Protecting Their Child (7 page)

“You sit down here at the table.” Juliet tied her apron and paused. “Want coffee or hot chocolate?”

“Your famous chocolate, please.”

“My grandmother said everything could be fixed with a good cup of cocoa and, after living so many years in this desolate backcountry, I tend to agree with her. Of course, I make Alan a cup every afternoon.” She removed milk from the fridge and turned to the stove. “Not instant, mind you. I hate instant. Don’t you? Well, even if you preferred it, I’d have to make it on the stove because I don’t have any. Instant, that is. I don’t like it so I don’t buy it.”

“How is Mr. Burke?”

“Staying busy. A rancher’s work is never done. He rests a lot, though. Takes things slower.” Juliet wiped the corner of her eye with the back of her hand as she gathered more chocolate ingredients.

Tears? So maybe the rumor she’d heard about his remission was true and he wasn’t doing well at all. How terrible for Juliet and Nick.

Hearing Juliet’s voice reminded her how much she missed her father being around the house. This was exactly how he talked when he made his enchiladas. The one dish he excelled at and had perfected. He explained everything he did, each and every time.

Then it was her turn to cook and he’d chatted instructions nonstop until the pan was in the oven and the cheese bubbled to perfection. She’d asked him why when she was about seventeen. Being a smart-assed teenager, she’d patiently explained to him that she’d heard the recitation once a month her entire life and could repeat it by heart.

Of course, the next batch was the most horrible enchiladas they’d ever eaten because she’d had to prepare them on her own. After that, they cooked enchiladas together with her father talking her through every family secret along the way.

“Kate?” Cord was seated at the table with her. He nodded toward Juliet.

“Hmm?” She’d been so lost in thought, or so dang tired, she hadn’t heard him come in the door.

“Toast or biscuits?” Juliet asked, looking concerned. “Are you too tired to eat, dear?”

“Oh, sorry. No, I’m starving. Food first, please.”

“Toast, Mrs. Burke.”

“Then I’ll have to make biscuits for dinner. Now that I put the thought of them in my head it’s the only way to get them out.”

“I’m going to check in with Mac’s men. Find out if they saw anything.” Cord stood, scooting the chair across the wooden floor that was older than everyone in the room added together.

“You go right ahead, dear. I’ll have everything ready to throw in the pan when you get back. I’m just going to fry up some venison sausage.”

The uniform pants didn’t fit him as snugly as they had three years ago. He’d lost weight and gained a lot of muscle even over the past five months. It had felt really good on that couch, backed against his chest. Having his warm breath caress the back of her neck had caused some additional tingling that had kept her awake long past him falling asleep.

Before the shooting, his occasional light snores would wake her and she would shake him to tell him to go back asleep. Last night, she couldn’t close her eyes until he was relaxed and breathing deeply.

Kate didn’t want to be rude, but watching her ex-husband walk to the bunkhouse comforted her and she really couldn’t concentrate too much on what Juliet was saying. She listened to the stories, remembering how many times she’d sat at this same table.

“Do you remember the first time we met, dear?”

“Yes, ma’am. Mom brought me over after you bought the place from Mac. She was the self-appointed, one-woman welcoming committee to Valentine.”

“That’s right. She brought us her homemade bread. I was so impressed she showed me how to make it on the spot. Said she got tired of running to the store when your brother used all the bread to feed the baby chicks. Did she ever break him of that?”

“Not until he stopped feeding the chickens as one of his chores.” She laughed at the memory. “Angering mom to get out of the chore may have been the only reason he used the bread. Davy still hates feeding chickens.”

She wiped her hands on her ruffled apron and held them out to Kate. A serious look consumed her normally cheery face.

Kate held on to Juliet’s strong embrace. “I miss her.”

“I do, too. I only bring it up because I want you to know if you need anything or need to talk to anyone, I’m here.” Juliet looked directly at her stomach. “When I was pregnant with Nick...well, I missed my mother more at that time than I normally did.”

“So you know about the baby?” Kate hadn’t removed her jacket, uncertain if she wanted to share her news with anyone. She shrugged out of the work coat and let Juliet hang it on the back door hook. But it was time to stop avoiding what people would say. Maybe it was because Cord knew now.

