  Let me know if you, um, need anything.”  Carrie almost laughed he left so fast. 

But she just didn’t have it in her.  She was pissed and hurt.  As pissed as she’d been in a long time.  Dylan Thomas had done that to her.  She’d let the no-account cowboy do that to her.

The back door flew inward on its hinges, and
Izzy ran in grinning from ear to ear.  “Mom! Mom!  Dylan got me a pink bridle for Snowy!” she said breathlessly as she stopped beside Carrie, proudly holding up a muddy hot pink rope bridle. 

A chunk of dirt fell onto the floor.  Carrie’s eyes tracked down to Izzy’s muddy sneakers, then followed the footprints to the door.  It had rained last night.  It looked like there was no mud left in the yard, because her filthy daughter had just tracked it
all inside.  “Isabella
Grace
!” she screeched, pushing off the counter to head to the pantry for a mop.

“
Ut oh, two names.  I’m sorry, mommy,” Izzy said as she quickly plodded back toward the door, leaving retreating mud footprints on top of the ones she made coming in. 

Carrie had to get the damned cakes in the oven, and now she had another mess to clean up.  It seemed her life was all about cleaning up messes these days.  Her son’s messes, her daughter’s…her own.  Her lower lip wobbled, as she jerked the mop up and grabbed the mob bucket.  Sleeping with Dylan Thomas had created the biggest mess of all.  Letting him near her kids made that worse.  They were getting attached to him
too.  He was making them love him, and he knew he was leaving.  Just like he’d done to her. 

Bastard.

Carrie slid down the door jamb to sit on her butt and let the handle of the bucket fall.  She released the mop then covered her face with her hands.   What the hell was she going to do? 

Deal with it.  Just like she did all the other disappointments and devastations in her life.  Carrie didn’t have the option of quitting.  She was a mother, and by having her kids she’d made a commitment to love them unconditionally.  Even if they tracked mud over the floors, even if they looked for trouble at every opportunity, Carrie loved them with all her heart.  Would always love them, and try to help them clean up their messes. 

That’s what mothers did.

Dylan was another story, but one she didn’t want to think about anymore.  She couldn’t let
herself think about him.  She had work to do.  With a deep sigh, she stood back up and grabbed the mop handle. 

She’d give herself time to think about him tonight.  When she was in bed alone.  When she could cry until she got him out of her system.
  Izzy had her own room now, so Carrie could at least lock her door and find relief there, if not sleep.  She hadn’t been sleeping well at all, so she came down here and baked at all hours of the night.  Even when she didn’t have orders.  As long as she had things cleaned up before eight a.m., when Penny rolled in, things were okay.

Her recipe for relief wasn’t working this time though.  It just gave her quiet time to think about him.  To wonder why he hadn’t spoken to her in two weeks.

She was tired of thinking about him.  Carrie was just tired.

And dammit if she hadn’t just started
her period, but she could only deal with one mess at a time.  With a sigh, she walked back into the kitchen and stopped at the sink to fill up the bucket.  The door open again, and she groaned, then glanced that way.  A tremor rocked her when Dylan stepped inside and shut the door behind him. 

“Well, I think I’ve just seen a ghost,” she said angrily, as she shut off the tap. 
“Thought you’d taken off like you love to do, coward.  What the hell do you want?” 
Tell me you love me.  Tell me you came up here because you missed me
.

Fantasy.  Not gonna happen. 

Carrie hefted the bucket out of the sink and water sloshed on her boots as she set it on the floor.  Dylan was there in a snap, picking up the bucket for her, but he didn’t beat around the bush for the reason behind his sudden visit.  “I came to see if you’d…well, to see if you found out if you’re pregnant yet.” 

Those words made it patently clear to her that avoiding her is exactly what he’d been doing.  And he couldn’t give a shit less about her, or her feelings. 
“I’m great, thank you for asking.  Funny you should pick now to ask that,” Carrie replied acidly.  “Aunt Flo just came to visit, so you can crawl back under the rock you slithered out from under to ask, asshole.  I have nothing else to say to you.” 

