Baby's First Homecoming (2 page)

She trembled so violently, she nearly dropped Jamie. He made it worse by wriggling.

“Hey.” Ethan came around the corner. “Is something wrong?”

“What’s he doing here?” she hissed.

“Clay? He came to see you.”

“Why?”

“He’s a friend.”

“No, he isn’t. His dad cheated us. You hate him. We all do.”

“Not anymore.”

“Since when?” she squeaked.

“Since we captured the wild mustang last fall. It’s a long story, I’ll tell you after the party.” Ethan hooked her by the elbow and gave a tug.

She refused to budge.

“Come on. You haven’t seen Clay since before Mom died.”

Not true.

Ethan all but dragged her and Jamie into the kitchen where she stumbled into her chair, praying for invisibility. Her family and Clay were friends again? How could that be? In every scenario she’d devised, he’d been a thousand miles away.

He strode farther into the kitchen.

Please, please, don’t come over here,
she silently prayed.

Of course, he did, and she steeled herself.

“Hi, Sierra.” His smile was friendly, his voice deep and honeyed like she remembered.

She looked up at him—how could she not?—and stared into the face of her baby’s father. Her heart, open with love for her son and the recent reconciliation with her family, promptly closed tight.

* * *

S
HE
HAD
A
BABY
.

Clay’s stomach clenched as if someone had sucker-punched him with the business end of a baseball bat.

From the moment he’d learned Sierra was returning to Mustang Valley, he’d imagined them picking up where they’d left off. She’d generously overlook his incredible lack of judgment and brief, disastrous marriage, and they’d fall into each other’s arms.

Only her arms were full of a bouncing baby boy. There went the happy-you’re-home kiss he’d been counting on.

Instead, he squeezed her upper arm. “Good to see you again.”

She muttered something about how nice it was to see him, too.

The boy’s head tipped back, and his inquisitive gaze fixed on Clay’s face. There was something about his eyes that struck a familiar chord, though Clay couldn’t quite identify why.

Maybe he was wrong, and the kid wasn’t hers. She could be a nanny or something.

“Who’s this?” he asked.

“My, um, my…” She glanced down at the baby, held him closer. “My son.”

Clay swallowed. So much for his nanny theory.

Which meant she’d been with a man. A man besides him. Jealousy sliced through him. Not that he had any claim on her. He’d forfeited it the second he’d stupidly left Sierra in order to reunite with Jessica, his then ex-fiancée and later wife.

In hindsight, hurting Sierra had been inevitable.

If Gavin and Ethan knew what he’d done to their little sister, he’d lose a lot more than their friendship. An arm. The use of his legs. And that was just for starters.

“What’s his name?” Clay asked.

The baby babbled as if answering. He really was an appealing tyke. Clay felt an unfamiliar, but not unpleasant, tug inside his chest. He’d always liked kids despite having little experience with them and would be a father today if things had gone differently.

His loss still pained him.

Probably the reason he felt drawn to Sierra’s boy.

She said nothing, acting as though she hadn’t heard him. Loading a spoon with some vile-looking mush out of a jar, she tried to feed it to the baby. Wisely, the kid shook his head and grimaced. The stuff did look awful.

“No name, buddy?”

“It’s Jamie,” Isa piped up. She and Cassie had been standing behind Sierra and trying to distract the baby with funny faces. “Isn’t that a cool name?”

“Yeah,” Clay agreed, receiving yet another invisible punch to the stomach. “Cool.”

His grandfather’s name had been Jamie, short for Jamieson. Did Sierra know?

Yes, he’d told her all about his summers spent in Montana and about returning for his grandfather’s funeral.

Coincidence?

It had to be.

“Nice to meet you, Jamie,” Clay said and leaned down, extending his index finger.

The baby broke into a wide, rather comical grin and grabbed Clay’s finger, holding it as he were shaking hands.

“He likes you,” Cassie blurted.

