Bucking the Rules (19 page)

“Mmm.” She smiled with her eyes still closed. “Best way to wake up ever.”

He said nothing, but played her body with hands that knew every inch of her. But as his fingers walked their way down to her stomach, she switched it up and flipped on top of him.

“My turn. You were beat. Let me play.”

He might be a slow cowboy, but he wasn't an idiot. He propped himself back against the headboard, arms behind his head, and watched as she explored his chest with her hands, her lips, teeth. Every nip brought a restrained shiver down his spine, until she reached his hips. The pressure there had him fighting a buck.

And then she took his balls in her hand, working them gently, using just enough pressure to have him groaning. And when she took the head of his erection in her mouth, tongue swirling over the sensitive skin, he had to bite back a whimper that would have made Milton proud.

“God, Jo . . . oh, man.” He couldn't resist any longer. As her mouth slowly advanced down the length of him, his hands cupped the back of her head. He could have directed her, chosen his pace. She was responsive in bed, receptive to what he needed, but he let her choose.

There was power in submission, he'd learned.

She worked him with her tongue, adding in her hand to cover more of him, squeezing in rhythm.

“Jo . . . close . . .”

She hummed in answer, and he lost any hope of holding out longer. He gave a short warning, then pulsed his release into the warmth of her mouth.

She pulled him back down from the high, staying with him until he tugged gently at her hair. Then she crawled up his body like a cat and collapsed beside him, one leg over his thigh, arm over his chest, head on his shoulder.

“When I can move again, your turn. 'Kay?” he asked, voice slurred. He couldn't gather the energy to enunciate.

“Deal.” Jo shifted and smoothed a hand down Trace's chest. “I suppose while you're sleepy and satisfied, now would be a good time to get some intel on Seth's mother.”

Trace stiffened, then forced himself to relax. “What intel?”

She laughed and rolled tighter into him. “No, I'm kidding. She seems to be a mystery to everyone. I assume your family knows about her but—”

“They don't.”

“No?” The surprise in her voice shook off the last of the sexual cobwebs.

Be more open. Be honest. Last time he'd withheld info, he'd nearly lost her. Now was the time to give the story and let the chips fall. “I was too embarrassed to tell them, when I first got home. Now it's sort of a matter of pride to keep Peyton guessing.”

“Sibling stuff,” Jo scoffed.

“Partly. But mostly, I'm still embarrassed.”

“You don't have to go into it. It doesn't matter.”

“It does, and it doesn't. Let's try the honesty route this time.” He grasped her hand over his chest and pressed it down. There was no way she could miss how his heart hammered in his chest, but he wasn't about to let go. “Seth's mom, Rose—”

“Rose,” she said quietly.

“Yeah. Rose. She was married.”

“And you were, what, her rebound? A divorce celebration?”

“Maybe I would have been, if she'd been divorced. She's still married now. Or at least, I assume she is.”

Jo remained silent. He wanted so badly to tilt his head down and see what her face said, but he couldn't. He might not finish otherwise. So he plowed on, unknowing. Going on faith.

“I met her on the road. Liked her. She's a likable woman, not just a hot piece. Never thought it'd be anything permanent. Permanent wasn't really a word for me while I was moving from town to town, following the biggest prize money, you know?”

“Yeah, I know.” The words were said simply, with no hint of her feelings.

“But I liked her. And so we spent time together. And then I found out she was married.”

He knew where her mind was going. That Rose had already been pregnant when he found out.

“But I kept seeing her. I liked her. She wasn't happy with her marriage. He was an ass, and she'd left him and just hadn't gotten around to filing papers, whatever. Each day brought a new justification. All of them were bullshit. The minute I knew, I should have stopped. But we didn't.”

Lonely. He'd been so lonely, so homesick, and she'd become a friendly face for him on the road. And he'd been weak enough to ignore everything he knew was right.

He breathed deep, and took a chance by lacing his fingers with hers. She allowed it.

“She ended it. I hate having to say that, too, since you'd think I'd have been man enough to walk away from the situation. But I wasn't. I let it ride until she said she and her husband were going to reconcile. It wasn't a hardship to let her go. I need you to know that. It wasn't like I loved her or anything.”

