Hank was watching Grace’s pickup ease out of the crowded driveway when Violet slung an arm around his neck. “Nice save. We owe you one, Buckwheat.”
“Awesome. Got a computer I can use?”
The words had just popped out, half joking, but Violet shrugged. “I’m off the clock. What do you need?”
Five minutes later they were in the backyard office, with Hank leaning over her shoulder to squint at the website that would give him his credit report. Violet stood and gestured for him to take her seat. “Just follow the prompts. I hope you have your social security number memorized.”
He nodded. “This will give me a list of all my outstanding loans and debts?”
“Yep. Plus a credit score, and whether it means you can replace that piece-of-crap pickup.”
Which he had no intention of doing. An auto loan had been the only thing he could think of that required an emergency credit check. And why the hell would Grace tell him to check his credit? “Thanks.”
“The least I can do.” Someone outside called her name and she turned to go.
Since he’d never had a credit card or taken out a loan, when the results popped up the report consisted of one line item: Yakima Valley Collections. His hospital bill had been over sixteen thousand dollars for all the tests, the surgery on his arm, and an overnight stay, plus interest and late fees. And it had been paid in full around a week after Melanie and Wyatt had dropped by to see him at Norma’s place.
His first furious thought was that Wyatt had taken it upon himself to wipe out the debt. But what had Grace said about the baby’s new parents? They can afford a lot of things.
And they had accessed his account and shelled out thousands of dollars without his knowledge or consent. He sprang to his feet, banging the chair off the wall. Outside, the shady lawn was a sea of cowboy hats. Gil had set up his sound system and was doing a cover of a Reckless Kelly song, accompanied by a bass guitar and a guy tapping out the beat on what looked like a wooden box. A few people were already feeling happy enough to dance.
Over their heads, Joe gestured for Hank to join a cluster of cowboys gathered on the side porch. Hank returned the wave but veered off to where he’d spotted Bing, impossible to miss even in this mob. Her blouse was a brilliant yellow, and the contrast with her dark skin made her stand out like a black-eyed Susan in a field of white daisies.
She gave him a fierce hug. “I knew you still had it in you.”
“It was just a reflex.”
“Exactly. You can’t fake those.”
Hank shook his head, unwilling to assign too much importance to something that had happened so fast he hadn’t had time to second-guess himself.
“We’re leaving. It’s time to get Grumpy Bear back to his den.” She signaled to his dad, who was having his ear bent by one of the old codgers.
Johnny made his excuses and his escape. “Thank God. Do you have any idea how many times I’ve heard about how Vernon spurred one to win Houston but got hosed by the judges?” He offered a hand to Hank, who was so startled he accepted the quick, hard shake. “That was one slick move you made.”
“Uh…thanks.” Hank could practically hear the ripple of amazement as word spread that he and Johnny were having a civil conversation. “I’m gonna get out of here before Korby starts trying to pour beer down my throat.”
“Where are you going?” Bing asked.
“To see Grace, if she’ll let me.” And after what he’d just learned, she was going to talk to him, one way or another.
“Good luck,” his dad said, then stuttered, “Um, I mean…you know.”
Hank didn’t bristle like he would have before, recognizing that what he’d once pegged as sarcasm was more often Johnny’s gift for sticking his foot in it. “I’m staying at the apartment, so don’t wait up,” he said, and made a run for it.
Back in Earnest, he stopped at the Kwicky Mart and got a large Coke. Weird to see a teenager he didn’t recognize behind the counter. He sat down on a bench outside and drained half of the cup. Ahh. Nothing like that first icy-cold swallow when you were the kind of tired, dusty, and thirsty that only came from a long day at the rodeo.
And basking in the glow of a damn good save.
But his thoughts flipped over to Grace, the baby, that payment on his loan. It was as though his brain—hell, his whole life—had been split into two layers. On the surface, he kept rolling along like the cars that idled past on Main Street: headed home from work, to the café, to the bar, or just passing through with barely a glance at some guy sitting on a bench. Nothing special to see here.
Underneath, though, he was a sticky mess. He was a father. But not. And it hadn’t struck him until he’d stood beside Korby, felt the new, invisible barrier between them, that there was a huge difference between the many things Hank didn’t want to talk about and this one thing that he couldn’t.
The sense of separation must be a thousand times worse for Grace. Pregnancy, childbirth… That was some major shit, the most profound experience of a woman’s life according to most, and she had to pretend those months of her life had never happened. But not when she was with him. In a strange way, they were back to where they’d started—they could tell each other the things they would never confess to anyone else. And damn, he’d missed that too.
He polished off the Coke and tossed the cup in the trash. Time to roll up his sleeve. Yes, singular. He unbuttoned his cuff and pushed it up to see the number scrawled on his forearm in dense black. He’d copied it from his dad’s caller ID with the only pen he could reach while he was talking to Grace.
He kept the text simple and to the point. We need to talk. Please?
When there was no immediate response, he got in the pickup and started driving. He was on the outskirts of Dumas when his phone chimed. He pulled over to read the dinky screen.
I’m at home. When?