“The feeling’s mutual.” The tug inside Clay’s chest grew stronger, and he grinned back at the baby. Turning his head, he discovered Sierra’s face mere inches from him. “Cute baby.”

She stared back at him, her brown eyes wide with terror.

His grin dissolved, and he involuntarily straightened. The moment he did, she practically leapt out of her chair.

“I’d better clean this up.” Grabbing the jar of baby food and empty bottle with her free hand, she cut past Isa and made a hasty beeline for the sink, Jamie riding on her hip.

What exactly had happened?

He would have understood anger. He’d treated her badly after all. But fear? No. Something else was definitely amiss.

Clay’s glance cut to Sage and Caitlin still sitting at the table. Their expressions reflected a confusion similar to the one he was experiencing.

The celebration continued with cake and punch. Wayne Powell, Sierra’s father, acted as host. The group of men, which included a few family friends and two of the Powells’ longtime ranch hands, wandered to the living room. The women, girls and Wayne remained in the kitchen, hovering around Sierra and Jamie.

Clay stayed, too, using a conversation with Wayne as his excuse. While the older man talked, Clay kept one ear tuned to the discussion going on between the women.

Sierra had set Jamie on the floor, and he was toddling about by her feet. Isa knelt in front of him, making a toy pony that looked as if it had been mauled gallop in the air.

“How old is he?” Caitlin asked Sierra.

Sierra hesitated, thinned her lips and twirled a strand of glossy brunette hair around her finger. “About a year.”

Clay knew that look and habit, having seen it a hundred times before. He’d spent almost as much time at Powell Ranch as he had his own family’s while growing up. Sierra was the pesky, always-in-the-way little sister. While she didn’t lie, exactly, she’d occasionally exaggerated, and the hair-twirling was a dead giveaway.

So, what was she exaggerating about this time?

“He’s walking well for a year,” Sage commented.

“Did he have his birthday already?” Cassie asked. “Maybe we can have a party for him.”

Sierra thinned her lips again and twirled her hair even faster. “He already had a party.”

Wayne said something to Sierra about her and Jamie staying in Ethan’s old room, that her room had been given over to the girls.

Clay listened and watched.

Jamie fascinated him. He picked at the laces of Isa’s sneakers with amazing determination and quickly had them untied. Clay admired that quality, having plenty of it himself. He’d inherited it from his father and grandfather Jamie.

Suddenly, the air was too thick to breathe and the room stifling hot.

Clay mentally calculated how long since he and Caitlin had last seen each other. Last slept together. Not quite two years. She had mentioned Jamie was about a year. But if he was older, say thirteen or fourteen months…

She’d lied, and not just about Jamie’s age.

“Sierra.” The volume of Clay’s voice surprised not only himself but everyone else in the room. He didn’t care. “We need to talk.”

The fear he’d seen in her face earlier returned tenfold, only now he knew the cause.

When she didn’t move, he started toward her. “Right this minute.”

“I—I—” She bent and picked up Jamie, who was not happy about being separated from Isa and started to wail. “I really should unload the car.”

“I’ll help you.”

“What’s going on?” Wayne moved to stand in front of Clay.

“This is between me and Sierra.”

Wayne might be pushing sixty but he presented a formidable obstacle when protecting his daughter. “Whatever you have to say to her, you can say to me.”

“Is that what you want?” Clay’s gaze locked with Sierra’s.

“No.” Her answer was hardly more than a whisper.

He went to the kitchen door, opened it and waited for her to join him.

“Sierra, you don’t have to go with him.” Wayne laid a protective hand on her arm.

She squared her shoulders. “It’s okay, Dad.”

She was brave, he’d give her that much.

“No, it’s not,” Wayne said. “I don’t like him ordering you around.” The glare Wayne shot Clay reminded him it hadn’t been
that
long since he’d reconciled with the Powells.

He didn’t care. He’d lost one child already, he wasn’t about to lose a second.

“You harm one hair on her head—”

Clay cut off Wayne before he could finish. “I won’t. I swear.”

