When It's Right (9 page)

Like I'm trying to remember to do with you, sweetheart.

“Blake, does your mother still make those nice quilts?” Dee asked.

“She made me one for Christmas. It's on my bed at the house. Why?”

“I thought I might give her a call and see if she could help me put something together for Justin's room. Maybe I'll invite your parents over for supper one night.”

Blake didn't miss the wheels turning in Dee's sharp mind. She wanted to enlist his mother's help in setting him up with Gillian. The two of them liked to conspire to find him a wife. He'd be thirty in a ­couple of years, and maybe it was time to settle down. Well, he didn't need their help, or want it, but that wouldn't stop them from trying. The idea of Gillian meeting his parents didn't put him off in the least. In fact, he welcomed the idea. If Gillian saw him with his family, she might actually begin to trust him.

“Call her, you know she'd love it. Dad will love it, too. Anything to keep her busy.”

“Dee, Grandma.” The name stumbled off her lips. “You don't have to go to any trouble or contact Blake's mother.”

Justin saw Dee's watery eyes and frowned. “Why is she sad now?”

Dee wiped the tears from her eyes and tried not to make Gillian uncomfortable. “Oh, I'm just being sentimental. Your sister was sweet enough to call me ‘Grandma,' and it just made my heart so full it spilled out my eyes.”

“Your heart's full of tears?”

“No, honey. My heart is full of love.”

Gillian fidgeted, looking for an escape. This was getting to be too much for her. Blake sympathized, despite the fact this was good for her.

“Um, I'm going up to get dressed. Ah, Grandma, if you wouldn't mind doing my hair when I come back down, I'd appreciate it.”

“Of course, dear. No problem. Then we'll go on our tour of the ranch. Maybe we'll let Justin feed some apples to the horses.”

“Cool!” Justin yelled.

Blake waited for Gillian to leave the room before he looked back to a smiling Dee. “She's trying.”

“You have to try,” Justin confirmed, just like his sister taught him. He happily stuffed more pancake into his mouth and chewed. He'd settled into the family.

Blake hoped Gillian did the same. Soon. Maybe she needed it more than Justin. She'd suffered at her father's hands far longer and in a more brutal way. She needed to be surrounded by family and love. She deserved it and a hell of a lot more. Blake vowed she'd live a happy life from now on. He'd make sure of it.

 

Chapter 11

G
illian hobbled down the stairs after getting dressed and stood in the kitchen doorway, watching Blake play with Justin. Even when he wasn't trying, he got to her. She felt another brick in the wall around her heart fall and hit the others he'd already knocked loose with his quiet determination to get her to trust him. Well, she couldn't exactly say she did or didn't. So far, he hadn't earned it, but he hadn't done anything to make her not trust him either. The jury was still out.

The smile came easily when Blake held Justin's small hands in his large ones. Justin walked up Blake's legs and tumbled over backward, falling to his feet, then Blake let go of his hands when he landed safely. Each time, Justin laughed with such delight that her heart melted a little more. His laugh and smile got her through more days than she could count. Thrilled, Justin jumped up and yelled, “Again.” Ever patient, Blake let him go again and again.

Dee wasn't in the kitchen. Judging by the dish towel slung over Blake's shoulder, he'd done the breakfast dishes. She appreciated a man who kept things clean and pitched in to help when needed. Her father's idea of helping out around the house had been to throw his garbage and beer bottles in the general direction of the trashcan. Too drunk and stoned, he missed by a yard, but still called out, “Swoosh,” and laughed his ass off for no reason. She often felt more like a mother and a maid than a daughter who should have had no more worries than her next high school chemistry pop quiz and whether a particular boy liked her. She should have spent her days out with friends and her nights sneaking off with a boyfriend. Instead, she'd raised a boy to the age of six and tried her hardest to keep the evil that lived in their home at bay.

She'd done everything she could under the threat that her father would take Justin away from her if she tried to run away with her brother. Disappear. Then Justin would have been at his mercy. She'd wanted to take Justin away, but with her meager resources and the beating she'd suffered the one time she'd tried, she'd hesitated every time she'd thought to do it again. She'd feared that if it didn't go exactly to plan, she'd lose Justin, either to her father or the system. So she'd saved her pennies, every cent she could spare, and she'd planned, hoping one day she'd have the resources to take him and not end up living on the streets and in shelters, where social ser­vices was sure to take him from her.

But none of that mattered now. Look at him. Happy. Safe.

Blake smiled and laughed with Justin, and her heart tripped. This was what a man, a real man, looked like. This was what a father looked like. She'd told them last night to stop. She didn't have any defenses for kindness. Blake seemed to be the one who got past all her barricades the easiest. She wondered how he'd managed to do it in a matter of hours by being nothing more than himself.

