The Cowboy (34 page)

“I spy a hawk,” Eli said, pointing to the sky.

“I spy a cow,” Hannah said pointing into the brush.

“Cows don’t count, do they, Trace?” Eli asked.

“I did say be on the lookout for
wild
animals. But that cow looks pretty wild to me,” Trace said, winking at Hannah.

Hannah giggled.

Eli rolled his eyes. “Sheesh. Cows.”

“Bird!” Hannah exclaimed, as her pony flushed a grouse.

“Hey! That’s cheating,” Eli complained. “You have to spy ’em before you scare ’em out of hiding. Does that count, Trace?”

“Fraid so, Eli.”

“Deer!” Eli said, as he surprised a herd of white-tailed deer. He counted aloud as each one bounded over the wire fence. “Wow! Seven! I’m gonna win for sure! What’ll I get if I have the most, Trace?”

“My sincere admiration,” Trace replied with a grin.

“Awww, shhh—”

“Eli,” Callie warned.

“Sheesh,” Eli said, changing the expletive in mid-word.

Callie realized where they were going when they were halfway there. It was a pond she’d shown to Trace on the night they’d been searching for her parents. It was the place she’d gone to dream about might-have-beens, while she was waiting for Eli to grow inside her womb.

Cattails lined the far edge of the pond, and a nearby live oak provided shade so thorough that the land beneath it was nearly bare of undergrowth. The surface of the pond was perfectly smooth, except for the ripple caused by two blue-winged teals paddling toward the safety of the concealing cattails.

Callie pulled her horse alongside Trace’s and murmured, “This was my special place. Why did you bring us here?”

“Now it’s going to be our special place, too,” he answered. “Mine and my son’s.”

Callie turned her face away to hide the stinging tears
that threatened and let her horse fall behind the other three riders. Before Trace had learned the truth about Eli, he’d suggested that she go with him to Australia. That offer had apparently been withdrawn. Now his son was going to be all the company he wanted or needed on the journey.

Not that Callie would, or could go with him. Her family still needed her. Even though Trace had signed a prenuptial agreement promising to pay the taxes on Three Oaks when they came due, there was no telling what other disasters might befall them. Without her there to keep the wolf from the door, Blackjack would surely find a way to take what he’d always coveted.

But how could she allow Trace to take Eli away? Her heart would break in two. She was torn between love and duty, and couldn’t choose between them. So she simply avoided making any choice at all.

Callie’s heart hurt. She put a fist against what was almost a physical pain in her chest, knowing it was despair that caused the ache inside her. Could she have made a different choice eleven years ago? Should she have told Trace right away he was going to be a father? Should she have reached out for love, married the son of her father’s nemesis, and hoped for the best where her family was concerned?

Maybe she should have done that. Her sister Bay certainly hadn’t flinched at leaving her family behind to pursue her own dreams. Bay had left home and never looked back. Even now, she was at Texas A&M finishing her degree.

But Callie wasn’t Bay. She was the eldest. She’d
always put her family’s needs first. Even when it had meant sacrificing her own.

It was what her mother had taught her to do. It was what her mother had done herself. Callie had even done her best to be happy with a man she wasn’t “in love” with, just as her mother had done. Callie realized she’d made the same choices as her mother. The same mistakes.

You can make a different choice, Callie.

What a tempting thought. How easy it would be to let herself fall in love with Trace all over again. How lovely to think of building a whole new life in an exotic, faraway place. She’d never had the chance to travel. She’d never had the chance to spread her wings and fly. She wanted more children, and she knew Trace did, too. From the way he’d so easily won over her children—Hannah followed him around like a puppy, and Eli seemed to crave his attention and approval—she knew he would make a wonderful father.

Callie couldn’t understand the rebellious inclinations that kept surfacing lately. Couldn’t understand why a devotion to family that had never seemed onerous suddenly made her feel like a fly struggling in a spider’s web, certain that unless she escaped soon, she’d be devoured.

The sound of Trace’s voice yanked her from her reverie. “Who wants to swim before lunch?”

“I don’t have a swimsuit!” Eli lamented.

Trace grinned. “Ever hear of skinny dipping?”

“No skinny dipping!” Callie announced, as a provocative image of Trace swimming naked flashed through her mind.

Trace shot her a smug grin. “Just kidding. I had your
mother pack swimsuits, too.” He threw Eli his swimsuit and said, “You can go behind the tree to change.”

