Cowboy in Charge (8 page)

“I go to school today, Mommy?” Scott asked.

“Yeah,” Jason said. He stowed the plastic-wrapped half of Scott’s sandwich in the restocked refrigerator. “Didn’t you tell me he goes to preschool? Are they still off for the holidays?”

She shook her head. “We call it school because he has lessons.”

“Like the big kids,” Scott put in.

“Exactly.” She smiled at him, then glanced over at Jason. “He and Jill go to day care in a private home that doesn’t run on holidays. The woman who owns it also watches them for me when I work a night shift.”

“Miss Rhea,” Scott said.

“That’s right.” She gave him another smile before she continued, “I kept Scott home when I got sick. The first day, it hit me so hard, I wasn’t up to getting him ready to go out. And then I wanted to make sure he hadn’t caught the bug, too.” She turned back to Scott. “No Miss Rhea’s today. You stay home one more day and you can go tomorrow.”

“Does the kid understand what
tomorrow
means?”

Layne gave him a level look. “Ask him.”

“What’s
tomorrow
, Scott?” He was startled to see the boy’s frown. It matched the expression he’d occasionally caught in his own mirror. Now, he had an answer to his best friend’s question about which of his parents Scott took after.

“I go to sleep,” the boy said, “and then I open my eyes and see the sun again.” He had almost chanted the reply. Layne must have taught him that, too.

She rose from her seat and carried a couple of plates to the sink.

He grabbed their drinking glasses.

They cleaned off the table and counters as if they had worked together every day for years. In the close quarters of her small kitchen, it wouldn’t have taken but a half step at any given moment for him to brush up against her. To set her up on the counter the way he’d always hoisted her onto the table at the laundry. And to settle his hips between her knees as he leaned in to take a kiss.

And every time those thoughts crossed his mind, he had to remind himself to keep his hands to himself.

Alone, she would have been fair game. With a couple of kids, she was off-limits. Even if she hadn’t been out of his reach, he had to focus on his son.

These few days together had already convinced him he needed more than a weeklong visit each summer. He wanted an ongoing connection to his child and hoped he and Layne could at least agree to that. Making a move on her wouldn’t help his cause in the slightest.

While she finished loading the dishwasher, he leaned back against the counter. “Maybe you ought to take a nap, too, while Jill’s asleep,” he suggested. “I’ll keep Scott occupied.”

She turned to him, her expression blank. “I thought you were leaving after lunch. You said you planned to drive out to Jed’s.”

“I did say that. But I thought I’d stick around for a while yet. You’ve been up and moving around since we left for the store this morning. I figure you’re due for some downtime.”

She shook her head. “I’m fine.”

“Then, since you’re not sending Scott back to school until tomorrow, why don’t I take him to the park for a while?”

“No.”

“Yay!”

The contradictory responses came as if in the same breath. Before Jason could address either one, Layne turned to Scott. “Honey, you go play with your cars in the living room, okay?”

“I go to park with Jason.”

“Not today.”

“I go tomorrow?”

Smart kid.

“You have school again tomorrow, remember?” she said. “You go ahead to the living room. Mommy will be there in just a minute.”

He shot a look toward Jason but said nothing else. He slid from his seat and left the kitchen.

Very smart kid.

Layne turned to him. “When you have children, you learn to be careful what you say in front of them.”

Damn. Mama wasn’t bad herself. In one sentence, she’d managed both to slap him with a warning and to ignore the fact Scott was his son.

He swallowed his anger and said mildly, “I already have a kid, and I’m trying to get to know him. What’s the harm in taking a walk in the park?”

“The harm is that raising kids isn’t just about a walk in the park. But you wouldn’t know that.” She took a deep breath and let it out again. “Jason, don’t do this. You’ve had some time with Scott. And that’s as far as this will go. Because
you’re
going to go.”

“Not before we see the sun a few times again.”

“Don’t try to be funny. There’s nothing amusing about this conversation.” This time, her breath sounded shaky. “Please. Don’t make this harder than it has to be. I’m going to go out into the living room with Scott. Come with me and say goodbye. You’re not staying, in my house or in Cowboy Creek. And I won’t let Scott get close to another man only to see him walk out of his life.”