“David told me. I hope you don’t mind.” She set the toast and homemade jam on the table.

“Not really. It’s not like it’s a secret. Everyone will know soon enough.” She caressed the swell that would soon make her barrel-size.

“I may have complained when we moved here about this being a desolate country, but it’s become my home. All of our friends have become family. So if I can help, I want to be there for you. And for your mom.”

Kate was touched. She’d been so isolated on the ranch. She hadn’t really spoken much with her father since he’d gone to her brother’s. She hadn’t wanted to bother him with ranch details. And she especially hadn’t wanted to hear the worry in his voice.

“I know this is butting in, but you don’t have anyone to push their nose in your business.” She smiled. “You should tell that man how you really feel.”

“Cord? He knows.”

“He doesn’t. He’s all confused and worried. It’s as plain as the whiskers on his face.”

“I’m not the one who has him turning in circles. It’s Serna and not knowing.
That’s
why he’s so worried.”

Juliet released her hand and picked up the corner of her apron to move the hot pan back to the burner. She began turning the bacon. “You can trust me on this Kathleen Danver McCrea, that man does not think you love him.”

“But...I don’t.”
I can’t.

“I had my hope of you falling in love with Nick and I think for a little while, so did he. But those days have long passed. I never thought twice about it after Cord came into your life. You look at him, well, just like your daddy looked at your mama.”

Chapter Eight

They were stuck at Nick’s overnight but Kate wanted to be on her way. It was hard to sit still. Hard to relax when Serna and his men were out there waiting. The unknown had never appealed to her. She liked family. Loved working the ranch. And had discovered she loved running it even more.

One of the many reasons she’d refused to run away before Serna had been released. She couldn’t run—with the exception of away from Cord. But that was different.

She wrapped herself in a towel reluctantly, leaving her extended soak. Clothes presented a problem, but Nick’s mom had loaned her some pajamas and all Kate really wanted was to slide into the comfy queen-size bed, curl up and sleep until the thunderstorm was over. Then it would be safe to drive without the threat of falling rocks or flash floods.

She pulled the drawstring tight on the bottoms and heard a soft knock on her door that was already swinging open. Cord leaned in the doorway holding a blanket and pillow. Hat pushed back on his head, still dressed in his uniform, he hadn’t cleaned up a bit since they’d arrived at Nick’s ranch.

“What have you been doing?”

“Hate to ask this, Kate. I know you’re tired. Can you let me use your shower for a couple of minutes?” Her ex-husband was already unbuttoning his shirt, assuming she’d say yes.

“And what was wrong with the main bath Mrs. Burke told you to use?”

“Didn’t have time.”

“Too many secret phone calls trying to get us out of here sooner?” She crossed her arms over her braless breasts that he kept glancing down at. “What’s wrong with the hall shower?”

“Actually, I was sitting outside your door, waiting. Probably nothing wrong with that shower. Better if I’m here.”

Had he become a delusional paranoid? “Really? You think someone’s going to attack me in the guest bedroom?”

He shrugged his shoulders free of the drab beige color and tossed it on the back of the chair.

“Just stay awake five minutes. Then I’ll take care of watching over things.” His hands went to his belt buckle.

“Don’t you do that, Cordell.” She waved her hands. His eyes dropped to her breasts again. “Oh, go on. But hurry.”

Cord laughed at her embarrassment heading to the bathroom. She hadn’t heard him laugh in so long, turning a bright red was worth it. She checked the mirror just to verify that, yes, she had changed to a
sunburned palomino
as Cord had nicknamed her.

The shower spray came on. She grabbed a throw blanket to cover her shoulders and shut the bathroom door.
Just like old times.

“Ouch.” She shook her thumb where the dried cactus had lodged. It was irritating more than painful, something that had happened more than once in her youth. She could see the thorn just under the skin and she needed a needle or tweezers. Each time her thumb scraped something it brought her back to pulling the trigger....

She wanted the reminder gone.

Creeping like a thief, she opened the bath door. Cord had his back to her, and she could see the white suds from the soap still clinging to the gorgeous muscles. She didn’t blame them for wanting to try. Ignoring the body on the other side of the curtain, she slowly pulled open the medicine cabinet. No luck. Then the drawer. Yea, pin cushion.

