Baby's First Homecoming (7 page)

He thought of Jamie. If someone had suggested to Clay ten days ago that he was the father of a toddler son, he’d have laughed in their face. Now, he was seeking custody and eager to turn his life upside down in order to have Jamie and Sierra included in it.

“I’m doing well enough. Being the only privately owned rodeo arena in Mustang Valley helps.” Clay took a sip of his club soda, his throat inexplicably dry. Why was he suddenly nervous to tell his father about Jamie? “Sierra Powell is back in Mustang Valley.”

“Been a while.” Bud flinched ever so slightly. Someone who didn’t know him might not have noticed.

Another time, he’d have tried to analyze that flinch. Tonight, he didn’t care. “She brought her son with her.
Our
son.”

Bud’s brows rose until they disappeared beneath the unruly hank of silver hair covering his forehead. “You and her have a son? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I just found out myself. His name is Jamie. He’s fifteen months old.”

Bud chuckled. “I can’t believe she let you within ten feet of her, much less into her bed.”

Delivered with a humorous tone and coming from a friend, the comment could have been taken as a joke. From Bud, it smacked of an insult, and Clay’s fingers involuntarily clenched.

“The Powells and I have made our peace,” he said.

“Not then, you hadn’t. When did you two hook up? Before or after Jessica?”

After? Did his father actually think Clay had violated his marriage vows? “Before. When Jessica and I were on the outs.”

He didn’t and wouldn’t tell his father how devastated he’d been over Jessica dumping him—again—and how good Sierra had made him feel.

“What are you going to do?” Bud asked.

“Take care of Jamie. Sierra, too. I’ve filed a custody suit.”

“What do you mean by ‘take care of’?”

Be the best father I can, like you used to be,
he almost said. “Provide financially and emotionally. Share the parenting with Sierra.”

“Marry her?”

Clay thought carefully before answering. It wasn’t as if the idea hadn’t occurred to him. But having recently survived six months of a marriage made in hell, he wasn’t ready or willing to take the plunge so soon.

“No, we’re not getting married.” Frankly, he doubted she’d accept even if he proposed.

“What’s the matter with you?” Bud’s voice rose loud enough to generate stares from nearby tables. “Didn’t I raise you right?”

“You did,” Clay answered evenly. “And I promise you my son will never go without.”

“He deserves the Duvall name.”

“He’ll have it. My attorney is filing an amended birth certificate.”

“That girl deserves your name, too.”

“That girl?” Could his father not bring himself to say Sierra?

“Don’t get smart with me.”

A bar was hardly the place to engage his father in an argument, but Clay did it anyway. “How can you sit there and question whether you raised me right, when you stole six hundred acres out from under the Powells?”

“I did no such thing.” Bud leaned forward, bringing his face closer to Clay’s. “I gave them the money so Louise could have a heart transplant. A lot of money. It wasn’t my fault she died. Or that Wayne lost interest in the ranch.”

“You promised to give the Powells first chance to buy back the land.”

“I did.”

“That’s a lie.”

His father’s face flushed a deep red. “I’ve done a lot of bad things that I’m not proud of, but lying isn’t one of them.”

“Wayne would have moved heaven and earth to keep his land.”

“Maybe you don’t know him as well as you think.”

“What are you saying exactly?”

Some of the fight went out of his father, and he toyed absently with the happy-hour menu. “Wayne couldn’t come up with the payment. Not even a partial payment. I extended the loan. Interest free. By then, he’d run their operation into the ground.”

Clay reeled. He hadn’t heard this version before. “Why are you only telling me now? Why hasn’t Wayne said anything?”

“The man lost his wife. His business was hanging on by a thread. He wasn’t about to admit he’d failed, and I wasn’t about to publicly shame him.”

“You should have gone to Gavin and Ethan. Given them the chance to repay the loan.”

“Wayne asked me not to.”

“Couldn’t you have waited one more year?”