Now.
He tossed the phone aside, hit the gas, and three minutes later he was standing at her door. It swung open and there she stood—her eyes huge and smudged with purple under her delicate skin. God, she was such a little bit of a thing to be so strong.
And it was time he started carrying his share of the load. “I shouldn’t have run off last night,” he said. “Or any of the times before. I swear, Grace, it won’t happen again.”
Tears pooled in her eyes. He opened his arms to gather her up and just stood there holding on as she made a small, choked sound and pressed her cheek against his heart.
* * *
Grace had imagined a thousand versions of this conversation—what she’d say, what Hank would say. She’d been prepared for last night’s rage and disbelief, but not this bewildered acceptance.
Or the way he had tucked her up close against him on the love seat.
She tilted her head to study his face for any sign that he was about to snap out of it. “You’re awfully calm.”
“I don’t know what else to be.” He absently rubbed her arm as he searched for an explanation. “It’s like you breaking your arm when you were two years old, and saying it didn’t count because you don’t remember how it felt. I know I was involved, but I’m just not feeling it.”
“Yet.”
“True, but it doesn’t feel like a freak-out waiting to happen.” His brows pinched together. “I am a little annoyed that they swiped my credit information.”
She sighed. “It’s more like they own it. Or bought it from the people who did. At least that’s what they did with my student loans.”
He recoiled. “Christ. That might be worse. Who are these people, the Mafia?”
“Close, but with fewer hit men.” Well, not the kind that carried guns. These mobsters enforced their will with money, influence, and high-powered law firms, metaphorically burying anyone who got in their way. She extracted an envelope from her back pocket and handed it to him. “That’s the PIN and debit card to access an account with a twenty-thousand-dollar balance, all in your name.”
Hank stared dumbly at the letter. “And if I don’t want their money?”
“It’ll sit there and earn interest until you die. The Cowboy Crisis Fund is the beneficiary.”
“Geezus.” His dazed eyes came up to meet hers. “What did you get?”
She shifted uncomfortably. “They covered all my medical bills and living expenses for the pregnancy, which is standard. And then someone wrote off my student loans and set up the same kind of account for me, which is not. Gil was so pissed.”
“Why?”
“Because Krista’s parents tried to do the same thing to him. It’s a bribe, to encourage you to relinquish your parental rights and ride off into the sunset. They figure if they give the rednecks some money, they’ll just go make another baby if they want one instead of bothering with Maddie.”
“Bothering? Christ.” He scooped his hair back, then shook it into place. “And these are Maddie’s parents?”
“Grandparents…not that anyone could ever prove it. But her mom told them to knock it off.” Grace hesitated, reluctant to stir things up, but she had to say, “That’s what Wyatt was trying to escape when he left home, and he took Maddie’s mother with him. She was one of his closest childhood friends…and his first ex-wife.”
“First?” Hank’s jaw dropped. “How many does he have?”
“Um, two. Not counting Melanie, but she’s not his ex, so—”
“What about the baby’s father?” Hank cut in. “Besides me, I mean.”
“She doesn’t have one.” Again, Grace paused for a breath. “She has another mother.”
Hank blinked, took a couple of breaths, then spoke slowly, pausing as he arranged the pieces. “So…Wyatt has an ex-wife no one has ever heard about…who is now married to another woman…and he helped them adopt our baby.”
“Foster for now, but that about sums it up.”
“Geezus.” Hank splayed his free hand over his face. “My head is going to explode.”
In that case, she might as well show him the Christmas picture. She fished it out and set it on his knee. “Those are her parents.”
His hand dropped slowly to pick up the photo and angle it for a better view. Finally, he said, “Wyatt was married to the blond?”
“Yes.”
“And the other one is…”
“Black?” Grace supplied.
He did a slow, dumbfounded headshake. “If your dad sees this, he’s gonna lose his shit.”
Yep. He might eventually have forgiven her for giving her baby to what he considered a suitable family. Someone like Violet’s sister, Lily, as white as her name and with a husband who was a minister. A mixed-race couple would’ve stretched her father’s tolerance to the absolute limit. But a married gay couple?
Grace touched a fingertip to one face, then the next. “The black woman is Julianne, and the other is Laura. They are lovely women who wanted a baby so much. How could I say Sorry, but my papa wouldn’t approve?”
“So you basically gave him and his church a stiff middle finger instead?”
She had to smile at that, just a little. “You know how I’ve always wanted to. And I haven’t exactly been his favorite since, um, you know.”
“I dragged your name through every mudhole in the Panhandle?”
She winced at his self-disgust, but nodded. He lapsed into one of the silences she’d begun to expect from him. Those moments he took to step back, evaluate, and examine his reaction. The apartment was so quiet she could hear her own nerves crackling. As she tried to move away, Hank’s arm tightened. She extricated herself long enough to set her phone in the dock of the stereo system and choose the playlist she called Mellow.
The haunting lilt of Brenn Hill’s “With a Whisper” filled the room as Hank pulled her back into the hard curve of his body. It felt so good to be held this way that she barely choked back a hot rush of tears.