Another black mark on his soul, but Jo said nothing.

“And then she found me a month later, saying she was pregnant and it was absolutely mine. Her husband was pissed, but maybe he wasn't quite the ass she'd led me to believe. He was ready to put the whole thing behind him if she was willing to give up the baby. Either adoption or abortion.”

Jo's hand clenched a little around his, but she stayed quiet so he could finish.

“If I didn't want the baby, she was just going to abort. I didn't think twice before telling her no. But Jesus, after she left, I puked my guts out with nerves.” He could smile a little now, at the memory of his pure panic. “I all but told her I was ready to tackle single fatherhood . . . and I'd never even held a baby in my adult life. Cradling Baby Bea when I was like five didn't count. I had no family nearby, no friends that were around for longer than a night or two before we went our separate ways again, and no home to call my own. Scared didn't even cover it.”

“But you didn't call and take it back. You could have, and you didn't.”

Her understanding, and even encouragement, pushed him on. “No. I didn't. And so, seven months later, I got the call to meet her at the hospital. I walked in, and there he was. Perfect.”

He swallowed a little to keep from tearing up. “The most perfect thing I'd ever seen. And I knew, even though I'd been making a mess out of life when I made him, he was perfect and mine.”

“You didn't get to see him being born?” Jo rubbed her cheek over his shoulder. “That's sad.”

“Given the circumstances, I felt lucky she even went through with the whole pregnancy. She wasn't a monster. Rose, I mean. Neither was her husband, though she'd led me to believe it at first. Or maybe that's just how I painted him to justify my own actions. And I wasn't either. Just a handful of adults making bad choices, who were all fortunate enough to make the right ones so my son could have a chance.”

“Do you ever wonder if she'll come back and try to get him? Get custody, or whatever?”

The idea had his blood pounding in an instinctive fight-or-flight response. But he breathed through that.

“She signed away her rights. I guess in this day and age, anyone can sue for rights again. You can sue someone because a candy bar made you fat. But instinct tells me she's not interested in remembering the affair—and consequence—that nearly ruined her marriage. I haven't heard from her since the day the final line was signed making me the sole parent. She's not a monster,” he said again, reminding them both.

“Is that how you want it?” The question was cautious, though he wasn't sure whether the hesitation came from the question itself, or her fear of the answer.

“For now. Much as people like to talk about how a parenting duo is best, I know what my son needs is me. He's got a support dream team, a place to call his own, and he's got me. That's all he needs for the moment. I figure this parenting gig is sort of fluid. If something isn't working, we move on to try a new approach.”

“Very scientific of you.” Her voice held a touch of humor. “But why all the mystery?”

“I never want someone to look at my son and think
mistake
. He is blameless and amazing and I know that's what would happen if the story of his mother got out. So I just locked it all down.”

She rolled until she was on top of him, her breasts pushing into his chest. “And the fact that people gossip and wonder doesn't bother you?”

“They can talk about me all they want,” he said. He didn't care. They couldn't hurt him. “Doesn't matter. Seth is what matters. I can take it.”

Jo kissed him lightly. “You're a good man, Trace.”

He eyed her. “So you don't think less of me for it?”

“For what?” She seemed truly baffled.

“For having an affair with a married woman, knowing she was married.”

Jo glanced over his head for a minute and chewed on her lip. But he knew she was trying to figure out how to word her response, not how to spin a lie.

“I think you made a mistake, which ended up reaping an unexpected reward. You obviously learned from it, since you're here beating yourself up about the whole thing. And in the end, when the chips were down, you had a choice, too.”

“There was no choice.” How could she think there was?

“There was,” she argued softly. “So many men would have seen the out. She was fine with an abortion. Easy enough, and the problem goes away. You get to move on to the next woman, she gets her husband back, and nobody has to think about it again. You could have. But you didn't. You chose the hard route. The one that permanently tied you to another human being for the long haul. Not just eighteen years, but life.”

“He's my son.” That's all he could think. All he could say.

“Exactly.” She kissed him again. “You're a good man. You made a mistake. Trust me, I've made a few myself. But you learned, and you can move on.”

