Finally Home (22 page)

“I'll get it,” he said. In a moment he had disappeared into the entryway.

“I bet you have a lot of unexpected guests around mealtime,” Monica said. “This stuffed squash is exemplary, Emily.”

“I thought it was a little dry.”

“Not at all,” Monica countered. “It's wonderful. Did I detect a hint of . . .” She narrowed her eyes a little. Her makeup was expertly applied, her brows brushed upward like feathery wings. Small gold hoops adorned her earlobes. “. . . Tarragon in the sauce?”

“Just a little,” Emily said and tried her damnedest to sound normal. “I'm surprised you could taste it.”

“Mother's a gourmet,” Sophie said.

Emily wasn't certain what to make of the girl's tone. Pride? Resentment? It was entirely possible there was a trace of both in that one simple statement. Welcome to the world of unfettered emotions. A world Emily had hoped she'd left behind in the maternity ward.

“Thank you, darling,” Monica said. “But I'm afraid I'd have to find time to cook to be considered a gourmet. I used to enjoy dabbling a bit, though, when life wasn't so hectic. Recently, things have been—”

Her words stopped cold. Her carefully groomed brows sprang upward as Colt stepped back into the kitchen. Beside him was Philip Jaegar, Sophie's father and Monica Day-Bellaire's erstwhile husband.

CHAPTER 22

“D
addy!” Sophie's voice was taut, her knuckles bone white against the handle of her fork.

Ty tightened his fist beneath the table and remained very still, though every odd instinct quarreling inside him insisted that he leap from his chair and step between the girl and her father. How damned strange was that?

“Hey, Soph,” Jaegar said. He carried a red paper bag in one hand. A long, narrow box and two chunky square ones peeked over the top. All were wrapped in bright green foil and multicolored ribbon.

“What are you doing here?” Sophie had smoothed her tone a little. But her cheeks were brushed pink, her eyes as bright as the packages he carried.

He shrugged and grinned sheepishly. Philip Jaegar was charming. “I couldn't stay away from my best girl at Christmas.” He shifted his gaze slightly to the left. A tendon in his neck jumped a little. “You didn't tell me your mother was here. How are you, Monica?” Ty couldn't help but notice that he did
not
use the long e sound when he said her name.

“I'm well.” Her tone was crisp, her chin lifted another half inch, as if facing a contingency of her peers . . . or possibly a firing squad. “I didn't realize how lovely the Lazy Windmill was.”

“Well . . .” Jaegar smiled again. The expression looked a little predatory. “Nobody kept you from coming here for the past six months. But I suppose Paris
is
more appealing in—”

“Daddy!” Sophie said and jerked to her feet. “I thought you were in the Caribbean.”

Some emotion passed over Jaegar's eyes. Shame maybe.

“I left early,” he said. “There was an estate closing in town that I had to take care of, but enough about me. How's everyone else?” He scanned the faces around him. Casie looked worried, Max curious, Monica mad enough to spit. “Emily, it smells heavenly in here. As always.”

Casie was the first to recover. “You must be starving. Here . . .” She hurried forward to pull a folding chair from the living room closet. “Have a seat.”

“Oh no,” he demurred immediately. “I won't bother you. I just wanted to—”

“It's no bother,” Emily said. Ty was pretty darn sure she was wrong about that, but as Colt had once said, she had a need to feed. “There's plenty left. You know I always cook for an army.”

“Really,” he said. “I'll just drop off these gifts and be on my way.”

“You don't want to hurt Em's feelings,” Colt said. “You know how sensitive these culinary artists are.” He grinned a little as he took the chair from Casie and nestled it next to Lincoln's. “Sit down.”

“I really shouldn't,” Jaegar said, but he was already moving toward the table. There weren't a whole bunch of people who appreciated home cooking more than Philip Jaegar.

Emily set a plate in front of him just as Bliss began to cry from the other room.

“I got her,” Ty said, and pushing back his chair, left the crowded kitchen behind him.

The baby grinned crookedly as he lifted her to his chest, a small, tight bundle of life against his heart. By the time he drifted back toward the table, Jaegar had taken his first bite and was extolling its virtues.

Lincoln lifted his gaze to Ty as he entered the room. Their eyes met for an instant and then the older boy rose to his feet. His movements were jerky, his body tense.

“Don't you want dessert?” Casie asked.

