The Cowboy's Forever Family (6 page)

Laney felt the heat rising to her cheeks as her breath returned to her lungs. Her heart, which had only moments before been a still, solid mass in her throat now jolted back to life and started beating with all the vengeance of a jackhammer.

Slade disappeared behind the high row of bullpens. Laney pulled her hands from the fence and picked at the sharp splinters, welcoming the pain to distract her. Better than thinking about what she was going to do to Slade when she saw him.

“Laney.” Slade's rich, deep voice came from over her left shoulder and she stiffened but did not turn. The teenage girls' chattering increased exponentially, sounding as if they'd gone from a few sparrows to an entire flock of geese. Laney watched Slade from the corner of her eye and was surprised when he didn't so much as acknowledge his young fans.

Instead, he moved in right next to Laney, leaning a forearm against the fence and bracing a foot on the lower rail. The long sleeves of his dirty white Western shirt probably prevented him from getting the splinters Laney had received, but it would have served him right if he'd picked up one or two, or a whole log's worth of them.

Feeling as if she were about to boil over, she refused to look at him until he nudged her shoulder with his.

“So, what did you think?”

What did she think? What did she
think
?

She whirled on him and let him feel the full force of her fury. Anger and grief and a surprisingly heavy dose of anxiety coursed through her as she glared daggers at him, clenching her fists as tension rolled through her.

This wasn't about thinking. It was about feeling. And right now she was feeling—well, she didn't even know. Just that he'd opened something in her that she desperately wanted to remain closed.

Unable to contain herself any longer, she reached for his chest and took handfuls of his shirt in her fists. At first she had the notion of shaking some sense into him, but the man was built like a tree. She could have pushed all day and he wouldn't have budged.

Not unless he wanted to.

He wrapped his large hands over hers, completely encompassing them, but instead of forcefully breaking her hold on his shirt, he lightly brushed the rough pads of his thumbs across the backs of her hands.

There was pride striking back from the depths of his blue eyes, but there was confusion, too, and other emotions Laney couldn't put a name to, which made her feel even more vulnerable than she already was.

“How could you?” she choked out. Slade's gentle response had taken the wind from her sails and her voice sounded more like a sob than a demand. “How could you go back to riding bulls after what happened to Brody? Don't you have any sense at all? Any kindness in your heart, knowing that I'd be here—that I'd see? Did you even think about what I might be feeling?”

His features hardened and his brow lowered.

She knew what she was about to say wasn't a fair question, but she couldn't seem to stop herself. Her tongue was lashing out with all the fury of a horse whip, her emotions a runaway train with no brakes to stop her from falling over the edge of the ravine.

“Never mind me—don't you care about Brody at all?”

Chapter Five

L
aney's words were a direct hit to Slade's gut. When he had invited her to meet him at the stable, he supposed he had had some backward, mixed up notion that she'd appreciate what he was trying to do. Serendipity's annual rodeo was coming up and he was planning to ride—to honor Brody by competing in the sport that had meant so much to him.

And if he was being completely honest, he might have been trying to show off to her. Just a little bit.

Truthfully, it hadn't even occurred to him how the situation might appear to her. Of course she was furious with him. She probably didn't understand what bull riding was all about. She wouldn't know it had been nothing more dangerous than a practice run and that he'd been riding far below his skill level.

All she'd seen was a man on a bull.

No wonder she was freaking out.

“Laney,” he groaned from deep in his throat. He shifted his hands to her shoulders, brushing his palms down her arms to her elbows and then back up again. “Princess, I'm an idiot. I didn't even think how this would look to you.”

She sniffed and made quick work of brushing her cheek with the back of her hand, but he'd seen the tears, and he could feel the tension rippling across her shoulders. He'd really messed up this time. Brody would have been appalled with him not only for inadvertently hurting Laney but for the ever-present possibility of putting the child at risk.

He'd let down his best friend.
Again.

He was
so
not good at processing emotional stuff, and here he was with the self-charged duty of protecting a pregnant woman with all kinds of wacky hormones raging through her. How much more electric and supercharged could this situation be?

Over Laney's shoulder, Slade saw motion and realized the group of silly teenage girls who'd been watching him were still around, gawking at the two of them and gossiping amongst themselves.

Not cool. One sharp look and a jerk of his head sent the young ladies scurrying for another place to prattle. Probably wouldn't stop the gossip, but he didn't give a fig about that. Folks could say what they wanted. No never mind to him, and hopefully not to Laney, either. She'd been through too much to succumb to wagging tongues.

With the girls gone, he returned his attention to Laney. She couldn't even look him in the eye. She sniffled again, and before he knew what was happening, she wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her face in his chest. She gripped him as if she were afraid if she let go he would disappear, and soon her whole body was quivering. He realized she was sobbing, quietly muffled by the fabric of his shirt.