For the first time, Bud Duvall looked beaten and a decade older than his fifty-eight years. “Shoot, I’d have waited twenty years. A hundred years. Wayne was the best friend I ever had.”

“So why ruin him?”

“You weren’t even twenty when your mom and I split. There are just some things a kid shouldn’t have to know about his parents.”

“I’m not a kid anymore, Dad.”

“You aren’t, that’s a fact.” Bud tossed the happy-hour menu aside as if it irritated him. “One day your mother told me she was unhappy. The next day, she packed up, moved out and filed for divorce.”

That was what Clay remembered, but he’d always assumed there was more to the story.

“Did you sell the Powells’ land to try to get her back?”

“She tell you that?”

“No, I’m making a leap.”

Bud chuckled mirthlessly. “Well, leap in another direction, pal. She forced me to sell the land because it was the only way I could raise enough revenue to meet her demands. She insisted on her half of our marital assets and refused to wait, even when I begged her.”

Chapter Seven

Clay aimed his truck in the direction of Scottsdale and his mother’s townhouse. Activating his Bluetooth, he pressed the speed dial. The call went right to voice mail, and he remembered her mentioning something about going to the theater with a friend. She held season tickets to ASU Gammage, had purchased them soon after she and his father divorced, the Director’s Club, with preferred seating, backstage tours and VIP-lounge access.

Had she bought the tickets with money from the divorce? The Powells’ money?

The possibility made Clay’s stomach churn. For years he’d believed his father to be the bad guy. A traitor. A betrayer. According to his father, those descriptors belonged to his mother.

How screwed-up could one family be?

He drove to Powell Ranch instead of his mother’s home. Ethan was probably in bed, or would be soon, which is where Clay should be. Like his friend, he had an early morning.

His mind, however, was racing too fast to let his body sleep. He needed to talk to someone, and Ethan, as his best friend, was that someone. He’d get Clay out of bed if circumstances were reversed.

Ethan’s truck wasn’t in sight when Clay rumbled slowly through the ranch and toward the converted apartment beside the stables. No lights came on in the main house, though the back-porch light shone for several seconds, then went off. Late-night visitors to the ranch weren’t uncommon. People boarding their horses often came by at odd hours to administer medicine or change wound dressings, check on pregnant mares and, on really cold nights, ensure their horses were properly blanketed.

Parking in front of Ethan’s apartment, Clay climbed the porch steps and knocked on the door. No one answered. He scanned the immediate area and noticed what he should have in the first place. Ethan’s truck wasn’t here. Clay was tempted to wait for Ethan. Naw, he was probably with Caitlin at her condo in Mustang Valley. That was where Clay would be staying if he was about to be married in a few days.

Married.

He could still hear his father asking him if he was going to do the right thing and give Sierra his name.

Clay tested the doorknob and found it locked. He couldn’t even hide out till morning. About to turn around and go…he had no clue where…he heard the crunch of footsteps on hard ground.

“What are you doing here?”

He spun at the sound of Sierra’s voice. She stood half in the shadows, half in the glow of a silver moon hanging high in the sky.

“Hey.” Guilt ate at him—for what
both
his parents had done to her family. He swallowed before continuing. “I wanted to talk to Ethan.”

“He’s not here.”

“So I see. What you are doing out so late?”

“One of us is having trouble sleeping.” She stepped out of the shadows, and Clay saw that she was balancing Jamie on her hip. He had one fat fist shoved in his mouth and was making whiny, snuffling sounds.

“What’s wrong?” Clay came off the porch, his worried glance taking in his son from ski-cap-bundled head to footed-pajama toe.

“He’s teething. I was talking to an old friend from work earlier, and she suggested taking him outside. She said sometimes a change in scenery helps.”

“With the pain?”

“It’s more of a distraction tactic.”

Clay could use one of those. Maybe he should stroll around the ranch, too. He liked that idea, but only if Sierra went with him.

“Hey, you okay?”

He caught her studying him. “Me? Yeah.”

“You look upset.”