“I’m not just ‘another man.’”

“You are, to my son. As far as he knows, he has one parent—me. And I’m the only one he’s going to know.”

Chapter Eight

Jason stared into the mirror behind the bar without seeing much of anything. He’d come to the Cantina, Cowboy Creek’s only restaurant-slash-saloon for a place to hang out for a while. To get some distance from Layne. And to give her a chance to settle down.

No matter what she said, he wasn’t leaving her alone with the kids for the night. If his own conscience hadn’t already ensured that—and it had—his conversations with Jed and Sugar would have closed the deal.

From behind him, someone clapped a heavy hand on his shoulder, startling him into knocking over his bottle of pop. As he made a grab for the bottle, a man slid onto the empty bar stool beside his. In the mirror opposite, he caught the glint of a badge on a uniform shirt.

Jeez, had Layne called in the law?

He’d left her apartment peacefully enough, considering she’d kicked him out yet again.

With Jed most likely still holding court at SugarPie’s and Jed’s ranch manager, Pete, off on his honeymoon, there had been no point heading to the Hitching Post. And he couldn’t think of anywhere else to go to kill some time. The Cantina had the added benefit of keeping him from running into anyone he knew. It was long enough after noon that the lunchtime crowd had cleared out, yet too early for the dinners and drinking to begin.

But in a small town like this one, he should have known better than to expect he could escape notice. Especially from the law.

He eyed the man on the bar stool, who now sat chugalugging from a bottle of water. Then he set the bottle on the bar and held out his hand to Jason. “Long time no see.”

As recognition hit, he blinked. He shook hands with the deputy. “Mitch Weston, a sheriff? I can’t believe my eyes.”

“Believe it. And I’m new to the department but not to the work. Before this, I was with the LAPD.” The bartender approached, and Mitch turned to deliver his lunch order.

Jason’s path had crossed with Mitch’s often enough all through school, and once he’d started wrangling at Garland Ranch, they had run across each other frequently there. Mitch had been good with livestock but always more interested in horsepower than horses. When he turned back again, Jason said, “Don’t tell me Cowboy Creek’s got a motorcycle unit.”

“We’re not big enough for that. Besides, my biking days are over. We run to patrol cars, and that’s about it.” He reached for his water bottle. “What brings you back to town? Or do I need to ask?”

The other man had been around in the days when he and Layne had started dating. Not answering, he took another swig of his pop.

“Jed says you’ll be staying with us at the Hitching Post,” Mitch added.

“‘Us’?”

“Yeah. I’m marrying the last of his granddaughters. Technically, I’m bunking in with my folks until the wedding, but I spend more time out at the hotel than I do at home.” Mitch grinned. “In case you hadn’t heard yet, Jed has turned into the town matchmaker. He’s run out of eligible family members, but that won’t stop him. If you’re not interested, I’d advise you to watch your step or, before you know it, he’ll have you matched up with the nearest unattached female.”

What would he think if he knew Jed was already in there swinging? “What else did he have to say?”

“Not much, except that you took a room at the Hitching Post, though nobody’s seen anything of you out there yet. Cole thought you might be lying low because of him.”

“Why would he think that?”

“He just found out you were back in town, and he’s protective of his sister. You can’t fault the man for that.”

“Meaning, you can fault the other guy?”

Mitch shrugged. “I’m not making judgments. I wasn’t around at all when Layne was married to you. Or to Terry, for that matter.”

The bartender set a sack lunch on the counter in front of Mitch. He paid, grabbed the sack and stood. After the bartender went to take care of another customer a few stools away, Mitch turned back. “I’m staying neutral in this. And as Jed would put it, Cole’s not gunning for bear, either. But I think he’ll have a lot to say when you two meet. Luckily, he’s too busy now with Pete on his honeymoon to get away from the ranch.”

“Thanks for the warning.”

“Just trying to keep the peace.” Mitch grinned, then walked away.