Wayne reluctantly backed off, his narrowed gaze informing Clay they weren’t done by a long shot.

When Sierra reached the door, he held out his arms to Jamie. “Let me take him.”

“No!” She curled her body away from Clay. “He doesn’t like strangers.”

Jamie made a liar of his mother by extending his arms to Clay. She held fast but lost her grip when Jamie squirmed and wriggled sideways.

Clay caught the boy easily and balanced him on his hip as he’d seen Sierra do.

“Give him back,” she demanded.

“I will, after you and I talk.”

Sierra went outside with Clay. Whatever she felt, she did a good job of keeping it to herself.

Clay was ready to explode.

They’d no sooner stepped off the back patio when he stopped and reeled on her.

“How dare you keep my son from me!”

Chapter Two

“Let me explain,” Sierra insisted, jogging to match Clay’s long strides.

“You lied to me.”

He was right. She’d done everything in her power to hide Jamie’s existence from him. Worse, if there was any way she could go back in time to an hour ago, she’d drive past her family’s ranch and keep driving until she found someplace safe.

“Give Jamie to me, I can—”

“He’s fine.”

And he was fine, if his silly grin and happy babbling was any indication. Damn Clay.

She wanted to cry out, tackle Clay and wrestle Jamie away from him. It would be fruitless, of course. Clay was easily six-two and strong as a linebacker. What if he took off with Jamie? Made a mad dash to his truck? She might never get her son back.

“Please, Clay.” She strived to maintain a reasonable tone. “If we could just talk.”

“We’ll talk, all right. But not here. I don’t want your family interfering.”

Her family! Oh, God, what must they be thinking? They’d barely begun to accept she had a child and now this. Surely her father was putting two and two together. They might have made their peace with Clay, but he’d still been their hated enemy when he and Sierra had their affair.

Clay crossed the open area and headed toward the stables, her son still clutched in his arms.

Her son.

Yes, his son, too. That, however, was a technicality. Clay hadn’t wanted her when given the chance, had chosen to marry his off-again, on-again fiancée instead. As far as Sierra was concerned, he’d forfeited any and all say regarding Jamie.

It was an opinion Clay didn’t seem to share.

“Wait!” Sierra hurried to catch up. “I’ll carry Jamie. He doesn’t like strangers.”

“I’m no stranger.” Clay didn’t take his eyes off the ground in front of him. “I’m his father.”

Anger bloomed inside her. “Clay, I said wait!”

He slowed, then, to her relief, came to a halt. She drew up beside him, weak-kneed from exertion as much as emotional overload.

Jamie hung on to Clay’s neck and giggled.

Maybe he really did like other people, and she was the one with the phobia.

It was possible.

No one other than the pediatrician during their visit to his office last Monday had been allowed to hold Jamie besides Sierra. She didn’t count the months between his birth and three weeks ago when he’d been returned to her. The Stevensons, the ones who’d cared for him, didn’t matter. Didn’t exist. Not after rejecting her child.

“Where are you taking us?” She captured Jamie’s flailing foot in her hand and cupped the ankle, desperately needing the contact. He had been no more than an arm’s length away from her since the minute she’d got him back.

“Ethan’s apartment.”

Sierra remembered now. Her brother had converted the old bunkhouse into an apartment after Sage and Isa moved into the main house.

“We can be alone there and lock the door.”

“Lock the door?” She shook her head. “Aren’t you being a little extreme?”

“No, considering the cavalry’s almost here.”

Sierra looked behind her. Her dad and brothers were indeed coming after them. The three sweetest, most important and ridiculously overprotective men in the world were going to rescue her. She had half a mind to let them. Then, she remembered Clay’s hardheadedness. He wouldn’t give up Jamie without a fight.

“Let me talk to them.”

“I’ll meet you in the apartment.”

Inside? Out of her sight?

“No!” The mere thought of being away from her baby paralyzed her.

The muscles in Clay’s jaw were clenching with anger or impatience or frustration, she didn’t know which. “I won’t take off with him.”

