After three wondrous days, Libby’s sexy stint of sleeping in the master suite with Matt was over. Her mom and Chance would be here this afternoon.
She turned toward Matt. He stood beside an oak armoire, looking as solid and rugged as the furniture. They were in the guest room where she would be staying.
“You seem nervous,” he said.
“I’m starting to get worried again that my mom might figure us out.”
“We’re going to be careful, Libby.”
“I know.” She glanced at the bed and its sunburst-patterned quilt. It was a lovely room, with all sorts of creature comforts. But she was going to miss sleeping with Matt. She gestured to the adjoining bath. “I staged the bathroom so it looks like I got ready there this morning. I left my toothbrush and toothpaste out. I lined up my fragrances on the counter, too, and left the cap off the perfume I used today.”
He came toward her and sniffed her skin. “Do you really think your mom is going to notice something like that?”
“I’m just trying to be thorough.”
He jumped onto the bed and pulled her down with him. “I think you’re being paranoid.”
She squealed when he yanked up her T-shirt and tickled her ribs. She laughed and tried to push him away. “We’re making a disaster out of this bed.”
“So it’ll look like you did a crappy job of making it this morning.”
“Are you sure it’s not going to look like some big, sexy cowboy ravished me on it?”
“I’m not ravishing you. But I can if you want me to.”
“You need to behave.” He’d already done a bang-up job of ravishing her every night since she’d moved in with him. He’d had his way with her this morning, too, hauling her into the shower with him. Shower sex had become their thing. Along with kitchen floor sex. And every other kind of sex they could think of.
To keep the tickling at bay, she whopped him with a pillow. He wrestled the pillow away, set it aside and kissed her, soft and slow, his lips tender against hers. But that was as far as it went: a warm, romantic kiss.
She got up and righted her T-shirt. He was still reclining on the bed. She wanted to slip back into his arms, but she refrained. She needed to control her urges for him.
“I’m really glad I’m going to meet your son,” he said.
His interest in Chance made her heart beat faster. She had a soft spot when it came to her child. “He’s a chatterbox, so don’t be surprised if he talks your ear off.”
“That’s okay.” He smiled at her for a breathless moment and climbed off the bed. “His mama talks my ear off sometimes, too.”
“I do not.” She fluffed the pillow that she’d used to smack him, and together they smoothed the quilt, him on one side, her on the other.
“I’m just trying to lighten your mood.”
“I know.” Her nerves remained on edge. Libby wasn’t used to hiding things from her family. She’d dated Becker openly before she married him. But that was different than what she was doing with Matt. “I just have a lot on my mind.”
Matt went quiet. Then he said, “I hope Chance likes the room I chose for him. When the twins were here, I offered each of them their own room, but they wanted to stay together. They were inseparable that way. They brought their bunk beds with them. But all of that is gone now.”
“Chance has bunk beds in his room, for when a friend or cousin spends the night. Children that age enjoy pairing up.”
“What’s your apartment like?” Curiosity colored his voice. There was a searching look in his eyes, too.
“We’re on the first floor of a triplex. It’s not walkable to the beach, but there’s a bus we can take.”
“Can’t you drive to the beach?”
“Yes, but parking is a nightmare.” She thought about how modest her place was. “Becker and I were hoping to buy a house someday, but it wasn’t in our budget.”
“What about the book advance? Can you use it as a down payment on a condo or something?”
“I wish I could, but property is ridiculously expensive in my area, and I need to live on the advance. For now, that’s my only income. I used to supplement my writing with temp jobs. Hopefully I’ll get more book deals in the future and won’t have to do that again.”
“I’m sure you will. You’re one of the most ambitious women I’ve ever known. But you’re sweet and homey, too.”
“Thank you.” That meant a lot coming from him. “I’m doing what I can to be a single mom and have a successful career, too.”
“I hope you’re able to have your own house someday. At the beach or wherever you want it to be.”
For a heart-jarring second, she envisioned living here with him. Clearly, she was losing her marbles; those little suckers were rolling right out of her head. The other day she’d laid down the law about not falling in love, and today she was having cozy thoughts about moving in with him?
Libby needed to get a hold of her emotions, a tight, tight hold on them, especially before Chance and her mom got here.
* * *
Chance Mitchell Penn was a whirlwind, a fast-talking, toy-slinging tyke with bright blue eyes. It was only the first day, and he was following Matt all over the house, yapping up a storm. Right off the bat, Matt learned that Chance hated shampooing his hair. In fact, he wore it in a buzz cut to make washing it easier. He didn’t like taking baths, either, or going to bed early.
Libby’s son had an opinion on everything: steamed vegetables were gross, but raw ones were fun and snappy; girls acted silly when they giggled with their friends, and boys acted stupid when they got into fights. Matt had never been so amused. He adored this kid already. Of course he was trying to keep it in perspective and not get too attached, the way he’d done with the twins when he’d first met them. But damn, Chance was tough to resist.