What a helluva reception he’d gotten in Cowboy Creek today. Warnings from the local law. A caution from the sandwich shop owner. Advice from a man who couldn’t possibly consider him a candidate for matchmaking services. And on top of all that, grief from the ex-wife who could keep him from his son.

Except for the last on that list, the rest of the folks in town had a point. Way back when, they’d known better than he had that his marriage wouldn’t last. Now they knew how little chance he had of making up for walking away.

He turned back to his bottle of pop and thought about the day he’d spent at Greg’s house swigging down a couple of beers. The picture he’d had in his head then of coming back to town sure wasn’t matching reality—and he had no one to blame but himself.

To his discredit, he had thought only about himself and his son, about checking on his child’s welfare, as if Layne played no part in his equation. Of course, to hear her tell it,
he
played no part in
hers
.

He had left her apartment this afternoon feeling the way he had when he’d walked away years ago. Except for the guilt. Back then, knowing their split was bitter but mutual, he’d felt justified. With the distance of a few years behind him, he realized he could have tried harder to fix things with her. To repair his marriage. He knew he needed to try harder to get along with her now.

He rubbed his jaw, took another drink and stared at himself in the mirror. Though he didn’t look much different than he had before he’d left Cowboy Creek, he
was
different. He was a better man than the one who had left. And he needed to prove that to Layne.

* * *

F
INISHED
TYING
J
ILL
’
S
hat beneath her chin, Layne glanced across the living room. Scott leaned against the arm of the couch, head tilted down as he concentrated on buttoning his jacket. She smiled. Shoelaces were still beyond him, but he was proud of his ability to do up his buttons.

She looked at his expression, so like Jason’s, and swallowed a sigh.

She regretted her knee-jerk response to Jason’s request to take Scott to the park. He’d done so much for them, for her, these past few days. She had already acknowledged that to herself. But she couldn’t forget their history. Couldn’t let a few days of his attention wipe their slate clean.

A knock on the door startled her. Crazy as it seemed, that special, silly little tap had the power to make her heart pound. And foolish as it might be, she wished she could just stand there quietly and ignore the summons.

But of course, Scott ran to the door. “Who is that?” he called.

“It’s...Jason.”

Scott turned to her, and the look of excitement on his face made her heart thud. “Just a minute,” she called. She lifted Jill in her carrier and crossed the room.

When she opened the door, Jason’s eyebrows rose in surprise. He gestured to her and Scott dressed in jackets, and to Jill tucked cozily in her carrier beneath a baby blanket. “Going somewhere?”

She flushed, her cheeks growing so warm, she thought she might be having a relapse. The truth was, she needed to get out of the house, to distract herself from thoughts of him. She had considered going to the park with the kids, but after the way she had refused to let him take Scott there, she couldn’t do that. “We’re taking a walk to SugarPie’s.”

“Are you up for it?”

“I’ll have to be. I’m going a little stir-crazy here.” She hesitated. “What brought you back again?”

He hefted the duffel bag she hadn’t noticed he was carrying. “I changed my mind. If the offer’s still open, I’ll take you up on washing some of my T-shirts.” Before she could answer, he had stepped inside and set the bag on the floor beside the couch.

She had already finished the load of shirts, but she had plenty of other laundry to do. And she
had
also acknowledged that she needed to pay him back for his help. “Yes, the offer’s open. But the kids are ready to go. If you can handle the washer on your own, feel free—”

“No problem. We can run the load when we get back.” He plucked the handle of the carrier from her arm.

“You don’t need to go—”

“Jason come, too?” Scott asked.

“Yes,” he said firmly, “Jason come, too. We didn’t have dessert after lunch, did we?”

Scott laughed, shaking his head. “
De-e-e
. Didn’t have dessert.”

“I think we need some, don’t you?”

“Yes!”

Swallowing a protest, she followed them both from the apartment. She owed Jason for the groceries, and he had insisted on paying for lunch, too. The least she could do was take care of dessert.

She gestured to the carriage sitting just outside the door. “I was going to put Jill in this.”

“Got it.”

By the time she locked the door, Jason had tucked Jill into the carriage and he and Scott had started off in the direction of Canyon Road, Cowboy Creek’s main street. Scott walked beside Jason with one hand on the handle of the carriage.