Eli was off his horse in an instant and headed for the live oak.

“Loosen the cinch on Hickory’s saddle first, son,” Trace said, calling Eli back. “And tie the reins up so he doesn’t stumble on them while he’s grazing.”

“Sure, Trace,” Eli said, grabbing the reins and tugging the horse along as he headed behind the tree.

“I can’t swim,” Hannah wailed.

“I’ll help you,” Trace offered.

“I can help her,” Callie said in a cool voice.

“I want Trace to help me,” Hannah said. “Will you, Trace?”

“Sure, Hannah. Whatever you want.”

“You’ll spoil her rotten,” Callie said under her breath.

Trace shrugged. “Little girls were made to be spoiled.”

“Maybe in the Blackthorne household. At Three Oaks everyone has to pull his own weight.”

“Hannah’s too young to be pulling any weight at all,” Trace snapped back. “And I won’t see her put in traces like you were, before she’s had a chance to kick up her heels.”

Callie found herself staring at Trace’s back as he stalked away from her. The metaphor was horrifying when she thought about it. Was that how Trace saw her life? Like she was a plowhorse harnessed with a load too heavy to bear?

Hannah got both legs on one side of the saddle, then grabbed hold of a few strips of leather streaming from a silver concha on the saddle, and let her hands slide down
until her feet touched the ground. “Where’s my swimsuit?” she asked Trace.

He handed it to her and said, “Your mom can help you get into it.”

This time, Callie didn’t miss her cue. “Where’s my suit?” she asked. “I might as well change at the same time as Hannah.”

Trace eyed her over his shoulder, then gestured with his chin. “Check my saddlebags.”

“And your suit?” Callie inquired.

He pulled his hand out from behind his back, and she saw a pair of cutoff jeans. “Right here. I’ll be with Eli.”

Callie had to admit the cool water was refreshing. And Hannah did, finally, take two splashing strokes from Trace’s arms to her own. Then she watched as Trace and Eli roughhoused in the water. She tried to remember a time when Nolan had done such a thing. She tried to excuse the fact it had never happened with the thought that Eli had been so young when Nolan got sick.

Eli was eight. He could swim even then. Nolan could have done this anytime.

But he never had. Callie wondered which of the two of them had been remiss. Had Nolan been too busy working to suggest this sort of fun? Or was she the one responsible for putting work first and foremost?
Responsibility before pleasure. Duty before personal happiness.

There was something wrong with a life that didn’t include laughter. Something sorrowful about a life that didn’t include fun.

Callie felt Hannah being swept from her arms an instant before she felt Eli’s palms on her shoulders, forcing her underwater. She barely had time to gasp a breath of
air before she was submerged. When she came up, her hair streaming around her face and water dripping off her nose and eyelashes, Eli and Hannah were laughing hysterically.

“We got you, Mom!” Eli said, chortling.

Hannah clapped her hands and parroted, “We got you, Mom!”

Callie joined their laughter, as she shoved her sopping hair out of her face. “I’m hungry. Who else would like to eat?”

She was nearly trampled by Eli’s race to the edge of the pond. She followed Trace as he stepped out of the water and set Hannah down on solid ground.

“Change first,” Callie shouted at Eli.

“Aw, Mom!” Eli shouted back.

“Change first,” Trace agreed.

“Sheesh!” Eli muttered from behind the tree. “Grown-ups!”

“Sheesh!” Hannah said, hands on her hips as she turned to stare up at them. “Grown-ups!”

Callie and Trace exchanged a look and broke into guffaws of laughter. A moment later, Callie’s expression sobered.

This was what had been missing from her life. Laughter. Joy. Delight. She wanted back all those years with Nolan. She wished she’d tried harder to make him happy. To bring him joy. To give her children laughter.

Trace had offered her a glimpse of what she’d lost when she’d turned her back on him. What she saw was so wonderful, it left her aching. And wishing. And even, God help her, hoping. What if Trace could forgive her? What if
they could be a family? What if they could live happily ever after?

Trace spread a blanket for them to sit on, while Callie sorted through the picnic fare her mother had packed.

“Hard-boiled eggs, carrot sticks, pickles,” she announced as she unpacked each item.

“I want a pickle,” Eli said, reaching out a hand.