Libby’s mother, Debra, was far more reserved. She didn’t run off at the mouth like Chance. Nor did she dress in flashy clothes like Libby. Although her hair was blond, she sported a short, simple, conservative do. But in spite of their differences, the love between mother and daughter was apparent. He suspected that Libby’s father was a decent guy, too. She’d been raised in a normal household. No country star dad or mistress mom.
Not that Matt was blaming his mother. He loved her as much as Libby obviously loved her mom. But he’d always longed for the kind of family Libby had.
“Can I see my room again?” Chance asked Matt.
“If you want to.” Matt had already showed it to him twice, but maybe three times would be the charm.
The boy bounced on his heels. “You come, too, Mom.” He grabbed Libby’s hand, then glanced over at his grandmother, who was seated in a living room recliner, reading the ranch brochure. “You can stay there, Nana.”
Debra glanced up. “Why, thanks for that.”
“No prob’em,” Chance said.
Matt caught Debra’s eye, and she sent him a vacation-weary smile. She looked ready for a nap. Traveling with a rambunctious six-year-old had obviously worn her out. But at least Chance was astute enough to know when his grandmother was tired and needed a break.
Chance’s room offered a queen-size bed and a picture window with a view of the hills. It also had a big flat-screen TV. All the guest rooms did. Earlier Libby had set the parental controls, which had given Matt a familiar feeling. When the twins first moved in, Sandy had done that, as well.
“This is cool,” Chance said. “Can I jump on the bed?”
Matt started to say why not? but Libby cut him off and said, “Get real,” to her son. That obviously meant no.
The boy shrugged and shifted his feet, rocking back and forth. He’d yet to be still. He gazed up at the ceiling. A second later, he asked Matt, “Did you know my dad is in heaven?”
More déjà vu. The twins used to talk about how their daddy was in heaven, too. “Yes, your mother told me.”
Chance kept rocking. “He’s in an angel pot at our house.”
Matt assumed he was referring to the urn that contained Becker’s ashes. He dared a glance at Libby. But she was looking at her son.
“He flies around at night and watches over us,” Chance said. “That’s what angels who live in pots do. They’re sort of like genies, only they don’t give you wishes. But if they did, I would wish for my dad to be here with me.”
Matt nodded as if he understood. And in his own mixed-up way, he did. He’d lived through something like this before. But as similar as it seemed, it wasn’t exactly the same. He wasn’t repeating the mistakes he’d made with Sandy. He wasn’t going to fall in love with Libby or marry her or compete with her late husband’s memory.
“Wanna see some pictures of my dad?” Chance asked.
“Sure. I’d like to see your father.” Matt wasn’t going to deny the boy.
“Okay, but he wasn’t an angel back then. He was just a person. People don’t become angels till they go to heaven.” Chance nudged Libby. “Go get your phone so I can show him the pictures.”
She put a hand on her son’s shoulder, but her gaze was on Matt. She smiled, oh so softly, at him. A thank-you, he thought, for indulging her child.
She left the room, and Chance glanced at the bed, as if he was considering jumping on it while she was gone. Or maybe he was just planning on doing that later, when no one was around.
Libby returned, and the three of them sat on the edge of the bed, with Chance in the middle. As he scrolled through the photographs, he narrated each one. He moved quickly; it was clear that he had them memorized.
Becker was smiling in every picture. He had a happy, relaxed air about him, with a tanned complexion, a neatly trimmed goatee and hair that was long on top and clipped close on the sides, the same medium-brown shade as his son’s.
“You look like your dad,” Matt said to Chance. They had comparable features, except for the eyes. Those had definitely come from Libby.
“Check this out.” Chance stopped at a wedding photo of his parents. “See how big my mom’s belly is? That’s me in there.”
Matt studied the picture. Libby looked young and beautiful, a pregnant bride in her sparkling white gown and spiffy white boots.
He leaned over and said to her, “That’s how I imagined you when you described your wedding to me.”
“It was the happiest day of my life.” She put her arm around Chance. “Along with the day he was born.”
Chance scrolled to another photo, an image of his father holding him on his lap. Becker was grinning like a loon.
Libby said, “That’s the last picture that was taken of them together.”
Matt didn’t know how to respond. Even chatty Chance had gone quiet. By now, he could feel the boy staring at him.
Then the kid asked, “Are you a real cowboy?”
The change of topic threw Matt off-kilter. He was still looking at the last-ever picture of Chance and his dad.
“I told you he was,” Libby said, chiming in with an answer.
“Yeah, but is he a real one?”
“Darned right, I am,” Matt said. “When I was your age, I was competing in junior rodeos.”