She grabbed the bucket from him, and carried it around the  counter.  It sloshed again on her feet as she s
et it down, but Carrie didn’t care.  She was so mad, her boots would probably dry on their own.  Evaporate from the heat she felt all the way down to her toes.  “Now get the hell out of here, so I can mop.” 

And sweep up the pieces of her heart
, which he’d just shattered.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

“Mom, what do you mean you’re moving to
Arizona?!?” Carrie screeched into the phone she held in her white knuckled fingers. 

It had been
almost a month since she’d spoken to her parents, so she decided to call to check on them.  Shortly after hello, her mother had rushed into telling her they were moving to Arizona.  Her father’s arthritis was getting too bad for them to care for the ranch, and he needed a different climate.  And they were selling the ranch, her childhood home, if she didn’t want to come back and take over.

She was a single
mother who hadn’t farmed or ranched in nearly fourteen years.  How the hell was she supposed to maintain a ranch on her own?

“We’re moving, baby girl
,” her mother said firmly.  “Your father and I need to move closer to town.  We’re getting old and need to be nearer to a hospital.”

“
Closer to town
?” she repeated with an incredulous laugh.  “Arizona is not closer to town, mom, that’s a whole other state!” 
Closer to a hospital
.  The words sent fear spiraling through her.  “Mom, Dad’s not sick is he?  You’re not sick?”

Her mom laughed, and Carrie relaxed a little.  “No, honey.  We’re just getting old.  We had you late in life, you forget that.  We need to retire and enjoy
what’s left of our lives.”

Her mother was sixty-eight, which wasn’t really that old, but her dad was seventy-three.  They were getting old, and Carrie knew from living at the ranch, it had become too much for him to manage alone. 

“But Arizona?” she asked with a shake of her head.

Her mother’s voice was very chirpy and excited, as she said,
“We found a condo there that’s really nice.  The dry heat will do your dad’s bones good.” 

A small condo with no yard for a man who’d lived and worked in the wide open space his entire life was going to take some major adjustment.  “Dad’s on board with this?  You know he likes his garden.”

“There’s a community garden there where he can piddle.”

It looked like they had it all figured out.  And they were moving.  To Arizona. 
In a week.  She had one week to decide if she wanted the ranch or not, or they were selling it.

“Mom, you’re the only family I have left,” Carrie said, her voice shaking over the words.

Her mother had to notice, but she just rushed on.  “If you don’t think you want it, we’ll sell the ranch and give you and the kids a good nest egg to see you through.  You’ll have enough to pay for their college if you’re frugal.” 

A nest egg? 
Frugal?  Carrie knew any money they gave her would be quickly gobbled up by the flesh-eating piranhas, also known as bill collectors.  She huffed out a breath.  “I don’t want your money, mom.  You and dad worked hard for that.  You’ll need it to pay your bills in Arizona.”

“We have our social security, and savings, honey.  Don’t worry about us, we’ll be fine.”

Carrie was worried about herself.  She knew her parents had more than enough money saved for their retirement.  They would be fine.  She on the other hand would be homeless, without an anchor or roots.  No fallback plan if this job here at the R & R didn’t work out.

Her kids would be homeless
, and rootless too.  And they wouldn’t have anyone here other than themselves to rely on for help.  It suddenly felt like she was freefalling into a dark abyss. 

“Mom, I have to go,”
Carrie said in a breathless whisper, as she fumbled to hang the phone up on the base.

When she wrapped her head around the fact that
her parents were really leaving her, Carrie would call her mother back.  But right now, she needed some air.  To stretch her legs and clear her head.  What she really wanted to do was scream her frustration at the top of her lungs.   The lake would be a good place to scream.  Out there nobody would hear her.

A ride
to the lake is what she needed.  She hoped she didn’t run into Dylan, or anyone else at the barn.  She didn’t want to talk to anyone right now.

Somehow, her shaky legs carried her to the back door, and she went outside.
  Her sole focus was on getting to the barn, so she didn’t notice Terri emerge from the medic shack until she yelled behind her.  “Wait up!”

