Baby's First Homecoming (9 page)

At the sound of Clay’s voice behind her, Sierra cringed. Of all the people to witness her scene with Cassie, Clay had to be the one. “You heard?”

“Most of it.”

Damn.

“Come on,” he said.

Not waiting for an answer, he took her by the hand. She accompanied him reluctantly through the living room and outside to the front courtyard. It was nearly empty. Most of the guests were congregating inside or on the back patio where tables had been set up. Clay and Sierra sat in chairs near the makeshift altar, far enough away so no one could hear their conversation.

“Cassie’s a good kid,” he began.

“I know that.”

“She’s very protective of Gavin. Of their relationship. She resents her mother for running off to Connecticut and not letting her visit Gavin until last summer.”

Sierra stiffened. Clay was lecturing her, and she didn’t like it. “You and Cassie have a lot of long talks?”

“Me and Gavin. He’s the one Cassie has the long talks with.”

Of course they did. Sierra was instantly contrite. “I’m not like her mother.”

Clay, thankfully, didn’t state the obvious—which was that Sierra was exactly like Cassie’s mother.

No wonder the girl was angry at her and didn’t trust her.

There was a lot of that going around.

“If you give Cassie a chance,” Clay continued, “you’ll find a nice kid beneath that tomboy exterior.”

“I like Cassie. And I’ll talk to her. Tomorrow, when things aren’t so hectic.”

“Good. Now, about your furniture.”

“Please, Clay. Not today.”

“You’re right. I guess I’m like Cassie, I don’t want you to leave.”

She gazed out at the valley below, remembering when she was Cassie’s age and riding horses along the river with her brothers.

“I apologize for being prickly. Here and earlier during the photographs. I don’t react too well to being pressured.”

“Maybe that’s something we can discuss during counseling.”

She groaned. “Don’t remind me.”

They’d scheduled the first of their weekly sessions for this coming Wednesday.

“I admit, I can be a little pushy.”

She wished his crooked smile wasn’t so appealing. “A little?”

“What do you say we work with the counselor on our character defects?”

Against her will, she smiled. “There’s still my dad and brothers. They’re every bit as pushy as you.”

“Afraid that’s your problem to deal with.”

She sighed. “Oh, joy.”

“We’re going to make this work, Sierra. You’ll see.”

He oozed confidence. She, on the other hand, wasn’t sure about anything.

Meeting his gaze, she inhaled sharply. That same longing she’d seen on his face during the ceremony was back.

No man had ever looked at her like that before, unless she counted the night two years ago when she and Clay went from being friends to lovers in the span of a single heartbeat.

Suddenly nervous, she straightened. “I really should check on Jamie.”

Clay didn’t restrain her. Not physically. It was his eyes that cemented her in place, quickened her pulse, set her senses awhirl.

He raised his fingers to brush a strand of hair from her face.

Was he going to kiss her again?

Bad idea. They shouldn’t.

She braced herself. Gave in. Gave up. What good would it do to fight the inevitable?

All at once, cool air struck her in the face. Clay had pulled back, was starting to rise.

Anger bloomed inside—at herself. What a fool she’d been. How often would he hurt her before she learned?

She stood so quickly her chair wobbled.

“Sierra, it’s not—”

“Forget it.”

“There you are!” Caitlin’s maid of honor came up the aisle toward them, her sensual smile targeting Clay.

“Hey, Trista,” Clay said.

Trista! That was the reason Clay hadn’t kissed Sierra.

Relief filled her.

Relief that she’d been stopped in the nick of time from making another mistake. No other reason, she told herself.

“Sierra,” Trista cooed. “I haven’t had a chance to tell you how pretty you look. That dress really brings out the color in your cheeks.”

Her dress? Hardly. Clay and their near-miss kiss was responsible.

“I came to tell you they’re getting ready to pour the champagne and cut the cake. Clay, you have to make your toast.”

“I’ll join you shortly.” Sierra exited the courtyard ahead of Clay and Trista, glad for an excuse to get away.

Smiling and saying hello to the guests she passed, she hastened to the bedroom. This was the longest she’d been away from Jamie, and she was proud of her progress.

Easing the door open, she stepped quietly inside the room and whispered, “Hey, handsome. You awake?”

She froze, staring at the empty portable crib. A strangled cry—her own—filled her ears.

Jamie was missing!

Oh, my God, oh, my God, oh, my God!
Where was Jamie?

Terror assailed Sierra, shattering her composure, icing her blood. Grabbing at the sides of her head, she whirled, frantically scouring every corner of the room on the chance he’d managed to escape the crib and toddled off. Ripping the quilt aside, she fell to her knees and looked under the bed.

Nothing!

The closet was also empty.

Someone had taken him.
Stolen
him! Right out from his crib.

She tried to breathe but her lungs had collapsed. What was she thinking? She should never have left him alone for even a second.

Bolting from the room, she ran straight into Clay.

He grabbed her by the shoulders and steadied her. “Are you all right? I thought I heard something.”

“Jamie’s missing!”

“Missing?”

“He’s not in his crib.” She began to blubber. “I put him down for his nap, and now someone’s taken him.”

“Calm down, honey.”

“I can’t.” She tried to shake free of his grasp. “I have to find him. Before something happens.”

“You look inside, I’ll look outside.”

His calm demeanor outraged her. Did he always have to be in such freakin’ control?

“No! I’ll look outside.” Sierra couldn’t explain it, but she was convinced whoever had Jamie had fled the house and was already driving off.

Flinging aside Clay’s hand, she tore through the house and out the kitchen door.