She'd made it through her high school years without becoming another statistic of teen promiscuity and pregnancy. She'd managed to survive those tumultuous years without becoming like her mother. As she looked at Blake now, the muscles in his strong arms cording as he pulled Justin up for another flip, a door in her heart crept open. Part of a long-­forgotten dream caught the first rays of light she'd let shine in since she was a little girl dreaming of being a princess in a faraway land. She wanted to slam it shut again, afraid he'd see those silly, girlish dreams, pat her on the head, and send her on her way so he could find a woman more his age and a lot less trouble and damaged than her. Someone further away from college than high school. Older, wiser, more experienced.

She'd dreamed a lot as a young girl, but she'd put silly things like that away the night her mother handed her Justin, bundled in his blanket, and left with her father, never to return. Yes, she'd put away silly things like dreaming that one day she'd find a good man who knew how to be kind and gentle, a man who knew how to smile and laugh without turning it into something ugly.

Blake made that door creak open, and she mentally put both hands on it and shoved it shut again. She had a brother to raise and enough baggage to fill the back of her pickup truck, pulling the added trailer full of garbage that went with it.

“Is Dee around? She said she'd wash my hair.”

Blake glanced over, dismayed to see the sadness in her eyes before everything in her face went blank again. “She's on the phone with my mother, plotting a surprise for this one.” He flipped Justin over again, not missing the way Gillian's eyes locked onto his arms as his muscles bunched to pull Justin up and flip him over. “Enough, buddy. Go upstairs and get dressed. Put on your shoes, and we'll go down to the stable to see my babies.”

“What babies?”

“The horses.” He took the towel from his shoulder and used it to swat at Justin's behind. Justin laughed and dodged the snap of the towel. “Go. Hurry up. The day's wastin' away.”

Justin grabbed Gillian's leg and gave her a squeeze before heading upstairs.

She called after him, “I put your clothes out on your bed.”

Blake walked toward her, trying to gauge how close she'd let him get this time before she backed away. He stopped three feet from her. She didn't move, but kept her wary gaze on him. Progress. “Ready to wash your hair?”

Undecided, Gillian eyed him and the sink and checked the other room over her shoulder. “Is Dee coming back?”

“She and my mother will probably be on the phone a while. There aren't a lot of women who work on the ranches, so once those two connect, it'll be a while for them to get their gossip all told. I'll wash your hair.” He made the suggestion matter-­of-­fact, hoping she didn't run away. He was doing his best not to scare her off, when all he wanted to do was hug her and ease some of the pain and hurt she couldn't hide.

“You don't have to do that. I can wait. I can do it one-­handed in the shower.”

She bit her lip, still unsure about him. If she felt the pull half as much as he did, then her system had gone haywire along with his. Hard to tell if she kept her distance solely because of what she'd been through, or because of the attraction snapping between them like electricity across two live wires.

“I'm sure washing your hair that way is fine in a pinch, but I can do the job better. You'll feel better with your hair clean. I'll need you to show me where the stitches are so I don't hit them.”

He gave her a minute to get used to the idea, then went to the cupboard and pulled down a large juice pitcher. He set it on the counter. She walked over and stood next to him at the big farmhouse sink. He didn't speak, just turned on the tap and waited for the water to warm up. He took the bottle of shampoo from her and set it on the counter beside him. She held her hair up. He helped her drape the towel around her back and shoulders.

“There're three lines of stitches. They should be pretty healed, so it won't matter if you touch them.”

Blake shut off the tap. “Show me.” He kept his tone casual. He didn't want her thinking they repulsed him. They wouldn't. He just wanted her to be comfortable with him. He wanted to rub his hand over her back and reassure her. He didn't understand his natural tendency and need to care for and tend her, but like every other strange feeling he'd had since he met her, he went with it.

She drew her hair away from her neck and the back of her head to show him the cut that disappeared into her hair. He helped her brush away some of the strands to see how far up her head it went. His finger brushed her hand, and she immediately jumped back and put both hands up to ward him off.

“Easy, now. I was just trying to see how long the cut is.” He leaned back against the counter and crossed his legs at the ankle. He wanted her to see that he had all the time in the world. “Listen to me. Hear me on this. I will never,
ever
hurt you.”

“I'm sorry. It's just . . .”

“No sorry needed. There's nothing to explain. It's no big deal, Gillian. Really.”

He waited for her to come back to him. It took her a few seconds, testing him to see if he'd lose his patience. Not going to happen. Used to working with scared and wild horses, he'd learned to wait, because the payoff mattered. She came back to stand beside him and pulled her hair back again. This time, when his hands brushed her hair away, she jumped and caught her breath, but didn't back away.