“You don’t have to be so quiet. You aren’t disturbing me.” The water shut off. Cord shook his head and drew the curtain to one side. He pointed past her. “Want to hand me that towel? Or I could stand here and let you have a longer look-see.”

“You...that was fast.”

“Towel?”

“Oh, yeah, sorry.”

Her
ex-
husband reached around her to grab the matching towel to the one wrapped around her hair.

What was wrong with her? She’d seen a naked Cord many, many times. Her nipples tightened as did many other places in her body. “I, um, needed a needle.”

Wow, thank goodness he wrapped the lower half of his body. That just left the desire to sleuth off those beads of water from his shoulders and chest. If she didn’t watch it, she’d be breathing hard soon. She was just tired. They both were.

“You done with this?” He tugged the towel from her hair and hung it around his neck, using the ends to absorb some of the drops. “What happened? Want me to take a look?”

Without waiting for permission, he brought her thumb closer to his sharp brown eyes. He didn’t release her hand when she tugged.

“I can do it.”

“I’m sure you can, but it would be easier and quicker if I helped. Then you could hit the hay faster.” He took the needle from the cushion. “This is in there sort of deep. When did you get it?”

She didn’t want to say it aloud. She’d killed a man.

“Humph.”

He could tell. He’d always been able to read her, especially when something was wrong. If only he could talk through a problem as well as he could spot one.

“Ouch!” She jerked her thumb away from where he’d stabbed it.

“Don’t be a baby. You know this is how you get a thorn free.”

“It hurts.”

“Of course it hurts. You have a piece of cactus stuck in your thumb.” He swiped his hands on the towel hanging around his neck and adjusted it to cover most of the skin.

The sweet strawberry-patterned towel blocked her from seeing most of the muscles he’d developed in the five months they’d been apart. “You mashing and prodding won’t help.”

“Let me see it.” He drew her hand closer to his eyes again. But he didn’t look; he had them closed. He wrapped his lips around her thumb and sucked.

Oh, wow.

“Cord McCrea, stop that. What do you think you’re doing?”

“Just softening up the skin so it won’t hurt as much.”

“It’s plenty soft.”

“Yeah, I remember.”

“Cord, I’m—we can’t—”

“I’m not.” He teasingly smiled at her.

“Yes, you are.” She jerked her hand to behind her back, protecting more than just her thumb from him. She didn’t need much of an imagination to know what was going on under that towel at his hips. She’d experienced it and her muscle memory was playing havoc with her restraint. Her body was desperately ready to see if she remembered anything about sex.

He rolled the needle between his fingers and held out his left palm. “I promise to behave. Now give me your thumb.”

Reluctantly, she placed her thumb in his care again. But she didn’t know if she was reluctant because he might break his promise or that he might keep it.

Chapter Nine

“They’re here.”

With all the hands called in for the search and now back at the ranch, it was difficult to find a place to make a very private phone call.

“What do you mean? Where’s ‘here’?” Serna’s voice showed his frustration.

“At the ranch. They’re cleaning up.”

Together. Same bedroom. Good. Serna’s punishment will mean more if they’re together. Divorced or not.

“How long? Did they say where they’ve been? My men haven’t checked in from this morning.”

Hadn’t the man learned anything? McCrea was good. Too good. That’s why he had to be taken out before he was reinstalled to the task force. Something that would have already been taken care of if it weren’t for Serna’s personal vendetta. The man should have been killed while he couldn’t walk and defend himself.

“Knowing McCrea, you should send more men to the cabin. The others are probably dead.” He pulled the phone away from his ear until the string of curses ceased, then continued, “We need that chopper. And he hasn’t said anything about their activities.”

“I want them dead.”

“I know what you want and that’s your problem. I’ve kept my end of the bargain for over four years. I’m taking a big risk calling you with so many people around.”

“Your end will come much sooner if you don’t deliver them to me.”

He bit his tongue instead of explaining why it was useless to threaten him. Serna would be gone along with everyone else.

“The storm’s going to delay everything in the operation. You have time to get the chopper and get the McCreas before they leave.”