“With a kid.”

“Yeah. With Seth.” She nuzzled into the nook of his neck. “You're a cute pair.”

“Why, thank you.” He flipped her over onto her back and worked his way down her body to her breasts. “Now, I believe I had a turn coming to me.”

T
race pulled up to the bar and parked. This was stupid. He shouldn't have come. But he just couldn't seem to stay away.

In the backseat of his extended cab, Seth whined and twisted in his seat. While the truck was in motion, his son never minded being buckled in. But when they pulled to a stop, it was game over. He wanted to go, or he wanted out. Trace felt the same way.

“Sorry, little man. Let's get you out of here.” He hopped down and unbuckled Seth from the car seat, making up his mind then and there to stop by. “We're just going to pop in quickly and drop off the cookies from Emma. No pressure, right? We're not hanging around to make her nervous.”

He knew Jo had the afternoon off; she'd texted him that much when he'd messaged her to say good morning. So he didn't even bother peeking in the bar doors, instead going straight up to her apartment. After a quick knock, he jostled Seth a little on his hip. “You're going to behave, right? All I need is for you to . . . hey.”

Jo opened the door, watching them both warily. Her hair was up; she wore a faded scoop neck T-shirt and sweats with the elastic pushed up over her calves and bare feet. “Hey. What's up?”

He held up the hand with the bag. “Delivery from Emma.”

“Oh.” With another quick glance toward Seth, she opened the door farther and motioned. “Come on in.”

“Thanks.” He handed her the bag and set Seth on the floor with his stuffed dinosaur, Danny. The kid could crawl like hell on wheels, but the apartment was small enough—and Jo was tidy enough—there wasn't much for him to get into. “Emma wanted to thank you for lunch the other day.”

Jo smirked. “You bought lunch downstairs. I didn't even make it. That would be Stu's domain.”

“Well, he can have a cookie, too.” He kissed her cheek, then breathed in. “You cleaning?”

“Yeah, how'd you know?”

“You smell like lemon,” he said with a grin. It was such a homey, domestic picture, he couldn't help himself. He kissed her more fully on the lips, savoring the contact while still trying to keep one ear out for Seth and any possible mischief. This whole Dating Daddy thing was hell on his nerves.

“While you're here, you want one?” She pulled back and shook the bag. “I've got some milk up here, if you and Seth want some.” She chewed her lip a little. “Can he have cookies yet?”

“Sure, one won't hurt the kid. And I'm always game for some milk and Emma's cookies.” He found Seth pulling himself up to stand with the help of the edge of the coffee table. His newest favorite trick. Soon enough, the kid would be walking. The thought both thrilled him and terrified him. “Seth's not much for cups yet, though, so he'll just take the cookie.” He went to pick up Seth for their snack.

“Oh, well . . .” Jo popped into the kitchen, then back out again, holding something. He walked over and took it.

It was a sippie cup, decorated with little cowboy boots and spurs and lassos. “What's this doing here?”

“I was going to give it to him next time I came over. Or just to you, to give to him.” She snatched it back. “It was stupid. I saw it when I was grocery shopping this morning and I just bought it. It was an impulse purchase. Like a candy bar at the register. If you don't think he needs it, I can just—”

He kissed her again to stop the flow of words, arching his back in a complex pose to keep Seth from pulling Jo's hair.

She'd bought his son a sippie cup. A completely benign item, probably only a few bucks, and not altogether special on its own. But this was his Jo. And she'd done it all by herself. And now she was embarrassed by it.

This was a fantastic sign.

“It's perfect. He'll love it.”

“I'll just go wash it,” she mumbled and took off into the kitchen again.

Seth yanked on Trace's collar and he watched his son motion to the kitchen. “You want the cup back? She'll bring it. Let's sit down here a minute and wait our turn.”

He sat, Seth on his knee, and angled the chair out to give them both room. With his legs as long as they were, both his and Seth's chubby thighs didn't fit under the table.

“Okay, so that's one milk for the little guy,” Jo said, carrying in three glasses like a pro. She set the cup down in front of Seth, who grabbed it and started chugging. “Wow, thirsty, huh?”