Whoa. He totally hadn't expected that reaction.

He stood frozen for probably longer than he should have before he wrapped his arms around her and brushed his palm lightly over her back. How was he supposed to deal with a crying female? He felt gangly and awkward, especially with the baby bump between them.

What had happened to the smooth-talking man who knew just how to handle the ladies, what to say to keep them happy? Slade wanted to cheer Laney up, but that part of his character had decided to desert him at the worst possible moment.

“It's going to be all right, princess,” he murmured close to her ear.

“It's never going to be all right.” She leaned back enough to meet his gaze, though she didn't immediately remove herself from his arms. Her eyes were glassy, but he was relieved to see the spark was back. “And don't call me princess.”

Slade took that to mean their moment—or whatever it was—was over. “No offense intended.”

She stared up at him for a beat, taking his measure, and then shrugged out of his arms. He wished she'd say something, even if it was to yell at him for his stupidity in bringing her out here, but she didn't say a word. The air thickened between them, ripe with tension.

She was clearly waiting for something.

Like what? For him to beg her forgiveness? Maybe grovel a little bit?

He knew he was at fault, but begging wasn't going to happen. He was too proud to grovel. Still, he supposed an apology of some sort was in order. She deserved that much, at least. Slade knew what Brody would have done at this moment. He would have shoved Slade forward and reminded him what a lug he could be. And he would have made him apologize.

Slade swept his hat off his head and cleared his throat.

“Um—sorry.” He didn't even sound like himself. His voice had come out high and squeaky, and he cringed.

Words. Not his forte.

Her gaze widened. “Sorry? That's it? That's all I'm going to get? You scare ten years off my life and that's all you're going to give me? Sorry?”

“What else do you want from me?” The muscles in his shoulders tightened and he fought the temptation to turn and walk away.

Laney had the unique ability to set him on edge. She had when he'd first known her—when she'd first started taking up all of Brody's time and attention—and she did now. The woman couldn't even accept an apology when it was earnestly offered.

“For starters, why don't you try and explain to me what you were doing up on that bull in the first place.”

He jammed his hat back on his head and pulled it low over his furrowed brow to shade his eyes both from the glare of the sun and from the glare of the woman beside him.

“I'm a bull rider.” He would have thought that part would have been obvious. What did she expect of him?

She frowned. “All guts and glory and absolutely no sense whatsoever. Tell me something I don't know.”

Well, at least she thought he had guts.

“Serendipity's annual town rodeo is coming up in a month and a half. I have every intention of winning the purse.” He paused. “For you and for Brody's kid.”

“Don't be ridiculous. I don't need your money, and I certainly don't want to be responsible, even indirectly, for you putting yourself at the risk of breaking something just for a few dollars.”

“I'm not going to break anything,” he assured her, but then he took a mental step backward. His confidence had been shaken after Brody's death. Slade and Brody had both attacked bull riding with the typical arrogance and self-assurance of young men years before. No one could touch them and nothing could hurt them.

But something had. A bull called Night Terror. Brody had been at least as skilled in the arena as Slade was, and it hadn't helped him.

Accidents happened. People died. Good people. The best.

Slade couldn't assure Laney of anything. Not really.

But neither could he
not
follow through with his plan, though he wasn't sure he'd be able to explain his reasoning to Laney. In fact, he was pretty certain he couldn't. It was more a gut feeling of somehow setting things to right rather than anything he could express in words. Only that it was something he needed to do.

“It's to honor Brody's memory.”

“I think he'd rather you honor him by staying al—uh—in one piece.”

Slade withheld a grimace. He knew he was dredging up all kinds of horrible memories. This might not be the best time to mention that not only was he going to ride in the rodeo, but he hoped beyond hope he would pull Night Terror. He had something to prove.

She cocked a brow and stared at him until he was certain she was reading every thought in his head. He broke his gaze away from her. There was nothing more unnerving than the thought of a woman in his head, especially Laney. He still wasn't completely convinced she hadn't messed with Brody's heart and mind, confused him and wanted him to change his entire life for her.

No, thank you. That was
not
for him. He'd stay in the shallow end of the relationship pool, even if it felt a little less than satisfying.

And what she didn't know about the rodeo wouldn't hurt her, right?

Because despite all the tussles they had with each other, especially recently, Laney did have one redeeming quality Slade couldn't quite overlook.

She had loved Brody. Despite everything, she'd loved Brody.

And she carried a great deal of strength in her heart. He hadn't known that back then, when he may not have been the best influence on Brody, but he knew it now. Not many women would pack up and move their whole life to a strange town to live with in-laws she barely knew. Wouldn't it have been easier for her to remain with her sister, where Slade had been given to understand she'd been living before she arrived at the Becketts'?