She exhaled slowly. How to explain her crippling separation anxiety? She barely understood it herself.

“I’ll go with you to Ethan’s apartment. Anywhere you want. Just stay where I can see Jamie until I’m done talking to the family. Please.”

“Fine, I’ll wait for you on the porch.”

Sierra mentally measured the distance. Thirty yards, give or take. It felt more like ten miles.

“You have about three seconds to decide.”

Or what? He would go back on his word and run off with Jamie? Her temples throbbed. This day, her entire life, was unraveling at lightning speed.

“Okay.”

As soon as Clay walked away, Sierra regretted her decision. He would be alone with her son. Never once had she imagined Clay would walk into her family’s house and steal Jamie from her like an eagle snatching prey.

With one eye trained on Clay and Jamie, she braced herself for the confrontation with her father and brothers.

“Are you all right?” Wayne Powell demanded the instant he reached her. “What’s going on?”

Gavin zoomed past without so much as a glance in her direction.

“Come back!” she called. When he ignored her, she hollered, “Gavin, don’t make this worse than it already is.”

That did the trick. Fists clenched at his sides, he returned, each step an obvious effort.

Sierra closed her eyes and sighed. Where to begin?

“Is he Jamie’s father?”

She nodded.

“Son of a bitch,” Gavin grumbled. “I’ll kill him.”

“Don’t overreact. He didn’t—” Sierra squeezed her eyes shut. “It was mutual. I knew what I was doing.”

“If you loved him, why didn’t you tell us?” Ethan asked.

How had he guessed? “You despised Clay at the time. Can you imagine your reaction?”

“Damn straight I can,” Gavin agreed.

“Is that why you stayed away so long?” her father asked.

“Dad, I didn’t mean to hurt you. I was confused. I came home for the wedding because I thought Clay was in Texas.”

“He moved back a year or so ago. After his divorce.”

“He’s divorced?” She swayed slightly. “I didn’t know.”

Not that it made any difference.

Or did it?

No difference at all, she assured herself. There was nothing between her and Clay, now or ever again.

Except for Jamie.

“If you thought he was in Texas, why didn’t you come home sooner?” her father asked, his eyes filled with sadness.

Guilt burned a brand-new hole in Sierra, bigger than all the other ones combined.

“It’s complicated. And I’ll tell you as soon as I finish with Clay.”

He’d begun pacing on the porch. From this distance, Sierra couldn’t tell if it was because he’d become restless or Jamie had or perhaps a combination of both. Neither man nor child possessed much patience, and both were prone to impulsiveness. They were also both charming to distraction when it suited them.

“You going to be okay?” Ethan squeezed her upper arm.

“With Clay? Of course. He’s mad right at the moment, but he won’t do anything drastic.”

“I wasn’t referring to Clay.”

“Thank you for caring.” She smiled tenderly at all three men. “I can’t tell you how much I regret the way I treated you the last two years.”

“Don’t worry, honey.” Her father gathered her into a hug and patted her head, much as he’d done when she was a little girl. “Everything will work out.”

She wished she shared his optimism.

“We’ll be right here if you need us.” Gavin stared menacingly at Clay.

“Watch him for me, will you?” Sierra asked Ethan. “I don’t want him going all big-brother on me.”

“Don’t be so hard on Gavin,” her father said. “It’s going to take us a while to get used to all this.”

To say the least.

The walk to the apartment took forever and yet was over in an instant. Sierra climbed the three porch steps with leaden feet and a racing heart.

Clay stood by the door with one hand on the knob, his expression guarded and grave.

Her son’s, on the other hand, lit up at the sight of her, and he babbled excitedly, just as he had three weeks ago when he’d seen her for the first time since the day he was born.

Giving Jamie up for adoption was the hardest thing she’d ever done.

Facing Clay, telling him about it, was coming in a very close second.

* * *

“
H
E
WANTS
DOWN
.” Sierra sat on the couch, assuming, hoping that Clay would sit there, too, and Jamie would crawl across the cushions to her.