Carrie thought about being rude and ignoring her.  She really, really didn’t want to talk to anyone right now.  But she didn’t have rude in her for the woman who had been so good to her and her kids.  She stopped and waited for Terri to catch up.

“You look like a thundercloud.  It’s a gorgeous Saturday, your cakes are made for tonight, so you should be smiling.  Where are you off to in such a hurry?”

Carrie sighed.  “I’m going for ride to the lake,” she replied.

Terri’s smile widened, then she hooked her arm through Carrie’s.  “I’ll go with you.”

Carrie dug in her heels to stop.  “Terri, I really don’t feel like company right now.  I need
to be alone.” 

Terri’s dark brows slammed together and her face sobered. 
She stepped back and put her hands on her hips.  “Somebody here messing with you?” she grated, looking almost like she would if someone threatened her son Jayden.  Mama bear protectiveness.  The same way she felt about her own kids.  Nobody messed with her kids, or family.  That Terri felt that way about her touched her heart.  The people at this ranch were wonderful and caring folks, they’d taken her into their fold without questions, and without really knowing her.  

She sure wished that Dylan realized that too.  He would be a lot better off
if he stayed here.  But he was leaving, as soon as the doctor released him.  Because he was a coward, afraid to love or be loved. 

She missed him, but she needed to get the hell over that, and over him.  She had
other things to think about right now.  More important things than Dylan Thomas and his problems. 

Her decision wouldn’t just affect her and her kids.
If she chose to move back to the ranch, she would be leaving Terri in the lurch to find someone else to do the baking for the pavilion, after she’d given Carrie this golden opportunity.  If she stayed, her parents would sell the ranch and she wouldn’t have anywhere to go if things didn’t work out here.

Carrie needed an income, and ranching wasn’t profitable most times, especially if you did it on a small scale, and alone.  Cake baking
, on the other hand, was proving to be a great business, and she was good at it.  But that could change.  And then she wouldn’t have an income or a place to live for her and her kids.

You wouldn’t really have any bills out there other than electricity and fuel for the tractor to cut the fields
, her mind whispered. 
Or anybody to help her if something happened to her or the kids
, she growled back mentally.  She could cut hay and sell it. That wasn’t a good income, it was seasonal, but it would help supplement Sean’s paltry pension.  She could sell off the stock and horses, and rent the six stalls in the barn to boarders. 

Five stalls, she corrected.  She was keeping Yogi, even though h
e would be another mouth to feed.  She would just put him out to graze during the summer, so she’d only have to feed him in winter.  There was no way she was selling her horse she’d had since she was sixteen.  He was old and crotchety now, but she raised him from a baby.

“You gathering wool?” Terri asked with a laugh.

Carrie dragged herself out of her warring thoughts.  “Yeah, I guess I am.  I have some things to sort out.  I’m sorry I’m being rude…”

Terri nudged her arm.  “No need to be sorry.  Every girl needs space.  Go find your peace, but if you want to talk, you know where to find me.”  With a wink, Terri turned and walked back to the medic shack.  Carrie turned and started toward the barn again.

As she got near the barn, Carrie heard loud whoops echoing on the air.  One sounded a lot like her son’s voice.  Instead of going into the barn, she changed direction and walked around the barn.  Her feet stuttered, then stopped at the white fence surrounding the mechanical bull.  Chris was up on the machine, grinning from ear to ear, with one hand thrown up in the air.  His long skinny legs and the rope cinching his right hand were the only things holding him up on the machine, as it spun to and fro like a real bull.  Carrie’s heart shot up to her throat, and she held her breath, when the bull reversed direction, and he slipped to the left.

“Hell yeah!” he hollered,
adjusting his body to stay on.

“That’s it, Chris!  Keep him under you!” Dylan shouted.
 

That was when she finally noticed
Dylan was the one controlling the bull from the other side of the arena.  His face was just as excited as her son’s.  Their eyes practically sparkled with it.  Neither of them noticed her or anything else going on around them.  That was good, because she just wanted to watch, and yearn for this fantasy to be real. 