“Kid likes his milk.” Trace took the glass she offered him and smiled. “Thanks for letting us hang out. We weren't going to stay. . . .”

Jo smiled a little at Seth. “It's fine. He's cute. And much less crabby than last time, huh?” She reached out and traced one finger down the boy's cheek. Seth leaned into the touch and grunted excitedly.

Trace reached for the bag of cookies, but had to drop them to grab hold of Seth, who leaned over so far he almost fell from his perch. “Easy, son.”

Seth swung his arms wildly and reached across the table.

“You'll get your cookie, calm down.” He managed to keep one arm around Seth and reach in the bag for the other. “Kids are born knowing the difference between a carrot and a cookie, I swear it.”

Jo broke one of the treats in half, chocolate chips melting and stretching between the two pieces. “Since my diet likely isn't much better than a toddler's, I have to agree with him on the eagerness.”

Trace held out half a cookie, but Seth kept reaching across the table. Not at the bag, but at . . .

“Oh, no.” Trace jiggled the boy a little on his knee. “She's busy eating her snack. You eat yours.”

Jo's eyes widened. “Does he want my cookie? I thought they were all the same, but he can—”

“Not your cookie. You.” He shrugged. “He likes people. You're still new. He wants to come over and say hi. He'll get over it.”

Jo's hands froze, fingers almost to her mouth with a bite of cookie. “He wants me to hold him?”

“Probably, but don't worry about it. It's no big deal.” He tried to distract Seth with the cup, but nothing doing. The kid kept reaching for Jo like she was a walking candy factory and he was a kid with a sweet tooth. “Or maybe we should just head out now, since he's a little anxious.”

“Oh, well . . .” She put the cookie down and brushed her hands together, ridding them of crumbs. “If you don't mind, I could take him for a minute. I guess. . . .” She reached out, then pulled back. “I can't, like, hurt him or anything, can I?”

Trace chuckled, but swallowed it when he realized she was serious. “No, he's pretty well past the breakable stage. Kids are born with rubber in their bones anyway, Emma says. It's a survival thing. If you're sure.”

“Yeah. I mean, he's a little kid. How hard could it be? You'll tell me if I do it wrong, right?” She reached out with more confidence now, and took Seth under the arms as Trace passed him over. His son cooed his happiness at the change of scenery and the new person to discover.

“Oh, hey.” She gingerly removed one tiny fist from around her hoop earring. “Ouch. Okay, no more of that.”

“Sorry.” Trace stood, ready to take Seth back, but Jo motioned for him to sit back down.

“We're just getting to know each other. It's okay.” She and Seth were nose to nose for a moment, and then Seth's chubby hands came out to palm her cheeks. He blew a spit bubble that nearly landed on her lips, and laughed hysterically.

“Apparently Muldoon men can't resist you.”

Jo's smile was one of mild wonder. He recognized it easily. It was the same look he'd felt cross his face every time he snuck in to watch Seth sleeping in his crib the first few months of his life. He doubted it ever would completely fade away, the wonder and mystery that was watching your child grow up.

“Wanna try a cookie now?” She held out the snack, and Seth's hand shot out like a cannon to claim it. “I guess that's a yes.”

Trace's cell phone buzzed in his pocket, and he stood to take it out and check the ID. “It's Bea.” He slipped it back in his pocket. “She's probably got some stupid errand she wants me to run. Pass.”

“So you're going to act like you didn't know.” Jo's eyebrow rose in mock disapproval.

“Sure am. I'm surrounded by women in that house. Seth's not a reliable partner in crime yet. I seize any lifeline I can. God knows what she wants. Feminine hygiene products or something.” He shuddered, and then frowned when his phone buzzed a second time. Bea again. “This is a little much, even for her. Just let me see what's up.”

“Sure.” Jo grabbed Seth's cup and set it in front of him, making it dance a little to his son's delight. “We're fine.”

He stepped back toward the bedroom where Seth's squeals weren't so penetrating and answered the call. “What's up, Bea?”

“Trace?” Bea's voice was thin and shaky. An actress she might be, but even he recognized immediately this upset was real. “Can you come get me?”