“Naw,” he said and left the kitchen. In a moment the door closed behind him.

His exodus was greeted with a moment of silence.

“He must not have tasted your apple dumplings yet, huh, Em?” Jaegar asked. “Otherwise you'd have to pry him from the table with a crowbar.”

“I prefer her suet pudding,” Monica said. “It's Sophia's favorite, too, isn't it, darling?”

Sophie blinked. She looked a little like she was going to be sick. “I like them both.”

“You should taste her raspberry turnovers,” Casie said as she glanced from one parent to the other. “They're better than . . .” She paused. The woman was an excellent equestrienne and the kindest person Ty knew, bar none, but she wasn't exactly a maestro in social circles herself.

They all stared at her.

She swallowed.

“A poke in the eye?” Colt guessed.

Monica laughed.

Emily huffed. “A poke in the eye? Really?”

Colt grinned, though there had seemed to be a bit of unusual tension between him and Casie today. “So . . .” he said. “Philip, tell us about your vacation.”

Sophie's father wiped his mouth with a cloth napkin as Ty returned to his seat, Bliss at his shoulder.

“Well, the weather's better than it is here. I'll say that.”

“It was unseasonably warm in Paris,” Monica said.

He ignored her. “And the water's as blue as . . .” He shook his head. “A robin's egg.”

“I do have a weakness for Palm Passage, but the shopping can't compare to . . .” Monica began. And the verbal swordplay began.

The remainder of the meal was spent with Casie and Colt volleying carefully between the two as Sophie's expression got tighter and tighter.

By the time Philip Jaegar rose to his feet, there was enough tension in the room to wind a clock. “Well, I'd better be getting back to town.”

“I packed up some leftovers and divinity for you.” Emily lifted a brown paper bag by the handles.

“That's very sweet of you,” he said, but he didn't even bother to employ his killer smile. Instead, he glanced back at his ex-wife. “It's supposed to snow tonight. You should probably be going, too. If you run into the ditch, you're not going to want to walk far in those boots you spend so much money on.”

She gave him a smile. It could have been award-winning, except for the twitch of disdain at the corners. “How nice of you to worry about me, Philip, but I'm staying here tonight.”

“At the Lazy?” He shifted his gaze between Max and the front door, where Lincoln had disappeared some minutes earlier. “I thought there were only two guest rooms available.”

Monica canted her head, smile warming a little at the sight of his obvious irritation. “Casie was gracious enough to allow me to bunk down here,” she said.

“In the house?” Philip looked as if the idea was beyond ludicrous.

She arched a brow at him. “You're surprised?”

He chuckled. The sound was a little gritty. “Emily's cooking must be even more enticing than I realized if you're staying here. I seem to remember a night at the Waldorf when you complained because the towels weren't lined up to your satisfaction.”

Monica's smile amped up a little. “And I remember you're a—”

“Look at the time!” Casie said.

They all glanced at
her
instead.

She laughed. It sounded a little maniacal. “I didn't realize it was so late. I mean, I suppose things would just be gearing up in . . . wherever the Waldorf is . . . but I have to . . .” She ran out of words.

“. . . Get to bed,” Colt finished for her. Their gazes met for a second. “And I should get Ty home.” He rose to his feet. “Mom doesn't roost well until her brood's in the coop.”

Ty tried to control his blush. It was embarrassing to be treated like a baby. Embarrassing and so damned wonderful he felt his throat close up. But he wouldn't let himself be overrun by emotions. Not tonight. He glanced at Sophie. Her lost-girl eyes looked tortured. He steeled himself. No, he wasn't nobody's hero, but he'd do this thing that needed doing.

“I'll take Bliss,” Casie said, seeming relieved to have something to do with her hands.

“Well . . .” Jaegar sounded a little embarrassed himself. But not near as much as he should. “I guess I'll get going, too.”

“I'm so glad I don't have to traverse those roads,” Monica said and gave a delicate shiver. “Rooming with Sophia has been absolutely wonderful. I can't thank you enough for allowing me to stay, Casie. We've been giggling like schoolgirls at summer camp. Or maybe
winter
camp.”

God help them all, Ty thought, and spoke into the void. “I'll carry your leftovers, Mr. Jaegar.”

“Oh, okay.” They turned toward the door.

It only took Jaeger a moment to settle into his coat. Ty wasn't exactly current on men's fashion, but he was pretty sure that single garment cost more than Angel's annual feed bill.