He worked quickly and carefully to wash her amazing mass of hair. She didn't move or say anything, but her whole body trembled. He hoped from the effort it took her to bend over in her condition and not because he frightened her. He had to pile the long, thick strands on her head to wash it all without soaking her. The smell of flowers and citrus filled the kitchen and his senses.

It took several pitchers of water to rinse all the dark golden hair. When he was done, he took the towel from her shoulders and put it over her head. He gently rubbed her scalp dry and pulled the hair through the towel from her crown to the tips. Satisfied, he turned her toward him and used his fingers to comb the strands from her face.

His gaze met hers and held. Everything inside him went still. His heart pounded. He kept his hands on her neck, his fingers tangled in her wet hair. He let the moment stretch so they could both settle into the vibrations between them.

Gillian's eyes held a touch of fear. That was as natural for Gillian as breathing. Would she ever get past what her father did to her? Given time and her innate strength and perseverance, yes, she'd learn to be happy. Here on the ranch, where he worked and lived and promised to take care of her—­not date her.

Off limits, man. Get your head straight.

“Come on. I want to see the horses.” Justin broke the strange tension.

Blake and Gillian shot apart from each other, like teenagers caught doing something they shouldn't. Dee stood behind Justin, smirking.

Gillian needed to get away from Blake. He did things to her system that shouldn't happen after only meeting him yesterday. Her fingers flexed, and she balled them up so that she wouldn't reach out and touch him. She had a real need to put her hands on his chest and see if it was as hard and strong as it looked. She wanted to slide her hands over it and around his big shoulders and feel his arms come around her and hold her. Only trouble with that, she feared if he did, she would break into a million tiny pieces. Better to keep her guard up and escape this strange pull that sucked her into him every time he was near.

“I'll just go up and brush out my hair. I'll meet you down at the barn.”

“You sure you don't need any help?” Blake asked, all casual and kind.

He stayed in front of her, blocking her escape. They'd shared something elemental a moment ago. This was the closest she'd let him get to her, and he didn't seem inclined to give her any space. Not anymore. A dangerous man. Maybe more dangerous than her father, because he touched her heart, and it just wasn't up for another beating. This man had the power to break her, where her father never had.

“I can do it. You've done enough. Thank you.” Yep, another dose of pride down her gullet. She appreciated the help but resented the need for it. She hated not being able to do for herself.

“You're welcome. No trouble at all. We can do it again tomorrow.”

“I'm sure you have better things to do than wash my hair.”

“Not really. I've got all kinds of time for you, Gillian. Get used to it.” He grabbed Justin under the arms and hauled him up onto his massive shoulders. “Let's go, buddy. I'll introduce you to a horse. Have you ever seen a horse up close?”

“No. I've seen a sea lion at the wharf. Gillian took me. They bark like dogs. How come there isn't a dog here? There's lots of room, and you got lots of animals. Couldn't I have a dog?” Justin asked as Blake walked out the door with him.

“That boy has a one-­track mind.” Dee smiled.

“About the dog. This is your house and ranch, and if you and Grandpa don't want a dog here, I'll divert Justin's attention to something else. He'll probably get interested in the horses and forget all about the dog.”

“Gillian, Bud and I would get Justin a dog today to make him happy and feel more at home here.”

“You would?”

“Sure. This is your home, and a dog would be a great pet for Justin. But last night Bud and I also discussed the fact that you've been Justin's mother his whole life and it wouldn't be right for us to interfere in the way you raise him. You've done a fine job so far, and there's no reason for us to take over. That isn't to say we don't want to help you. We do. We'd just like you to know that we'll follow your lead with Justin. If you think it's time for him to have a dog, and you want to get him one, we'll help you get one for him. We want you to be at home here, Gillian.”

Shocked, Gillian didn't know what to say. They'd discussed the best way to help her and Justin, not take over her life. After she'd arrived and they'd discovered they were taking on Justin as well as her, she'd expected them to discuss how to get rid of them, or how they'd take care of Justin without her.

“Although we weren't expecting him, we're so happy to have you both. Bud has spent a lot of years wishing things with Erin could have been different. He carries a lot of guilt, especially about the way Ron treated the two of you. He wants to make up for not helping you sooner.”

Gillian's suspicions must have shown on her face, prompting Dee to go on. “He's not offering you a place to stay out of obligation. He wants you here. We want you here. You're family. You were right to hope this was a good place to bring Justin. He'll grow up with family, the ranch, the friends he'll make at school. There are good ­people in this place. ­People like Blake.”

Gillian narrowed her eyes, trying not to give anything away about how she felt about Blake. Truth be told, she wasn't sure about him, or the strange way he made her feel.