TRACE DECIDED TO GO OUT with the guys on the daily run. He’d spent two days at the office, and that alone would have been enough to drive him to the range. But with Eric back and invading his space, he needed to put some physical distance between him and his brother before, well, before things turned physical.
It had been a good long time since he’d hit his brother. But, by God, all it would take was one foul look from Eric and he’d be hard-pressed not to haul off and slug him one.
Overall, the long, hot day proved to ease the tension from his shoulders. But as one concern dropped back, another stepped forward.
As the run wound up and they made their way back to the corral, Trace found his gaze trailing to Jo yet again.
He told himself to be cautious. Anyone watching would surely pick up on the connection between them. But Trace couldn’t help himself. He saw her dark hair and thought of the shadows of her body last night as he lay over her, bringing her to orgasm under the open night sky. He watched her squeeze her thighs against her mare now, and remembered how she had tightened her legs against his shoulders. He caught a glimpse of her full mouth and recalled kissing her again and again and again.
And if he looked at her flat abdomen a little too often, he told himself it was only natural.
When the herd was halfway into the pen for the night, he aimed Crockett toward her.
“We need to talk,” he muttered.
She readjusted her gloves. “Why?”
He gave her a knowing look. “We need to talk about last night and…”
She lifted a brow.
“And…you know.”
An inscrutable expression transformed her face, making it impossible for him to tell what she was thinking. “No, I’m sorry, Trace, I don’t know. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’d better be getting to the stables before someone sees you talking to me.”
She pulled her horse to the right and trotted off.
Damn.
“Boss, something wrong?” Vern asked, coming up beside him.
“Huh?” He shook his head. “No. No, nothing’s wrong.” He squeezed his knees against Crockett’s sides. “Let’s put these puppies to bed and grab some grub.”
AS HE FEARED, by the time Trace pulled up to the stables, Jo was long gone, out on the first truck back to the bunkhouses. Maybe he’d hike out there sometime later, when no one was paying attention to his whereabouts.
Trace dismounted and handed Crockett off to a stable hand, giving the horse a pat for a job well done. He was looking forward to a long, cold shower and seeing what Alma had fixed for his dinner.
Unfortunately, he’d forgotten that he no longer had the house to himself.
He took off his gloves and then his hat and stopped midway between the house and the stables. A moving truck was backed up to the front porch, and four men were hoisting a table inside, a golden retriever barking at them and running circles around their legs. Trace walked over to where Scout was lying in the grass nearby, watching the action with wary eyes.
“What’s the matter, boy? Somebody invading your territory?” The dog whined and looked up at him. “Trust me, I know just how you feel.”
He scratched the old dog behind the ears and sighed. Scout mimicked his sigh with a yawn.
Trace gave a weak grin and patted him on the back before getting up. Dragging his heels out here wasn’t going to change anything. Thankfully, it looked as if the moving men were finishing up, so at least he wouldn’t be required to lift anything after a long day on the range.
“Evening,” he said to the men as he passed them on the steps.
He entered the house, immediately spotting Sara Harris, the woman Eric had brought home with him six months ago for a visit. Seeing the pretty blonde wasn’t a surprise. But seeing the size of her stomach was.
“Holy shit.”
Sara turned around to face him at the same time Eric came in from the kitchen carrying a bucket of beer for the movers.
Eric’s expression darkened. He hadn’t forgotten about their exchange of words this morning any more than Trace had. But he went through the motions as he put the bucket down and placed his hands on Sara’s shoulders from behind.
“You remember my brother, Sara.”
Trace maneuvered around the stacked boxes and furniture and shifted his hat from his right hand to his left. “Nice to see you again,” he said, extending his hand.
Sara took it in both of hers, her smile wide and warm.
Trace couldn’t help himself. He stared at her stomach.
Eric’s right hand dropped from her shoulder to her burgeoning belly, as if protecting the child within. “I didn’t think this was the kind of news to share on the phone,” he said.
Sara tilted her head to look at Eric. “You mean you didn’t tell Trace? I’m six months along. When did you think it would be a good idea? After Agnes is born?”
Agnes. Their mother’s name. Trace braced himself against the hall table.
Eric frowned. “I suppose I should mention that we’re also planning on getting married. Right here on the ranch, in two months.”
“Congratulations.”
Trace couldn’t help himself. Within the blink of an eye, everything that was familiar to him, everything that was his life, had changed. He started to go upstairs, but banged his knee on a box before he found a clear path.
“I’m sorry about the mess,” Sara called after him. “I promise I’ll have everything put away by tomorrow.”
Trace mumbled something, but had no idea what.
JO COULDN’T SLEEP. Shocker. She’d hoped that Trace would come out tonight, but so far he hadn’t shown. And the sun had set over an hour ago.
She flopped back on her bed, fully clothed, staring at the ceiling. She checked her cell again. Nothing. Sighing, she blindly put the phone back on the nightstand and then lay spread-eagled, concentrating on her breathing.
We need to talk.
His words echoed in her mind over and over again, accompanying the image of his handsome face drawn into concerned lines.
How had this happened? How had casual sex evolved into something far more serious?