Hank nodded toward the shoebox. “Is that more pictures and stuff?”
“Yes.”
Neither of them made a move to open the lid. The song ended and another started, “Diamonds and Gasoline” by the Turnpike Troubadours. Two verses played before Hank said, “Would it be weird if I said I don’t want to see?”
“I…” Hadn’t considered the possibility. “It’s up to you.”
His fingers drummed on his kneecap. “I’m not saying never. But it’s not like she needs anything from me right away, other than my approval for the adoption, and I’ve got a lot of other crap to handle.”
A part of her gut that had been knotted up for months and months relaxed so suddenly she was almost nauseous. He wasn’t going to try to tear Maddie away from the parents Grace had chosen for her. “I understand.”
“I don’t.” His gaze suddenly locked on hers. “Why did you even try to talk to me in a jam-packed bar when I was shit-faced?”
“I didn’t have your phone number.” And wow, that sounded lame when she said it out loud. “I’d heard you were back in town, but I didn’t run into you anywhere else. By the time I realized how wasted you were, it was too late.”
She had already attracted his attention, and he’d turned on her with droopy eyes and a cruelty she’d never seen in him. Sorry, Gracie. You’ve already had the only piece of me you’re gonna get.
“And you didn’t expect me to be a complete prick.” Hank gathered her in, cradling her head against his chest as he heaved a broken sigh. “Dammit, Grace. I was supposed to take better care of you than this.”
Her heart stumbled over the ragged edges of his voice. “I didn’t expect you to.”
“I know. And that really sucks.”
Oh, Hank. This was what he’d hidden behind the laughter and the jokes. But Grace had seen how hard he was on himself. Worse than his dad could ever be.
She tilted her head back, giving in to the urge to brush the hair out of his eyes. “You thought you were doing me a favor by staying out of my life. I’d say that counts as looking out for me, even if it was stupid.”
“Was it?” His gaze narrowed on her face. “If you hadn’t been pregnant, if it was just us, do you really think you would have been better off with me around?”
“Yes.” And if she’d given him a real chance, he would have done as right by her as he could, but pride had stopped her from trying again. She didn’t want to be his obligation…and she didn’t want to be obligated to raise his child.
“I made the decision to go it alone,” she said. “I made all the decisions. And deep down, that’s the way I wanted it. I got to choose my career and my freedom without having to take what you wanted into account.”
His hand cupped the back of her head, holding her there, so close she could count the varying shades of brown in his eyes. “You make it sound so cold, and I know you better than that, Grace.”
Do you? She shook her head. “I just did what was best for me.”
“And for Maddie.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Take it from someone who’s been there. She’s a hundred percent better off than she would have been with a couple of people who were just making do.”
“Oh, Hank.” This time she sighed the words out loud. “You deserved so much more.”
His thumb skimmed the side of her neck, making her shiver. “Maybe, but that’s all history. What I want to know now is, do I deserve you?”
“I…what do you mean?”
He shifted, sliding his hand down to mold her against him. “I want you, Grace. And I need you. I’ve been imagining holding you like this since the day I walked out your door. I was planning to take it slow, but now I’ve got you here and I don’t want to let you go.” His thumb moved to her mouth, tracing her bottom lip. “What do I do about that?”
Heat surged in her at his words, his touch, the lean length of him against her, and hunger came roaring in behind it. She pressed her palms against his chest. She should push him away. But God, she wanted to pull him closer instead. Taste the salt she could smell on his skin. Explore every angle of this new, harder body. His heartbeat accelerated beneath her hand, a heavy thud that matched her own. She spread her fingers to absorb every degree of the heat pumping off his body. It was crazy to even think what she was thinking.
She was so damn tired of being sane, though, and she wanted his hands on her, his body at her mercy, to be known and cherished in a way only he had ever made her feel.
But she wouldn’t sacrifice their friendship to flames.
“We can’t let this come between us again.” Her fingers drifted down across his stomach, perilously close to the obvious bulge in his jeans, and she felt him stiffen in response. “No matter what happens tonight, I still have to be able to sit at your lunch table tomorrow.”
“Always.” And he took her mouth, his kiss super-heated with frustrated desire. Her own rose to meet it, a white-hot blast that fused them together and incinerated any remaining doubt. He hooked his hand behind her knee and pulled her across so she was straddling his thighs, then dragged his palms up her back, plastering her against him.
Grace strained and arched, shamelessly greedy for his taste, the rough silk of his tongue, the scent of rodeo dust in his hair and the grit on his skin. The kiss went on and on, two parched souls slaking a bone-deep thirst.
His hands came down to cup her butt and he tipped forward and stood in one fluid motion. She tightened her arms around his neck as he carried her into the unlit bedroom and lowered them both onto the bed so she was pinned by his delicious weight.
Finally he broke the kiss, his breath coming fast and hot. “I don’t have any condoms.”
“Top drawer.” She made a vague gesture in the direction of her nightstand. “I’m sort of a stickler about providing my own now.”
His smile flashed in the dim light. “That’s my girl.”