With Jason shortening his steps to match her son’s, she easily caught up to them.

They walked along together as if they were simply out for their usual stroll. Half of her wanted to believe in the fantasy. The other half of her wanted to call off this trip—this farce—and go home.

The afternoon sun was strong enough to combat the January chill in the air. It just couldn’t do much about the shiver running through her. She crossed her arms over her chest and kept moving.

“You cold?” Jason asked. He wore no jacket, just the T-shirt he’d put on that morning.

“I’m fine,” she said. It was partly true. Whether her reaction had come from pleasure or apprehension, she certainly wouldn’t admit either possibility to Jason.

What she
should
do was tell him to turn the carriage over to her and then go on his way. She didn’t want him getting more involved with her children. Considering their history, anyone would understand her feelings. And yet there were things she
did
want that didn’t make any sense.

“I’d forgotten how quiet it is in Cowboy Creek,” he said.

Not a car came down the side street, not a pedestrian walked in sight. Not even a dog barked anywhere within hearing.

“That’s why I like this neighborhood. It’s quiet. Safe for the kids.”

“You’ve lived here for a while.”

He made it a statement, not a question, but she knew what he was asking. And what was the point of hiding the truth? “Just since my second divorce.” She looked sideways at him. “Where’s home for you nowadays?”

“I don’t have a home.” She caught the bitterness in his tone. Then he laughed, and she realized she must have been mistaken. “Unless you call a bunkhouse full of cowboys a home.”

“I suppose it is, if that’s where you sleep every night.”

He glanced at her as if he suspected a double meaning from the comment. When she said nothing else, he shrugged. “To tell the truth, over the past few years, I’ve probably slept in my truck more than I have in the bunkhouse.”

Scott gasped. “Go to sleep in a
truck
?”

“I sure do,” he confirmed.

“Mommy, I can have a truck, too?”

“I don’t think so, honey. It wouldn’t fit in your bedroom. And where would we put Jill’s crib?”

“In my
truck
.”

She and Jason both laughed.

She blinked and looked away. Scott’s questions had reminded her of the caution she’d given Jason about watching what he said in front of kids. She had been unforgivably offensive to him—again. Somehow, she couldn’t seem to stop crossing the line between asserting her rights and fighting a long-dead battle.

A slight breeze ruffled the loose edge of Jill’s blanket. She reached over to tuck the cover into the carriage just as Jason reached down. Their hands collided, his fingers warm against hers. She shoved her hand into her jacket pocket. He tucked the blanket in and checked that the baby was covered, too, as if he’d done it a hundred times before.

At the crosswalk, Scott reached up to take Jason’s hand, the way he had been taught to do with her whenever they crossed a street.

She wanted to pull her son’s hand away from Jason’s just as she had done with her own. But how could she protest without confusing Scott?

She was already confused enough herself. Almost, she wished Jason had never come back. Almost, she wished he had already gone home. He
would
go. That was inevitable. He had always been there for the fun times and in the short term. But when things got tough, he bolted.

Taking care of the kids while she was sick couldn’t be classified as a pleasure in anyone’s book, yet he’d done what he could for them. A walk to the sandwich shop wasn’t much of a hot time, either. Yet, here he was.

And almost, she wished she could trust him to be around to share
all
the simple, everyday events in her life.

* * *

T
HEY
HADN
’
T
MADE
it as far as SugarPie’s, after all. When they had turned the corner onto Canyon Road, Scott had spotted the Big Dipper. He set his sights on going there, and his mama had gone along with the change in plans.

Jason didn’t mind, either. A banana split wouldn’t have been his first choice of dessert in January, but it never dropped off his personal menu. He wondered how much of Layne’s agreement was driven by the boy’s eagerness to have ice cream and how much of it came from her need to sit down.

They were the only ones in the place, which allowed her to argue with him about who would pay for their order.

“You bought my groceries,” she said in a low voice when Shay had moved away to assemble his banana split. “Getting dessert is the least I can do.”

“You never pay when I’m with you at the Big Dipper,” he said flatly.