She wasn't taking the easy way out. She wasn't thinking only of herself. She was thinking of her baby—of Brody's baby. Slade had to respect her for that, at least. Nothing she'd gone through in recent months could have been comfortable for her.

He gave her credit, but he still didn't trust her. Once upon a time she'd gotten into Brody's head and turned him all around, trying to change him, to make him into something he was not. Who was to say she wouldn't try the same thing with him? It was a fine line to walk, needing her to trust him and allow him to be part of Baby Beckett's life without giving too much of himself away in the process.

“Is there someplace we can go that's a little more conducive to conversation than standing outside a stable?” She picked at her hand, which was swollen and red from the tiny pieces of wood she must have picked up on the corral fence.

Slade inwardly cringed at the reminder that he'd been the one to bring her here. He'd been the one to thoughtlessly tear open wounds which had barely begun to heal.

“We could grab a coffee at Cup O' Jo's Café,” he suggested. “My treat.”

It seemed like the least he could do, given the events of the day.

Her gaze met his and she shook her head. “I don't think—”

“I'll even spring for dessert.” He couldn't let her finish her statement. Not if it meant she was going to say no to him. He shouldn't be surprised that she wouldn't want to be seen with him in public. She'd probably picked up on those silly teenagers and their giggling. Not good. He didn't know why it was suddenly so important that she accept his offer. Maybe it was just a jab to his ego. He wasn't used to being turned down for a date.

Not a date.

Whatever was the opposite of a date. That's what this was. Frankly, he'd be surprised if the two of them could keep from bickering for the length of time it took them to consume a cup of coffee. They seemed to have developed a process, their way of working things out between each other, and it wasn't anything he'd want to air in public, picking at each other like a couple of bantam hens. He reminded himself to be on his best behavior. He didn't want Laney's dignity, not to mention his own, to take a hit.

Slow. Slightly unsteady. Often uncomfortable. Sometimes painful. That's how it seemed to be between them.

Laney appeared to be reconsidering, or at least she hadn't barked out an immediate rejection. “Well, if you're throwing in chocolate.”

He grinned, feeling as if he'd just won, if not the purse, then at least a ride.

“But only because Baby Beckett has a craving.”

She was distancing herself from him again, but he'd take what he could get. “Glad to be of service.”

Cup O' Jo's was only a block and a half away from the stable. Laney insisted they walk. She had kept herself in very good shape for a seriously pregnant woman. As he recalled, she'd always been slim, with just the right amount of curves. Her baby bump simply added one more. But even if she was in the best shape of her life, Slade wasn't entirely convinced she ought to be straining herself, as far along as she was.

He focused on keeping his own stride short and his pace slow. Their walk was made in an uneasy silence. He didn't want to bring up anything that might send them down the path of a serious conversation, even about the ranching business—not when he knew they'd be interrupted the moment they walked into the café. He didn't want to get into it and then have to drop it—whatever
it
was.

He'd never been good at making small talk. Thankfully, Laney didn't seem to mind the silence, though it hung over Slade like a rain cloud. With his concentrating on keeping their walk to a painfully slow pace, it felt like forever before they reached the café, though it had probably been only a few minutes.

“I'm going to go use the facilities to wash up,” he said as they entered Cup O' Jo's. “I smell like cattle.”

“Yes. Yes you do,” Laney said with a smile, though it didn't quite reach her eyes.

She didn't have to agree with him.

“Shoo, cowboy.” Jo Spencer, the vivacious old redhead who owned the café, bobbed up to them and immediately took over the conversation. “Go clean yourself up and I'll seat this pretty lady. Laney, isn't it?”

Laney's gaze widened and Slade interpreted the surprised glance she flashed him as a moment of panic.

Once again he hadn't thought all the way through his actions. He hadn't considered the café scenario any more than he'd worked the bull-riding situation to its logical end. Laney was Brody's widow, and pregnant, to boot. Even though Slade knew his neighbors were the best kind of folks, they were bound to talk about her. If Laney wasn't used to small-town living, then how would she feel when a complete stranger knew her name?

He needed to reassure her that all was well, and so he threw what he hoped looked like a friendly arm over her shoulder and drew her toward him so he could speak to her without being overheard. He was happy for the blaring fifties music and the hum of the crowd that helped drown out his words.

“Don't worry, princess. Jo may come off as a little domineering, invading your personal space and all, but she's harmless enough. She makes it her business to know everything about everyone. Super nice, though. You won't find a better person in the whole town.”

She clearly hadn't anticipated his move and braced her hand on his chest to catch her balance, and then stood on tiptoe so she could whisper back to him.