Outside, it was still and quiet, cold with the kind of sharp ache that settled into your bones like a cancer.

Jaegar turned at the steps. “I can get that, Tyler,” he said and reached for the leftovers, but Ty pulled the bag back a little.

“I got it,” he said and pushed himself down the stairs toward the man's car.

His Cadillac was as red as a candy apple. The interior light blinked on as he pulled open the driver's door.

“She thinks real good of you,” Ty said, bolting into the silence.

Jaegar stopped, half in, half out of his vehicle.

Ty gritted his teeth. “Sophie,” he explained and braced himself. “She missed you.”

Jaegar tilted his head a little, softening. “That's nice of you to say, Tyler. I know she thinks highly of you, too.”

He wanted to nod, wanted to believe it was true, but that wasn't the point. “Don't you mess that up.”

Jaegar straightened but remained in the open doorway. “What do you mean by that?”

Every cowardly molecule in Ty wanted to back away. He didn't know nothing about family. It would have been better if he'd been raised by a pack of wolves, but he'd started down this path and he'd finish the course.

“It's just . . .” He tried to swallow his fear. But it was deep in his bloodstream, making his limbs stiff, his throat tight. “It ain't fair for you and Mrs. . . . Day-Bellaire . . . to put her in the middle like that.”

Jaegar slammed his car door. He was a good three inches taller than Ty. Three inches taller, fifty pounds heavier, and infinitely wiser. Ty swallowed his bile. “Like what?” the man asked.

“Like she was a horse to be traded or something,” Ty said and tightened his fist around the paper handles of the bag. “She's got feelings. And she's got heart.” He felt his eyes burn with tears. Good God, if he started bawling he'd never be able to show his face at the Lazy again. He shook his head. “She's got more heart than any one of them mustangs she worries about.”

“I think I know my daughter better than you do.”

“Then quit treating her like crap!” Ty snapped.

“Who do you think—” Jaegar began, but just then Colt stepped into the cold. His frosty breath bubbled into the night air. In a matter of seconds he was standing beside them, a jagged triangle of men so different they barely shared a species.

The silence was all but painful. Colt raised his brows.

“Young Tyler here was taking me to task,” Jaegar said. His tone was stiff.

Ty clenched his free hand into a fist. He knew he had no right to speak to Sophie's dad like that, especially not after he'd loaned him money for Angel's vet bills. But he wasn't going to apologize. Not this time. No matter what Dickenson—

“Well, Sophie needs
someone
to stand up for her,” Colt said.

Somewhere in the distant pastures a coyote sang. A quartet answered. Ty released the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

Jaegar pulled his back a little straighter. “You think
I
don't stand up for her?” he asked. “Who took care of her when that . . .” He stabbed a finger toward the house, then paused, not loosing the vitriol that trembled on his lips. “Her mother abandoned her.”

A hundred arguments rushed through Ty's mind, but he kept himself from speaking and shifted his gaze back to Colt. Sometimes the man was dumber than dirt, but he knew how to keep folks from punching a fellow in the face, and that might be a skill worth learning. They exchanged a glance.

“She's here now,” Colt said.

Jaegar raised his brows in question.

“Your ex-wife. She's here now, trying to make things right.”

Jaegar laughed. The sound was harsh in the brittle cold. “She's just soothing her conscience before she jets off to Venice or somewhere.”

“Sophie's just a girl, Philip,” Colt said. His voice was soft. “She shouldn't have to choose between the two of you.”

“I'm not making her—” Jaegar paused, drew a deep breath, and turned his eyes toward the sweeping hills that framed the Lazy. His face looked hard and angular in the diffused light. Snow began to fall softly. “Okay.” He nodded once. “I suppose you're right. It
is
Christmas.”

“That's all we're saying,” Colt said and shifted his gaze back to Ty. “Well, we'd best get home before Mom worries herself sick.”

Ty nodded and handed over the leftovers.

In a minute the two of them were alone in Colt's pickup truck.

He turned the key, then glanced across the chilly distance between them, brows raised in question. “Could be there's not a faster way to get yourself a beating than to tell a man how to raise his own kids.”

Apologies and explanations crowded to the fore, but Ty had never been any good at either. “Sometimes a donkey don't know he's an ass till somebody tells him his ears is too long,” he said.

Colt stared at him a second, then threw back his head and laughed.