As Trace handed him a pickle, Hannah said, “I want a pickle, too.”

“You don’t like pickles,” Callie informed her.

“I might,” Hannah said, keeping her hand outstretched.

Callie shrugged and said to Trace. “Give it to her.”

Hannah took one lick and scrunched up her face. “Ick. Here, Mom,” she said, holding it out to Callie. “You eat it.”

“No thanks,” Callie said quickly. “See if Trace wants it.”

“I think we should give it to your mother,” Trace said, taking it from Hannah and holding it out to Callie. “As I recall, she likes to suck off all the pickle juice before she eats it.”

Callie couldn’t look at the pickle. Or at Trace, for that matter.

“Hey, Mom, why’s your face so red?” Eli asked.

Callie shot one mortified look at Trace, grabbed the pickle and took a large bite, chewing furiously and nearly choking when she swallowed too fast.

“That’s not how I remember you eating a pickle,” Trace said in a husky voice.

Callie met his eyes for an instant and saw the passion lurking there, just as it had when she’d teased him by
sucking salaciously on a pickle in the college cafeteria a lifetime ago. Unfortunately, he’d had a test right after lunch and couldn’t skip class. When they’d finally gotten together in her room, the sex had been frenzied and wild.

“Maybe we should have our sandwiches now,” Callie said quickly, dropping the pickle on a paper plate and reaching into the saddlebag that contained the rest of the food.

“This tastes great,” Eli said as he wolfed his down.

“Slow down, or you’ll get a stomachache,” Callie warned.

She should have realized Eli would look to Trace.

“Your mother’s right,” Trace said. “Chew before you swallow.”

Eli made a disgruntled noise through a mouthful of sandwich but waited before taking another bite. Where was the hatred for all things Blackthorne? Callie wondered. The answer was simple: Blotted out by the need for a man’s approval … and a father’s love.

Callie watched the expression in Trace’s eyes as he drank in the sight of his son. Wistful. Proud. Sad. Callie wished there were some way to make up for the time with Eli that Trace had lost. But there wasn’t. As much as she knew Eli would benefit from having a father’s attention and love, she couldn’t bear to give up her son. But she was afraid to leave her family prey to the machinations of Jackson Blackthorne.

Callie glanced at Trace and caught him looking back at her, the remnants of desire lingering in his eyes, and felt her body quicken. Maybe she wouldn’t be going with Trace. But he was here now and he wanted her. She
turned to Eli and said, “After lunch, you and Hannah need to lie down and take a quick nap.”

“What are you and Trace going to do?” Eli asked.

Callie couldn’t stop the flush that stained her cheeks. “Trace and I have things to … discuss.” She looked up at Trace, the invitation clear in her eyes.

“Aw, Mom,” Eli complained.

“Aw, Mom,” Hannah echoed.

She knew Trace understood her intentions perfectly when he said, “Eli, Hannah, your mother’s right.”

Callie could feel Trace’s carnal gaze on her the whole time she told a bedtime story to Hannah to help her fall asleep on the blanket. Despite his protestations that he wasn’t sleepy, Eli’s eyes closed even before Hannah’s. When they were both asleep, Callie lifted her gaze to meet Trace’s.

He stood and held out his hand. “Come with me.”

Her legs felt like jelly when she stood. She was grateful for Trace’s strong, supporting hand. “We can’t go far,” she said, glancing back at the two sleeping children.

“We won’t,” he promised.

In fact, he didn’t go any farther than the opposite side of the massive live oak, which completely hid them from the children’s view. He backed her up against the tree, settling himself in the cradle of her thighs with a satisfied sigh.

“I’ve missed this,” he murmured against her hair.

Callie settled her hands on his hips as she leaned her head back for the kisses he was raining on her throat. “Me, too.”

There was no way their lovemaking could be culminated, not with the children sleeping so close. But it was
sweet to be held, lovely to be kissed. She hadn’t expected Trace to talk. She was stunned by what he said.

“I love you, Callie. I’ve never stopped loving you. I shouldn’t have run away when trouble came. I should have stayed to see things out. I should have been there with you when our son was born.”

Callie couldn’t breathe. She shoved Trace away and gasped for air, staring at him, wide-eyed with disbelief. She should have felt euphoric. The man she had never stopped loving, had never stopped loving her. What she felt was sick to her stomach. “Oh, Trace.”