“What happened? Where are you? Are you all right?”

Bea sniffled; then he could almost hear her sucking it up to get out the important facts. “I drove into town for some shopping.”

“Where are you?”

“Not Marshall. I was heading to Pierre. I thought I could make a day of it. But then on my way a trucker ran me off the road and my car hit the guard rail and then another car hit me from behind and . . .” Despite her best efforts to continue the story, Trace lost her words from there in a sea of sobs and half-stutters and wails.

“Okay, Bea-Bea, okay. Calm down, now. We'll fix it. Where are you exactly?”

She named the small town where her car had been towed. Trace mentally calculated the distance. At least an hour out, maybe more depending on traffic.

“Okay. Someone will come—”

“No,” she wailed. “You. Please, Trace. Peyton's not at the house, and neither is Emma, and Red is gone for the week. And I don't want any of the hands. I want my brother!” she ended on another sob.

“I'm coming. I'll come get you,” he tried to soothe her. Inadequately, as it turned out, because she kept crying. “Are you sure you're okay? Should someone take you to a hospital just to check?”

“No, I'm fine. I'm just scared and I keep shaking.”

“Try to find a blanket or something to stay warm in. That's shock. You'll be fine, Bea-Bea. I promise.” He closed his phone and momentarily pressed his thumbs into his eyes.

If he drove all the way back home to drop Seth off—and with whom? Emma wasn't home now—he'd lose another hour or more, as Bea's location was in the other direction from the ranch. But there was nobody in town to take the boy.

Nothing he could do about it. He pocketed the phone and walked back to the living room. The sight that greeted him lifted his spirits momentarily, dragging him up from the trenches.

Seth had a hank of Jo's hair wrapped around his wrist. She was tugging on it playfully, whipping it around like a lasso and tickling his belly at the same time. Seth could barely keep upright, he was laughing so hard.

“We have to go.”

Jo immediately recognized his tone and stood, shifting Seth to her hip in a natural motion that made Trace's chest squeeze. Did she even realize how good she could be with his son? “What happened?”

“Bea was in an accident, about an hour north of here.” He reached for Seth, but the boy buried his face in Jo's neck. “Come on, kiddo, we've gotta go rescue your Auntie Bea.”

Seth whimpered.

“Seth, little man, come on. I don't have time.”

“I could keep him,” Jo said, then her eyes widened as if she couldn't believe she'd said it.

Trace paused in the act of taking hold of Seth. “Seriously? You don't have to do that.”

She watched Seth for a moment, then shrugged. “He's not even one yet. How hard could it be, right? You've got things for him?”

“In the truck. Are you sure? I don't want you to feel like you have to. I can figure something out. I can—”

“Go get the stuff, Trace.” She rolled her eyes. “Offer closes in five minutes.”

“Got it. Right.” Not one to look a gift babysitter in the mouth, he hustled out the door to grab Seth's bag and prayed he wasn't making a huge mistake.

 

“How hard could it be, right?” Jo quietly mimicked herself as she paced the floor for the umpteenth time. “He's not even one yet.”

Seth made a pathetic sort of sniffling sound and hiccuped. He was as fed up with the situation as she was.

At a loss, she rubbed his back a little and bounced. But the bouncing, which had worked twenty minutes ago, had lost its appeal with the little guy. He whimpered, so she stopped.

After a few moments, the sounds died down, and she walked past the hall mirror to check over her shoulder whether he was asleep.

Nope. Wide awake. But not crying. Yet. Taking a chance, she eased him to the floor, laying him on his back. “You've got the run of the place, dude. Explore.”

Instead of rolling to his belly and taking off like a rocket as she expected, he stared up at her pitifully, as he had been doing the last hour.

“Go ahead. You can go,” she said. Right, like that was going to make sense to him.

His lip quivered, and then the wailing started again.

Oh, God damn it.

“What?” She grabbed a handful of her own hair and tugged to relieve the tension in her skull. “What do you need? You're not dirty. You're not hungry. You're not cold, you're not hot. You don't want to be walked, you don't want to be put down, you don't want to be held. You're like an adult male, impossible to please. Let's cut the games and get to the good stuff. What do you need?”