The bull changed direction again, Chris slid sideways and Carrie fought the urge to jump the fence and catch him, or yell be careful.  In two bucks he’d gotten himself straight in the saddle
.  He smiled over at Dylan, who looked on proudly.

“Good job, buddy!” Dylan shouted.

“It’s the lucky hat!” Chris yelled back, patting the tattered hat on his head, which looked like it had been stomped on a few times with his free hand, as he swirled to the right on the bull.

“It’s
not the hat. It’s damned good riding,” Dylan countered gruffly.

After a few more gyrations, the bull slowed then came to a stop with one final spin.  Chris hopped down and ran for the control area.  He whooped and Dylan gave him a high five, then clasped his hand to pull him to his chest for a man hug.  He patted the top of Chris’s hat.  “You be sure to wear that thing when you ride.  It’s saved my hide too many times to count.”

Chris looked up at him.  “If I have your lucky hat, what’s gonna save your hide now?” he asked seriously.

“I don’t need luck now, I have skill,” Dylan explained.  “Now you take over the controls and let me go for a ride.  I showed you how they work.  Give me your rankest bull ride kid.  I
need to get ready to get back on.”

“You’re not gonna stay on my
version of Bushwacker.  Two seconds tops,” Chris said arrogantly.  “I’ve been watching those CDs you gave me.”

“Eight,” Dylan replied confidently as h
e walked to the bull, and vaulted on top.  He hooked the rope around his left hand, tested it, adjusted it, then scooted forward.  Chris got at the controls, and when Dylan threw his right hand in the air and nodded, Chris grinned evilly.

With a forceful jerk, the bull took a
deep dip, then an immediate right spin.  Dylan focused on the spot between the bulls shoulders, and moved his body expertly with every buck and spin that Chris gave him.  And Chris hadn’t lied, he gave him everything he had.  No bull could be that crazy and out of control, Carrie thought, as she held her breath watching.  The muscles in Dylan’s back flexed under the thin t-shirt he wore, as he shifted his weight left and right, forward and back to counter the moves of the mechanical bull. 

Chris whooped, and thrust the joystick upward, which made the bull buck harder.  Dylan grunted and his
free hand dipped toward the bull, but he thrust it higher, along with his chin.  She could see the fierce determination on his face, as Chris swung the bull left, then sharply right.

Dylan’s body slid to the left,
his hat flew off and he was on the side of the bull as it swung around for another circle, then another.  Dylan fought with the rope that held his left hand to the machine.  It looked like his hand was stuck in the rope.  Fear shot to her throat.  Chris didn’t notice, he was so caught up in the excitement.

“Chris stop!” Carrie shouted, as she scrambled over the fence. 
When she reached him, his head was bent as he pressed buttons on the box frantically, but the machine kept spinning, dragging Dylan around and around as it went. 

“Chris cut it off
,” she yelled, running across the ring toward him.  She glanced back at the bull and Dylan’s feet were dragging in the dirt as he was pulled around and around by the bull. 

“I can’t mom!” Chris said, pressing even more buttons, pulling switches.  The bull reversed direction again, took a couple of big bucks, and Dylan groaned loudly.

“Hit the kill switch!” Dylan yelled, then groaned again as the bull made yet another turn.

A red button on the side of the machine caught her attention, and
with her heart pounding out of her chest, Carrie slapped it, praying it was the right one, and wouldn’t make things worse.

The bull jerked to a stop and Dylan sighed loudly, his chin dropping to his chest as he got his feet under him.  She could see the pain in his pinched face as he untangled the rope to get his
hand free.  When he got it, his arm immediately dropped to his side and he cradled it.  “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he grumbled, bending at the waist to hold his arm to his stomach.

“Chris, go get Terri,” Carrie said breathlessly, fighting the urge to get sick as she hopped the fence to go to Dylan
.  He had dropped to his knees in the middle of the ring to rock while holding his elbow.   Chris took off running, and Carrie did too.  She dropped beside Dylan and put her arm around his shoulders.  “What hurts?”