Chance’s mouth dropped open. “You were doing that when you were small, like me?”
“I used to ride and rope my little butt off.” Matt remembered the joy it gave him in those early years. Without it, he would have been lost. “My mom took me to my events.”
Chance was still slack-jawed in wonder. “She must be a great mom.”
“Yeah, she is.” Not a conventional one, but a great one. “She lives here on the ranch with her husband. They’re going to come by later in the week for a barbecue.”
The kid looked over at Libby. “Can I learn to become a rodeo cowboy?”
She ran her hand over his buzz cut. “How about if you just pretend to be one for now?”
“That’s not the same as doing it.” He frowned at the phone in his hand. Somewhere in the midst of their conversation, the screen had gone black. He touched it, bringing the picture of him and Becker back up. “I bet my dad would let me do it if he was here.”
Libby sighed. She seemed sad and alone, as widowed as a woman could be. Particularly when she said, “I take you on pony rides at the big park in LA.”
Chance pouted. “That’s baby stuff.”
Matt wondered if he should come to the rescue. Not as a father figure, he warned himself, but as a cowboy.
When he thought Chance might cry, he stepped in and said, “Sometimes I give roping lessons on the ranch. And if it’s okay with your mom, I can teach you a few pointers. But we’d be doing it on the ground, not on horseback. That’s how everyone learns at first.”
“That would be so much fun.” Libby’s son danced in his seat. “Is it okay, Mom? Is it?”
She nodded, and Chance leaped into her arms and hugged her. After they separated, he grinned at Matt and handed him the phone, tearing off out of the room to tell his grandmother the good news.
Matt and Libby both fell silent. During the gentle pause, Matt returned the phone to her, and she pressed it against her chest. The picture of Becker and Chance was still on the screen.
“I wish I could kiss you for what you did for my son,” she said in a whisper.
He wanted to kiss her, too. But he couldn’t. Not here. Not like this. He spoke as softly as she did. “Was it your idea to tell him that his dad lived in an angel pot?”
“I told him that the urn was connected to his father and his dad was in heaven, but he came up with the rest of it. I never said that Becker was an angel flying around our house at night. Nor did I mention genies or wishes that couldn’t be granted. Becker’s family didn’t encourage those stories, either.” She lowered the phone to her lap. “It’s just Chance’s way of comforting himself, of rationalizing why his dad can’t come back to us.”
“I’m sorry he doesn’t have a father anymore.” Matt couldn’t think of anything else to say, except to give his condolences. No child should lose his or her parent.
“He doesn’t have many memories of Becker, but he tries to create them. He loves showing off those pictures. But it doesn’t always help.” Libby tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, where it curled toward her cheek. “I can’t thank you enough for offering to teach him to rope. You’re already becoming his hero.”
A lump formed in his throat. “He’s a nice kid.”
“And you’re a really nice man.”
“I just did what I thought was right.” He tried to play it down, but with the tender way she was looking at him, he was actually starting to feel like her son’s hero.
If only for a little while.
* * *
On the day of the family barbecue, Libby analyzed the people gathered around the table. You’d think that Julie and her mom had known each other for years. They hit it off beautifully. Lester was his usual kind self, and Chance was chomping on his burger and smiling at Matt. Chance had loved every moment of his first week on the ranch, and most of his joy had come from spending time with Matt.
As promised, Matt had been teaching him how to rope. The dummy they used—a plastic steer head attached to a bale of straw—was out on the grass. By now, Libby had gotten used to seeing it. Chance had even named it Stanley, short for Stanley the Steer. As for the rest of Chance’s gear, Matt had provided him with an extrasoft, kid-sized rope and one cotton glove.
Libby was downright crazy about Matt, especially after seeing how amazing he was with her son, but she was being careful not to let her attraction to him show. So far she’d lucked out with her mom. They’d been keeping Chance and her so busy attending group activities on the ranch, she didn’t have time to notice the heat between Libby and Matt.
Matt’s mom didn’t seem to be aware of it, either. Just yesterday, Libby had interviewed Julie for the book. So in that regard, Libby’s work on the ranch was done. Unless Matt miraculously changed his mind and agreed to be interviewed. But that wasn’t very likely.
Chance wiggled in his seat, drawing Libby’s attention to him. After swallowing the big, messy bite in his mouth, he said to her, “You should have Matt teach you to rope. You’d be good at it. Not as good as I am,” he added, being young and boastful, “but still good.”
“That’s okay. I’d rather watch you.” She’d seen how close Matt got to Chance during their lessons. She didn’t need Matt getting that close to her, at least not in public. Unfortunately, they weren’t doing it in private, either. It wasn’t easy to slip off together. In fact, it was proving impossible. They hadn’t kissed or touched or done anything even remotely romantic the entire week.
