Almost a Cowboy (33 page)

While Caroline sat at her mother’s table listening to the laundry list of aches and pains the woman had, Arial climbed all over her. The kitten had grown in the weeks she’d been on the road, and Caroline felt a pang that she’d missed it.

It’s just a cat. I saw so much more with Utah.

Caroline stayed for a supper of baked chicken, potatoes, and green beans. For dessert her mother served angel food cake with strawberries and whipped cream.

“Your favorite when you were little,” her mother said, licking the back of her spoon clean of whipped cream.

Caroline nodded. Arial had finally settled on her lap, purring while she ate. “It feels good to sit here and eat home-cooking.”

Her mother eyed her. “Wonder what that man of yours is eating up there on the ranch all by himself?”

“He’s not my man.”

“No? Well, it seemed that way when you left. You had that light back in your eyes, Caroline.”

“Light?” Her heart hitched and changed rhythm.

“The light you had in your youth. The one you lost when Utah left, and you married Jeremy.”

“Don’t talk about him.” She set her spoon down.

“When should we talk about him? I think it’s high time. Because you’re obviously not over him—”

“I’m over him! I never even loved him!” She vibrated with anger, and Arial jumped to the linoleum floor and padded away.

“I know you didn’t, sweetheart. So why not latch on to the only love you’ve ever felt?” Her mother leveled her gaze at Caroline, making her feel fifteen years old again.

“I don’t think I’ll stay for rummy tonight, Ma. I’ll gather Arial and go.”

Her mother sighed and set down her spoon too. “I was wrong to stop you from marrying that boy when you were seventeen.” She heaved a sigh. “You keep on running, Caroline. But it won’t make you feel any better about what happened between you and Jeremy. Don’t let it shadow what you and Utah still have.”

“I’m not the same girl Utah knew. He thinks I am. That’s what he wants.”

Her mother arched a long, pale brow. “That so? When you came here a few weeks ago with him, it seemed he was pretty smitten with the woman I see before me now.”

Ignoring her mother’s words was easy on the surface, but deep down they ate at Caroline. Her mother didn’t offer to drive her a few blocks home with her bag, cat, and all the cat’s gear. So Caroline took what she could and set off on foot, Arial tucked in her arm.

The jarring thuds of the sledgehammer on the wooden post vibrated through Utah’s arms and shoulders. Sweat dripped into one eye, and he squinted against the sting.

Working hard toward a goal felt good. In the past week he’d laid what felt like ten miles of fencing and scoured the house top to bottom. He put away his mother’s knickknacks and most of the dusty pictures of his pa. He’d also dumped the remnants of his childhood still in his bedroom on the curb for garbage pickup.

He no longer had a use for football trophies or letterman jackets. He’d purchased bedding for his old double bed, but eventually he planned to exorcise Hollis’s memory by renovating the master bedroom. Then he’d get a big old king-sized bed and put Caroline in it.

Since dropping her at her mother’s, he hadn’t seen her. But he’d gotten himself a cell phone, and they’d spoken and texted. He was a hopeless texter—all thumbs. But she seemed to understand him well enough to continue to stay away.

One of the new horses trotted by him, tossing its chestnut head. Its coat shined in the late afternoon sun. He grinned at its show. “You’re fit for a nine-year-old to ride.”

The horse circled the small paddock and came back to nose his hand.

He laughed. “I don’t have any apples right now. I’m workin’.”

“Workin’ hard,” someone said from behind him.

Utah pivoted to see Clinton. He set the sledgehammer at his feet with a
thump
.

“Mailbox looks good,” Clinton said.

“Yeah. That’s the first thing I fixed.”

His brother jerked his jaw toward the resurrected fencing. “You’ve made a lot of improvements.”

“There’s a ton more to do.”

“Won’t take too long if you have help.”

Utah swiped the sweat from his forehead. It darkened his leather glove. “Can’t afford help. Not yet, anyway.”

“I’m talkin’ about me and Gunn. I can come up some nights and weekends.”

A kernel of warmth spread through Utah. The corners of his mouth tipped up. “I’d like that.”

Clinton dug one heel into the ground. “Look, I’m sorry we got off on the wrong boot.”

Utah shook his head. “Probably deserved, and I’m sorry too.”

“Gunn told me all about the family. They really all coming here?”

“Yep. End of the week. Berger’s all set to read the will.”

“I can’t believe you found them all.”

Utah eyed his brother. “You realize this may not be all. These are just the ones Pa claimed. But I have evidence he wasn’t even faithful to those women.”

Clinton’s face aged a little more at that revelation. “Damn. It makes me sick.”

“I know. While he was raising us to be right and honest, he was sinning all over the place. We’ll probably never understand why he did it. What drove him.”

“Does it matter now?”

Utah stared at his brother for a long minute. Since embarking on the journey to find his siblings, he’d been dying to get inside his pa’s psyche. For the first time, Utah wondered if it really did matter. “You’re right. Doesn’t matter a damn bit.”

Clinton looked out over the land. “Fields need cut. I can mow next week.”

“That would be appreciated. The old tractor needs work.”

“I think it’s best to get a new one.”

“I’ll have to.” With what money was beyond him. He wasn’t going to buy cattle, a tractor, and do renovations on the little amount he’d stockpiled from running furs. “Wanna find a coupla cold ones?”

“Sounds good.” Clinton followed him across the yard to the house. Once inside, he released a low whistle. “You
have
been busy.”