Only Clay had chosen the chair, a hand-me-down that used to reside in the living room long before she’d left for college.

Jamie squirmed and wriggled and whined, pushing ruthlessly at Clay’s chest in a bid for freedom. The resemblance between them, same hazel eyes and blond hair, same disarming smile, was striking enough for Sierra realize she wouldn’t have gotten away with lying about her child’s father’s identity for long.

“I won’t take off with him,” she repeated his earlier promise.

Clay released Jamie, reluctantly depositing him on the hardwood floor. He immediately scrambled over to Sierra, then abandoned her just as quickly to explore the cozy apartment. The two-person breakfast set fascinated him. He squeezed between a chair and the table legs, then plopped on the floor beneath the table, cooing with satisfaction.

Sierra hadn’t visited the old bunkhouse in years. As with the main house, the transformation amazed her.

“Why didn’t you tell me about Jamie?”

It was like Clay to ask the toughest question first.

She collected her thoughts before replying. “The simple answer is I found out you and Jessica were back together and getting married. Showing up at the wedding and announcing I was carrying your child didn’t feel like the right thing to do.”

“That’s not reason enough. You denied me my son.”

“Yes, I did.” And she would do it again, given half the chance.

“Why?”

She wasn’t going to admit she’d fallen in love during their two-week affair and that the announcement of his marriage so soon after it ended had crushed her. Clay would sense her vulnerability, and she wasn’t about to give him any advantage.

“I denied myself my son, too,” she said.

“I don’t see how.” He glowered at her as if she were a criminal when what she’d really been was a victim—of his callousness and the Stevensons’ heartlessness.

“I didn’t learn I was pregnant until after Dad told me you and Jessica had set a date.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you myself.” Clay’s glower momentarily abated. “I owed you that much.”

He had. And admitting it almost two years too late didn’t diminish her anguish.

“I was never very regular,” she continued without acknowledging his apology. “It wasn’t until the flu bug I thought I’d caught didn’t go away that I finally considered the possibility I was pregnant. You have to understand what a shock it was. We’d used protection.”

“I do understand. But that’s still no reason to keep Jamie a secret.”

“I didn’t tell my family, either, not that it matters.”

“It does, actually. I was going to give Ethan and Gavin hell for not telling me.”

“Today was the first I’d heard you and my brothers were friends again.”

“More than friends. Gavin and I are partners in a mustang stud and breeding business, and Ethan works for me at the rodeo arena, breaking and training broncs.”

“Wow!” Friends and business partners
and
coworkers. It was a lot for Sierra to absorb all at once.

“You’d have known we’d reconciled if you’d ever talked to your family.”

“I deserved that.” She may have, but it still stung.

“I didn’t say it to be mean.”

Hadn’t he?

The glower had returned, raising her hackles.

“Regardless, at the time I found out I was pregnant, you and my family hated each other and had for years. Which is the reason we snuck around those two weeks.”

“I wanted to tell them about us, if you remember.”

“Right. Like I was supposed to say, ‘Hey, Dad, I’m dating Clay, the son of the man who sold the land that was in our family for four generations.’ They’d have disowned me.”

“That’s not true.”

“They wouldn’t have been happy. Dad despised your father.”

“For the record, I never agreed with what he did to your family. We’ve hardly spoken in years.”

“That’s too bad.”

“No, it isn’t.” Clay ground out the words as if they tasted foul.

Whatever had transpired between him and his father must have been quite ugly.

“He’s family.” Sierra was just now rediscovering how important family was, even when the parent was a soulless man like Bud Duvall.

“So is Jamie,” Clay said. “My family.”

They both looked at their son.

He’d grown bored with his pretend cave beneath the table and had crawled out. Before he could interest himself in an electrical outlet or a lamp cord, Sierra rose from the couch, located a ring of keys on the counter and gave them to him. Thrilled, he sat on the floor between the kitchen and living room and proceeded to investigate his new toy with avid concentration.