“Come on, Mom. Just try it.”
Libby blew out her breath. Chance could be a pest when he wanted something, and at the moment he wanted her to be a roper. She decided that her best line of defense was to change the subject. “How about if you just finish your burger, and let me eat mine?”
Chance rolled his eyes. Just then, Matt turned his gaze on Libby. Apparently he’d been listening to the exchange.
“Don’t you want to be a cowgirl?” he asked.
She almost kicked him under the table. He knew darned well that she’d already ridden him like a cowgirl, buck naked on his lap. Surely that counted for something.
“She’s probably just scared of Stanley,” Chance said.
Great. Her son was back in the game, baiting her.
“That steer head is pretty scary.” This came from Libby’s mother. Her mother. Good grief. So now she was joining in on it, too?
The conversation sparked Julie’s interest, as well. She said, “I always thought the ones with the red eyes were a little creepy. But Matt liked them when he was a kid. He thought they looked more menacing.”
Libby gazed across the grass at Stanley. Its plastic eyes glowed in the sunlight, glaring at her like balls of fire. Its horns were rather demonic, too. “I’m not scared of the stupid steer head.”
Matt’s tone was blasé. “It sort of sounds as if you are.”
Lester chuckled under his breath before stuffing his face with another spoonful of potato salad.
“This is a conspiracy,” Libby said.
“It’s just a roping lesson.” Matt took a slice of watermelon and put it on his plate. He’d already eaten two burgers and a bacon-wrapped hot dog smothered in cheese. Sometimes that man had an enormous appetite. And not just for food. She knew his hunger all too well.
“Just do it, Mom.” Chance refused to let up. “I’ll even help you.”
“All right. Fine.” She gave in. The bigger the stink she made, the worse it was going to get. “When we’re done eating, you and Matt can teach me to become a cowgirl.” She shot a glance at Matt, and he smiled a bit too triumphantly.
When everyone finished their food, Julie helped Libby’s mom clear the table, leaving Libby and Matt free for the lesson. Lester wandered off to have a smoke, and Chance hopped along with Libby and Matt, bouncing like a kangaroo.
“First things first.” Matt gave Chance his hat. “Will you hold on to this for me?”
“Sure.” The boy plopped it on his own head.
It was too big for him, but he wore it proudly, reminding Libby of the oversize hat Matt had worn in the childhood picture she’d seen of him at his mom’s house.
“I’ll be back.” Matt went into a shed and came back with an adult-sized rope and a glove.
He gave Libby the glove. “This should fit you.”
She put it on her right hand.
Her son piped up. “In team roping, the first guy ropes the horns, and he’s called a header. The other guy ropes the heels, and he’s called a heeler.”
Libby knew all of that. Her obsession with cowboys had come from watching rodeos on TV.
Chance adjusted the hat, which kept falling forward on his head. “Matt is a header. That’s what he’s teaching me to be, too. It’s okay for women to be team ropers and to play against the men.”
Libby knew that, too. But at the moment, she was more concerned about swooning over her lover than competing with him.
Matt said, “First, I’m going to show you how to a coil a rope.” He tossed the rope and demonstrated, explaining each step.
She watched him, listening to him the best she could.
He stood next to her and threw the rope again. “Now you try.”
She did her best. But it wasn’t quite right. Matt covered her hand with his and showed her again. “See?” he said. “Like this.”
Yes, she saw. She felt the warmth of his touch, too.
If he turned her face toward his, she could kiss him, which was the worst thought she could’ve had. Chance was watching.
“You’re doing good, Mom,” he said.
No, she wasn’t. But she thanked her son, anyway. She certainly wouldn’t be roping a steer anytime soon, not even Stanley, with its red, raging eyes. Libby could barely breathe, let alone coil the rope. How in the world was she going to graduate to the next step?
But somehow, she did. Matt moved her along, giving her an accelerated lesson. By then, Julie, Lester and her mom were back on the patio. Libby felt like an animal in a zoo, with everyone watching. Matt was showing her how to build a loop with the rope.
“I did great at this part,” Chance said.
Libby sucked at it. “I can’t learn this in a day.”
Matt brushed up against her, as if it was part of the lesson. Or maybe it was. She couldn’t tell anymore.
“We’re just doing this for fun,” he said.
Her idea of fun would be slipping into his room tonight. Not standing here with an audience, getting weak in the knees.
“Let me take over,” Chance said, eager to show off what he knew. He returned Matt’s hat, then put on his glove and picked up his rope.
Libby stood back, but not far enough, apparently. Matt reached for her hand and tugged her farther back, making sure that Chance didn’t accidentally hit her with the rope. But Libby already felt as if she’d been struck upside the head, wishing she really could slip into Matt’s room tonight.
And let him lasso her to the bed.