He disconnected the line. The storm actually made his part to take down Serna, frame the Danvers and succeed much easier. Of course he’d deliver the McCreas. They’d ridden their horses right where he’d hoped.

Serna’s men were lax and took too much for granted. The ones on the mountain were also probably dead.

Dance with the devil and all that.

* * *

“G
OOD
GRIEF
,
JUST
be still and let me finish.”

“Ow.” She stuck the pad of her thumb in her mouth, her pink nail a slightly darker shade than her lips.

“There. All done. I see you’re still having your nails done.” Cord looked at her toes, perfectly manicured, just like her fingertips.

No matter how much she worked on the ranch, she didn’t miss her appointment for a mani-pedi. It was almost a ritual for her. He’d teased but never asked her to stop, because he liked it.

“You always made fun of my nails.”

He did like it. Liked that she took time for herself. She deserved it.

So tell her.
That shrink voice nagged him. His sessions were full of reasons he’d pushed people away. And every session ended with a question about Kate. The same question nagging him to answer right now.

He’d avoided thinking about why he hadn’t contacted her since the divorce. Then during the last session his shrink had thrown out this thought-provoking moment:
You know you can’t move forward until you face the past. And Kate is your past, Cord. If you expect change, you can’t continue to walk through life. Letting her go is necessary and it’s going to be painful.

“What is it?” she asked. “You
do
think my nails are silly. Well, I don’t care. When all’s said and done, I still like to feel nice.” She pushed at his chest, trying to move past him in the little bathroom.

His hands fell to her middle, holding her in place. “It’s not that. I was thinking about something else. Kate, I— Holy cow, what was that?” His hand was on the side of her belly. “I thought we just ate. That was a heck of a stomach gurgle.”

“Cord, I think that...that’s the baby.” She put her hand over his, shifting his touch more to the center. “There. Feel that.”

Their eyes met and all he could manage was a nod. He’d just
thought
the baby was real before. The depth of emotion welling inside him was about to erupt like the volcano that formed the mountains around them. He couldn’t label them or put words to them, but he knew they were there.

“Is that the first time she’s moved?” he asked.

She. Daughter.

That eruption knocked the barricade he’d stashed his numb heart behind. He’d thought he’d hidden it deep under a cover of recovery. The tears welled in Kate’s eyes, her lower lip rolled between her teeth and she swayed backward.

They’d shared something special, something only they could understand. And he’d screwed it up. Twisted it with a memory of pain.

Say it. Tell her you’re sorry for being an insensitive jerk.

He could fall to his knees and beg for forgiveness. Or he could ignore another moment she seemed to be waiting for words he didn’t have. How long had the minute lasted? Sixty seconds that time? Or three years of hurt?

The amazing woman sighed—a new one he didn’t know. Then she squeezed his hands. Move on? It’s okay? God, he wished he was better at this.

“It really is amazing. I’m glad you were here. Why do you think the baby’s a...a girl?” She stumbled over
girl
but recovered. “My bet’s on a boy. The McCreas always have a son to pass the Ranger badge to. Don’t they?”

Was it wrong not to want a boy? There couldn’t be a replacement, but he wanted that little baby girl. He wanted to rock her in the antique crib Kate had found. She’d talked the dealer in Fredericksburg to lower his price and had scraped every spare dollar they had together for the purchase. The yellow-and-brown baby comforter was still hanging on the side.

He clasped Kate’s free hand, bringing it to his lips. “That was quite a wallop of a kick.”

“Or just a flip. I think she’s done now.” She moved away from him. “We need some rest.”

“Right. As soon as the storm passes, we gotta move.” He stepped back, wanting to pull the woman carrying his child into his arms. He didn’t know what to think or assume. Didn’t know why feeling his child move made him want to make wild love to her. “You go lie down.”

Kate walked away, not looking pregnant at all from behind. But he liked the pregnancy. It looked as good on her as the nail polish. Okay, not a perfect comparison for such a beautiful woman. He knew what the crazy thoughts firing through his mind meant. The same reason he couldn’t discuss Kate with his shrink. The same reason he hadn’t accepted Kate’s phone calls or texts or letters or heard her name without aching for the part of him that she’d completed.