“It was long overdue.”
And I don’t have a pretty little woman to occupy my time.
He headed straight for the refrigerator and the ice cold beers. He and Clinton leaned against the worn countertops and drank.

When his brother half-drained his, he said, “Alyssa and I would like you to come up for dinners.”

Utah stopped swallowing the cold liquid heaven and stared at him. “Dinners? Plural?”

“Yeah. Alyssa suggested it, actually. She loves to cook, and we have too many leftovers for my liking.”

Utah snorted a laugh. “Now I’m the leftover vacuum.”

“Somethin’ like that.”

The warm feeling in Utah’s chest raised another degree. “I’d love to.” He’d met Alyssa and their two kids, Jake and Sarah, when he’d returned from his road trip. A good family. And he was jealous.

Clinton knocked back the rest of his beer and tossed the empty bottle in the trash from a few feet away. It clanked against a few others Utah had deposited there. “Good. Come at six. Alyssa likes clean boots.”

They both stared at Utah’s mud-caked ones.

“All right,” Utah drawled.

Clinton started out of the kitchen. Over his shoulder, he said, “And bring Caroline if you want.”

Utah’s heart flipped. God, did he want to. Would she come? He could text her, and she’d probably get the gist of it. Or she’d give some stupid excuse.

He wondered if she’d turned in her article. He was looking forward to it being published and had subscribed to the newspaper she wrote for. In fact, he should receive a paper right around the time his siblings started showing up.

Grabbing his cell phone from his back pocket, he stared at the display. Aurora had texted him while he’d been working. “C U @airport 7:15 flight
.
”

He texted her back. “Willk pick ou up
.
” With a sigh that he’d never master the art of texting, he pulled up Caroline’s contact. Her picture smiled at him, but would she smile at him in person?

Before he lost his nerve, he stabbed the button with a forefinger. Her phone rang twice before she answered.

“Hey, baby.”

A beat of silence followed his greeting. Then she said, “Hi, Utah.”

“How are you?”

More silence followed by her reply, her voice thicker than usual. “I’m okay. How are you?”

Miserable. Dying inside. Please let me come get you.
“Working hard on the ranch. You should come see what I’ve done.”

“Maybe I will sometime.” Her noncommittal response made his fingertips numb with fear.

“Actually I’m calling to invite you to supper at Clinton’s house.”

Dead silence. Utah’s mind raced. She was trying to formulate a good excuse, but he wouldn’t buy it no matter what it was. She just didn’t want to spend time with him.

“That’s nice of them, but I can’t.”

“Maybe another time. I’ll see you around, Caroline.” He rushed through the conversation before he roared his fury with her—and the situation. Dammit, she belonged with him. Why was she being so stubborn?

Another pause, and then she said good-bye in a voice so forlorn he wondered if he was finally getting to her. He repocketed his phone and spun to stare from the small kitchen window over the sink. He could drive into town and show up on her doorstep again. Would she yank him inside as she had that first night?

In the end, he chose to work on the fence some more because he’d be shattered by her rejection.

•●•

Caroline slumped on the sofa and flipped blindly through an online shopping site. She had no interest in anything but what was going on with the Davies right now. Even her drive to complete her human interest piece had fled.

She took out her phone and considered calling Utah, but…no. She had to exist on her own again. Her daydreams had to come to an end.

Her phone bleeped, and she glanced at the screen. Her editor. Sitting up, she read it.

“Great story! We’re going to press.”

“Jesus,” Caroline breathed. Heart racing, she stabbed a button that would connect her with her editor.

“Caroline! You were so busy the past few weeks that I figured a text was better—”

Cutting her off, Caroline said, “What do you mean by ‘great story, we’re going to press’? What story?”

“The cowboy daddy/secret babies all over the country story. Wonderful stuff! The intrigue curled my toes, and the way you wrote it, so sympathetically—”

Caroline’s fingertips grew cold, and her tone frigid. “Are you telling me that you swiped that story from the cloud storage?”

More hesitant now. “Well, yes.”

“Why would you do that?” Caroline wasn’t going apeshit—yet. Not until she heard there was no way to stop that article from going to press.

Obviously detecting the murder in her tone, the editor backpedaled. “You weren’t going to meet your deadline, and I know you save articles in the cloud. I thought I’d take a look, see what might be worthy, then I struck gold!”

“You struck gold.”
Caroline’s chest burned with the scream she was holding back.

“Caroline, baby, I don’t think you realize what a fabulous writer you are.”

She bit into her lower lip and dragged two deep breaths into her scorching lungs before speaking. If she wanted to keep her job, she needed to remain calm. But inside she was a screeching, stomping basket case tearing handfuls of hair out.

When she opened her mouth, all attempts to hold onto her temper vanished. “Get that story back! You are not releasing it!”

“What? It’s too late for that. It’s being inked right now.”

“Ohmigod, whywouldyoudothat?” Her words slurred into one guttural groan. She sounded like a supervillain about to unleash on the city. Or on her editor. Gripping the phone until her knuckles popped, she screamed into it. “That piece wasn’t for the paper! That story is personal, and the people it involves are going to hate me for writing it!”

“Why did you, then?”

Shocked, she gulped down her next words. “That is personal. Not your business, and certainly not that of the subscribers to the paper! Now you go in there and tell the president that the article is bogus, a lie.
Get it back.
”