Clay called after her.

She ignored him. There were so many people. Hundreds, all of them talking and drinking and mingling on the patio. How easy it would be for someone to hide Jamie inside a coat or jacket and stroll nonchalantly away with him.

“Careful now, slow down,” a man warned.

“Did you lose something?”

Yes, her son.

It occurred to her to stop and inform the guests of what was happening rather than plowing over them in her haste. Possibly enlist their aid. That would take too much time, however. The kidnapper was getting farther and farther away with each second.

Cars were everywhere. In the parking area behind the barn. Beside the stables. Next to the house. Her heart pounded inside her chest, hard enough to fracture her ribs. Where to start looking?

She heard an engine roar to life and ran in that direction. The heel of her shoe caught in a pothole, causing her to stumble. Regaining her balance, she surged ahead. Whoever had Jamie, they were not leaving this ranch. If necessary, she’d plant herself directly in their path and not move.

Then she saw it, a vehicle pulling out from behind the mare motel!

“Stop, stop,” she hollered.

The vehicle came into view. Not a passenger car but a tractor with a feed wagon hooked to it. One of the ranch hands was getting ready to hay the horses.

She ground to a halt and blinked, her vision clouded from perspiration—or was it tears?

She was too late. Jamie was gone. Taken from her again.

The ground beneath her feet seemed to shift as if disrupted by tremors. A wave of dizziness left her faint and disoriented.

“Sierra!” Someone called to her from what sounded like a great distance away. “Sierra!”

She answered, except her voice came out a strangled sob.

What should she do?

Call the police. Yes, right away. Before too much time passed. And obtain a list of the guests from her family.

“Sierra!” The voice drew closer.

Fighting another debilitating wave of dizziness, she tried to bring the figure sprinting toward her into focus. It was Clay, and he was wearing an enormous smile.

A smile! There was only one reason for it.

Her knees collapsed.

“We found him.” He caught her as the last of her strength deserted her. “He’s in the house.”

“Thank God,” she said and burst into tears.

He wrapped his arm around her waist, and she leaned heavily on him, appreciating his strength. They walked her back to the house. Sierra would have preferred to run but her bones had yet to solidify.

“Where was he?” she asked feebly.

“My mother has him.”

“Your mother! Why?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t ask. I was just so glad to find him.”

Well, Sierra was going to ask. And Blythe had better have a damn good reason for putting Sierra through hell.

She and Clay went directly to the living room. Blythe sat in a wingback chair, Jamie on her lap. Several people—strangers, all of them—surrounded her and bent over Jamie, speaking to him in baby talk. He fussed and writhed and made unhappy faces. While getting better, he was still leery of people he didn’t know.

Sierra broke away from Clay. The second Jamie saw her, he opened his arms to her. “Ma, ma, ma.”

Her throat closed. This was the first time he’d called her Mama. He must have been just as scared as she was.

“Hi.” Blythe greeted her warmly. “I hope you don’t mind—”

Sierra lifted Jamie off Blythe’s lap and clutched him to her chest. She wouldn’t let him out of her sight ever again, no matter what.

“How could you take him and not tell me?” she demanded, her voice cracking.

Blythe’s jaw dropped. “I’m…sorry. I didn’t think—”

“Obviously, you didn’t.” Sierra stroked Jamie’s back, as much to reassure him as herself.

“Sierra,” Clay said. “It’s okay.”

“No, it isn’t. She had no right to take him.”

Twin spots of color appeared on Blythe’s cheeks. “I meant no harm,” she said stiffly. “I just peeked in your room to show Lil and Beverly how cute he is, and he was awake, standing up in the crib. I brought him out here. I didn’t think you’d mind.”

“I do mind. Very much.”

The half dozen pairs of eyes that had been fastened on Blythe switched to Sierra. She could feel the disapproval, the silent consensus that she was making a huge deal out of nothing.

She probably shouldn’t have snapped at Blythe in front of her friends. But Blythe shouldn’t have taken Jamie from his crib without telling Sierra.

“I apologize for losing my temper,” she said. “I was upset to find Jamie gone.”

“All you had to do, my dear, was look around.”

Sierra bristled at Blythe’s condescending tone. “I did look around. I didn’t find him.”

“Perhaps I should go give my respects to the brides and grooms.” Blythe rose from the chair, tall and slim and dignified.

In comparison, Sierra felt small, and not just in stature.

“Mom, wait.” Clay reached for his mother, then said to Sierra, “This is just a misunderstanding. Let’s not blow it out of proportion. Not today. Jamie’s safe. No harm, no foul.”

A misunderstanding? Sierra thought it was more than that.

Clay was right, however, about her brothers’ wedding not being the time or place to discuss it. She would take the matter up later with him, and he could talk privately to his mother.

“Excuse me, please.” Blythe slid past Clay, a thin smile on her face.

“It’s all right,” one of her friends soothed while casting Sierra an accusatory glance. “I’ll come with you.”

Fine, blame her. Sierra didn’t care.

Okay, she did care. She didn’t want her family’s friends thinking badly of her.

“Mom,” Clay said, his voice low but firm. “Sierra has a right to be upset. Don’t be angry with her.”

Blythe halted. “I’m not angry.”

“Maybe
angry
isn’t the word.”

“She overreacted. I’m the boy’s grandmother. Can’t I pick up my own grandson from his crib when he’s awake?”

“No one is saying you can’t pick up Jamie.” The look Clay gave Sierra was kind, not condoning. “She’s been through a lot lately. More than you know. And if you did know, you wouldn’t think she overreacted.”