She’s not your wife anymore.
She’d divorced him the morning after they’d made their baby. He knew that. He deserved that.

He caught himself from falling with a hand on the counter. His legs were tired, but it was the scar that ached like a deep, wrenching wound. No physical reason that it should. The doctor said there wasn’t a reason for it. But there were three strong reasons: Shane, Sarah and a baby girl who never drew her first breath.

He’d almost forgotten to cover the scar when he’d left the shower. Hopefully, Kate hadn’t noticed since he hadn’t faced her straight on. He pressed his palm into the scar, trying to ease the hurt.

“Thanks for the hospitality, Juliet. I can do the laundry. Just point me in the right direction,” Kate said from the other room.

He stood straight, surprised at Kate’s voice. He looked at his red-rimmed eyes and turned on the cold water to splash his face.

“I won’t hear of it,” Mrs. Burke answered. “You both get some rest.”

That’s what happened when he let emotions get caught in a loop in his head. His training dropped to nil. He hadn’t heard the door open.
Pull yourself together.
He sucked it up, stowed the distracting thoughts in an imaginary box and tucked the towel at his hips tighter.

Get Kate to safety. First priority. Only priority.

She was curled on top of the bed with a light blanket covering her. He wasn’t looking forward to the small desk chair in the corner where he planned on spending the afternoon.

“You going to lie down in the other room?”

“Go to sleep,” he directed. “I’m staying right here.”

“In the chair?”

“Yeah. I don’t want to leave you alone.”

“Then come lie down.”

“That’s not a good idea.” Just the thought of her spooning that pretty bottom into him got his blood flowing faster.

“Good or bad, I’ll sleep sounder if you’re next to me and you’ll sleep better if your back is relaxed.”

He lacked the ability to say no. As much as he wanted those emotions to stay under lock and key...they weren’t. He was just too tired and sore. He needed the comfort of stretching out and relaxing if he were going to fulfill his promise.

But he wasn’t lying there naked. He’d already visited Burke’s bedroom and lifted some jeans and a T-shirt.

“What are you doing?” Kate asked on a gasp.

He turned around, stretching a leg into the stiff jeans. “Getting dressed.”

She was leaning on one elbow. Her eyes were huge and her mouth a perfect O.

“You’ve seen all this before, babe.”

Tears dropped to her checks. She was seriously crying. What the h...? He zipped the loose pants and rushed to sit on the edge of the bed.

“I didn’t mean to upset you. I didn’t think about getting dressed. I mean. I didn’t think you’d get mad about it. I sort of didn’t think about it at all.”

“Shh. You didn’t do anything. It’s just that...I’ve never seen this.” She caressed the bullet scar in his chest with the tip of her finger, then down and around his side, leaning behind him. “Or this.”

“Man, I’m sorry.” He tried to stand to get the shirt but Kate held him where he was.

No one besides the doctor and nurse had ever seen let alone touched his back since the shooting. Certain, methodical hands he handled without a second thought. Their praise at how well he’d healed always left him hollow. He didn’t feel healed. Not by a long shot.

Whisper-soft strokes soothed him in a way he didn’t know existed. Kate’s fingers barely skimmed the puckered and stitched scars he had memorized in his mind. The places he couldn’t physically feel were worse. The touch disappeared, reminding him of so many times he’d yearned for it.

Too emotionally raw to take any more, he jumped up and grabbed his shirt.

She didn’t beg him to come back, just stretched her hand out in a gesture for him to return. And he did.

For the first time since his partner had been murdered, he needed to trust those around him to keep watch. He drew the drapes to darken the room more than the storm already had and tried not to bounce the bed too much as he lay down.

He put his arms under his head on the pillow and stared at the ceiling, careful not to touch Kate. But she had other ideas. She scooted that luscious bottom next to his hip.

A familiar hand touched his side, tugging, wanting him to do what he feared the most.
Snuggle.
He turned, meticulously keeping his hands to himself. Kate laced her fingers with his and placed his palm on the baby.

“I know it’s not forever and I hope you’ll forgive me for asking it of you. But right now, this minute,” she whispered, “I want to dream of our family.”

God help me, but I’m going to let you.