He shoved his hands in his jacket pockets. “I am. A little. Had a talk with my dad tonight. Told him about Jamie.”

“Is he mad?”

He heard the accusation in her voice. “Not at all.”

Clay was the one who was mad. Even now, as he recalled the conversation at the Saddle Up, he realized his father hadn’t asked one thing about his grandson or—this hurt the worst—if he could see Jamie.

Then again, Clay and his father had gotten off track. Way off track. And Clay had abruptly stormed out.

Damn it, none of this made any sense. His mother wouldn’t have forced his father to sell off the Powells’ land. She loved them.

Jamie whimpered.

“Can I hold him?” Clay asked.

“Um, sure.”

He’d anticipated an argument.

Jamie went willingly into Clay’s arms and quieted almost immediately. “Got a sore tooth, pal?” He tucked Jamie’s head into the crook of his neck and closed his eyes. Not everything in life had come easy. Love for his son did. Very easy. “I know how painful that is. Had some bum teeth myself a few years back.”

“Wisdom teeth?” Sierra asked.

“Impacted wisdom teeth. They pulled all four, which explains why I’m not very wise.”

She smiled at his lame joke, the most relaxed he’d seen her since she’d arrived home. With moonlight turning her hair the color of quicksilver, she looked prettier than ever.

The pull of attraction he’d felt earlier when they were touring the casita didn’t just return with a vengeance. It hit him like a sledgehammer to the gut.

“I’m sorry you argued with your dad.”

“It wasn’t an argument as much as a heated discussion.”

“About Jamie?” Her tone became defensive again.

“My mom. Their divorce. The sale of your land.” Without thinking about it, Clay had started swaying slowly, and Jamie’s eyes drifted closed. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.” Sierra reached out and stroked Jamie’s back.

Clay stared at her hand, recalling when she’d similarly stoked his back, offering comfort when he’d been heartsick over losing Jessica. It was the first time he’d noticed Sierra as someone other than his best friend’s little sister.

His body stirred, reacting to the memory.

They’d made a baby together. But they’d also shared more than simple physical intimacy. He’d opened his heart to her, and she to him. If only he’d been smarter, seen that he and Jessica weren’t cut out for each other.

He probably shouldn’t have had those wisdom teeth removed, impacted or not.

“What did your dad tell you when mine sold off your land?”

The corners of her mouth turned down. “Why do you ask?”

“Did he mention my dad giving him an opportunity to buy back the land before he sold it?”

Her gaze clouded in confusion, then darkened. “I’m sure your father didn’t give him any opportunity whatsoever.”

Clay took that as a no.

If, as his father claimed, Wayne Powell had the chance to repay the loan and keep his land, why not tell his children?

Would Clay? Honestly, no. He’d have too much pride to admit to his children he couldn’t come up with the money.

Had he really been wrong about his father all these years? His father had said he was protecting Wayne. But at the expense of his relationship with his son? It didn’t make sense, not to Clay.

“Why are you asking?”

He considered telling Sierra the specifics of his conversation with his father, then decided against it. His dad could be lying. Clay needed to talk to his mother first. Even then, Wayne should be the person to tell his children the truth.

“My father mentioned something I hadn’t heard before.”

“What something?”

“It’s probably nothing.” He gazed down at his son who was soundly sleeping in his arms. When had that happened?

Longing squeezed his heart. This, a child of his own, was what he’d wanted, what he’d almost had and lost.

Only he’d always imagined having a wife along with his child. A wife he loved to distraction.

His gaze shifted to Sierra, slightly rumpled and yet incredibly appealing. She might have been his wife if things had worked out differently.

“Want me to take him?” she whispered.

“I’ll carry him to the house if that’s okay.”

“Sure.” She gazed adoringly at Jamie.

Clay almost felt like a heel insisting on taking Jamie half the time.

Not enough to alter his stand, however. Then again, he might be more inclined if Sierra ever looked at him the way she did their son.