Spewing out a few choice profanities, she pushed herself from the bed, grabbed her keys and left the room, trying to decide which would help her more, a nice long walk or a ride into town in her pickup.
She decided a walk would help put her thoughts to right. Or at least exhaust her to the point where she could fall asleep.
“Jo!” Jackson and Milford called out from down the line of bunkhouses. “Have a beer?”
“Sorry, guys. I think I’ll pass.”
They tried to convince her to change her mind, but as soon as she set out in the direction of the stables, they returned to whatever conversation they’d been having.
She remembered the first time she’d gone to the ranch where her father had worked. She’d been six years old, and while he’d told her on several occasions that he’d taken her with him when she was younger, her first real memory was that spring day some twenty years ago.
“Let me ride, Daddy! Let me ride.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Jo. You don’t want to go back home to your mother smelling like horse.”
“But I want to, Daddy! Please, just this once. I promise, I’ll never ask again.”
He’d looked at her thoughtfully and then finally gave up, pretty much the way he always did whenever she wanted something badly enough.
“Okay, darlin’. Come here and let me lift you up.”
Of course, he’d planned for her to have a harmless canter around the pen on the large steed. What he hadn’t known was that she was digging her heels into the horse’s sides and pulling on his mane, trying to egg him into a run.
And run he finally did.
She’d giggled, giddy with power, and held on for dear life as the horse bolted away from her father and headed for the back pasture through an open gate.
She wasn’t sure how it had happened, but within seconds she found herself lying flat on her back in a blanket of bluebonnets, holding her arm. Her dad had come running to her, scared within an inch of his life.
“JoEllen Sue, are you all right?” He’d looked down at her, trying to take a physical inventory, unsure if he should move her. “Oh, please be okay. Your mother would never forgive me if anything happened to you.”
She’d stared up into his worried face, waiting for her breath to return. The instant it did, she jumped right back up and said, “Let me go again, Daddy!”
She’d broken her arm in three places that day. And her mother had been livid. But from that moment on, a ranch was where she wanted to be. And if her father hoped to have any control over her growing interest in horses, he was forced to indulge her—without her mother being any the wiser—so long as Jo didn’t break any more bones.
She tugged off the rubber band that held her ponytail, and braided her hair as she walked, unsure why she was thinking about her youth now. Maybe because the possibility that she’d soon have her own daughter or son was more of a reality than it had ever been. Or maybe because she couldn’t imagine bringing a child into her life. A life filled with bunkhouses and hard days on the range, and no place to call home.
Of course, there were options. But since she’d never been in this position before, she hadn’t given any of them much thought.
She swallowed, feeling a sudden lump in her throat. Hopefully, she wouldn’t have to, either.
She reached the stables and entered through the side door, since the large barn doors were closed. It always soothed her nerves, the smell of hay and horses. Scout walked over to her, his limp seeming more pronounced. She bent down to greet him.
“How you doin’, boy?”
He panted as she petted him, and then went to the door and whined.
“What is it? You wanna go outside?” She held open the barrier and he walked out, his tail wagging in thanks.
Jo closed the door again. Reaching into a bag of apples, she took one out and walked down the aisle between the stalls. Horses whinnied, poking their heads out to see who the visitor was. She went to her regular mare first, stroking her soft nose.
“You want a treat, Chelsea?” She slid her pocketknife out of her jeans and cut the apple into quarters, then held one out in her palm. The mare sniffed and then snuffled it up with her prickly lips, chomping away.
The Wildewood ranch was one of the cleanest operations Jo had seen in her years working the circuit before and after her stint in the military. The stalls were kept fresh and well stocked, the horses healthy. The cattle were well cared for and their pens covered with new straw the instant they were taken out on their daily run. And business with the hands was always on the up-and-up. Which made it difficult to get hired on full time, because there was so much competition. Hands from hundreds of miles around rolled into town every spring to put in their résumés and try to prove they had the stuff it took to be a permanent part of the ranch.
Jo had driven from a smaller ranch closer to her hometown of Beaumont to check out Wildewood. And immediately found she’d like to stay on if they’d have her.
Her hand slowed now as she picked up a brush and began stroking Chelsea’s long, glossy neck. Of course, that was well before she’d succumbed to her desire for the ranch owner.
Now?
Well, she was going to have to let the present go until she could see what the future held.
There was a sound down the aisle, one that wasn’t made by an animal.
Jo looked in that direction. Could it be Trace? Had he seen her walk to the stables, and sneaked out to talk to her?
She resumed brushing the mare, unsure if she wanted him there or not. She was worried enough for her own reasons, and she didn’t need to add Trace’s worries to the mix.
Another sound came, from the other side of the aisle.
“Is anyone there?” she called out.
No answer.
The fine hairs stood up on the back of her neck.
Jo had long ago learned to respect her body’s reaction to an immediate threat. Her internal radar had served her well in Iraq and Afghanistan. Now that she was stateside, she didn’t expect it to do anything less.
She hooked the brush back into its holder as Chelsea whinnied in disappointment. Either that, or the mare had also picked up on a threat.
Jo reached for the knife in her pocket…but didn’t have the chance to pull it out before something was dropped over her head and tightened around her neck, making it virtually impossible to breathe…