They walked in silence to the house, entering through the kitchen door. Expecting Sierra to take Jamie from him, he was surprised when she said, “Do you want to put him to bed?”

They tiptoed down the hall and to the guest bedroom. The entire household appeared to be retired for the evening. In the room, Sierra switched on the nightlight. A ceramic teddy bear in pajamas sitting astride a calico pony provided enough illumination for Clay to see the portable crib on the floor beside the bed.

Together, he and Sierra gently removed Jamie’s outerwear. Clay lowered Jamie into the crib, laying him on his back. His limp arms fell to his sides, and his mouth moved noiselessly.

“Is he talking in his sleep?”

Sierra smiled fondly. “Babies do that.” She laid his jacket on the chair beside the dresser. “Once he’s down for the night, he usually doesn’t wake up till morning.”

“Is it always so hard to get him to sleep?”

“Not usually.”

“You tired?” Clay only now observed the shadows beneath her eyes and the lack of color in her cheeks.

“Some. You, too?”

“It’s been a tough week.”

“Yeah, it has.”

They stood for a moment, Clay thinking what it would be like to hold her in his arms and have her rest her cheek on his jacket as Jamie had done.

Talk about making a complicated situation more complicated.

“I should get going.”

“I’ll walk you to the door.”

He knew every inch of the Powells’ home, having spent endless hours there growing up. He could have found his way to the kitchen door with a triple blindfold.

Even so, he accepted Sierra’s offer.

On the patio, he turned to bid her good-night.

She stood, nervously rubbing her palms on her pants.

“Something the matter?”

“I, um, was going to have my attorney contact you tomorrow.”

“About the custody agreement?”

“Yes. And the living arrangements.” She exhaled, clearly struggling with what to say.

She was turning him down.

Disappointment arrowed through him. Up until this moment, he hadn’t realized how much he wanted her and Jamie to live with him. Granted, in the beginning, it had been a ploy to be close to his son. But that had changed.

“Take another day or two before you say no. It would be good for Jamie to have—”

“I’m accepting your offer.”

His jaw went slack. “You are?”

“And the job, too.”

“Wow.”

“If you still want me to work for you.”

“I do.” He grinned. Stupidly, he was certain. “That’s great.”

“There are going to be some conditions.”

“Naturally.” His grin widened. “I figured as much.”

“I’ll move in and start work once we’ve ironed out the agreement.”

He grabbed her by the waist and hugged her fiercely. Sierra and Jamie were coming to live with him! “Thank you.”

She let out a startled gasp but didn’t withdraw.

“I’m really glad you said yes.” He breathed her in. She smelled as good as he remembered.

“Me, too.” She raised her arms, hesitated, then slid them around his neck, returning his hug.

Yes, nice. Really nice.

Wait, no. He reminded himself this was a friendly hug between two people whose only concern was the well-being of their son.

His body had other ideas, as did his hands, which skimmed her back over the material of her too-bulky, too-thick sweater.

He couldn’t stop himself. Her curves were too perfect, her scent too intoxicating, her skin like satin.

Her skin?

When had his hand moved to caress her cheek?

“Tell me no.” He bent his head, his lips seeking hers.

She didn’t. She couldn’t, not with him kissing her.

* * *

B
IG
,
BIG
MISTAKE
. Huge, like the size of an entire mountain range.

Exactly the kind of mistake that had gotten Sierra into trouble before.

She knew she should hightail it out of there as fast as her legs could carry her.

But she didn’t move.

It wasn’t Clay’s arms circling her that prevented her escape. No, no. Or the sensation of his mouth, firm and warm and with just enough pressure to send a delicious thrill winding through her. A small part of her had wanted this kiss since she’d glimpsed him standing outside of her brother’s apartment. Possibly since the first day she came home.

His lips moved her over hers, nibbling, teasing, coaxing a response from her. He got it, all right.

She sighed and leaned into him, anticipating the moment when he’d deepen the kiss. Soothe the needy ache inside her.