Disgusted, Eli stuck the phone in his pocket as he climbed the stairs then rubbed his temple where a low-grade headache brewed. The call from his brother-in-law made him wish he could reach through the connection and grab the bastard by the throat. Justin Bennett deserved to spend the rest of his life in an eight by ten cell.
Hearing a low murmur, he stopped in the darkened hallway outside Cameron’s bedroom. The sheer rightness of the scene calmed him, helped ease some of the anger. Gwen and Cameron sat on the bed, Gwen leaning back against the headboard with her arm around the boy, the soft light from the lamp bathing them in a warm glow. A book sat propped in front of them and she read in a quiet voice, Cameron’s head resting on her shoulder as he followed along. Eli recognized the copy of Where the Red Fern Grows Gwen had asked to borrow from his bookshelf the night before.
Cameron’s eyes were beginning to droop and Gwen paused, kissing him on the forehead. “Time for lights out, bub.”
For a moment, the desire to walk in and join them almost overwhelmed his good sense. He wondered how they’d react if he were to join their circle, if they would open it to include him. He crossed to his room as Cameron got busy trying to negotiate another ten minutes. Eli gathered flannel pants and a shirt and headed for the shower.
Letting hot water sluice over his head and beat against the aching muscles in his shoulders, he determinedly channeled his thoughts away from his conversation with Justin. Thinking about Gwen was more difficult to resist. Gwen making him dinner. Riding Queenie with the sun gilding her hair to gold. Hugging Cameron, reading to him, being his mother. He’d never understood why his sister had so willingly allowed Gwen to take on the mother role, but maybe it was that Gwen had taken on the role because Chloe would not. Regardless, the past week had shown him that Cameron and Gwen should not be separated.
That realization left him in a deep quandary over what to do about Cameron. He was convinced the best environment for him was right here on the Broken Arrow. Eli could provide him with a stable home and he thought being raised on a ranch was a heck of a lot better for a kid than living in a city. Eli didn’t think he’d have to fight his mother for custody of her grandson. She’d readily enough relinquished Eli to his father to raise, and now in her late fifties, he doubted she’d want to take on an active child. But what part Gwen would play was the question. He wouldn’t fight her for custody, and Cameron had already told him he wanted to stay with her. Hell, he knew in his gut the kid was better off with Gwen. Considering that, the obvious solution couldn’t be ignored.
Turning off the taps, Eli toweled off. His mind turned to their stream-side kisses. He could admit to himself that getting his hands on her had been occupying his mind more and more of late. If he were honest, he’d been attracted all along, ever since that first time he’d seen her in his mother’s house. Gwen talking to that guy in the sunny kitchen, all curly hair and golden eyes. Her features were quietly pretty, and then she’d laughed at something the boy had said, and it was like the warmth of a thousand candles. Her eyes had glowed, her smile beamed, and Eli had felt like he’d been bucked off a horse. But then she had spied him staring from across the room and the radiance had fled from her face. He’d wondered at the transformation, and throughout that Thanksgiving weekend, why she so obviously avoided him.
The first time he’d kissed her after he’d carried her upstairs had been an impulse, something to see if he could get the doing of it off his mind. But all it had done was whet his appetite. He’d kissed her again, and when he’d broken off that initial connection, she’d pulled him back with the demand for more. Her heart-stopping responsiveness had made him want to find a sunny spot in the grass to finish what they’d started.
Pulling socks on his feet and a thermal shirt over his head, Eli walked out into the hall. The lights were off in Cameron’s room, the door ajar. He glanced in and saw the dark head nestled on the down pillow, a quilt pulled up to his chin. Gwen’s room was empty, so he went in search of her downstairs.
He found her on the couch in the living room, hair coming loose from its ponytail. Curled up with her feet under her, she tapped the screen of the iPad. White teeth worrying her bottom lip brought a knee-jerk hit of desire and almost had him making a U-turn in retreat. Damn it. He didn’t need this. The pull every time he saw her. The distraction of sexual frustration. He should have gone into his office, dealt with some of the paperwork. Instead he’d been compelled to find her. Sit with her, talk with her. Be near her. The want was edging toward need, and that worried him.
“Eli?”
“What?” He focused to find her frowning at him, a furrow between her brows.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah.”
“You sure? You look a little off. Maybe I should check your forehead for fever. You might have caught what I had.”
“No.” No way in hell could he let her lay those soft hands on his face. If she did he’d probably have her under him and horizontal on the couch before either one of them knew what was happening.
“Hmm. Okay, but if you still look out of it in the morning, I’m checking you for fever whether you like it or not.”
She uncurled her legs and let her feet rest on the coffee table. A pair of those suede boots women liked to wear sat on the floor. Her long legs were encased in some stretchy black material and she wore green socks with tiny yellow penguins bunched around her ankles. Why the hell that struck him as sexy he didn’t have a clue.
She leaned over to hand him the iPad. “There is something I would like to buy, if you wouldn’t mind.”
For someone who seemed not to want to accept, much less ask for anything, he was surprised. He looked at the screen.
“It’s a book on astronomy for kids and it comes with a star chart. It’s for Cameron. Like I told you, his birthday is at the end of next week. I’ll pay you in cash if you’ll order it for me. Remember, my credit card is a no-go.”
“Okay. Nothing more?”
She shrugged. “No.”
“Is there anything you need? Warmer clothes?”
“Nope.”
He handed her back the iPad with a sigh. “Put in the information, I’ll get my wallet.” He returned a minute later and handed her his card.
She had propped the iPad on the coffee table and set the card next to it. “I put in your address but I need your zip code and phone number.” She keyed in the information when he told her, then picked up the credit card and tapped in the number. When done, she handed him the card and stood. “Thanks. I’ll run upstairs and get the cash.”
“Sit down, Gwen.”
“I want to get the money.”
“It’s not like I don’t know where you live.” He ran his hand through his damp hair. “We need to talk.”
She eyed him warily but sat. He noticed her chewing her bottom lip again. Any other woman? Not sexy. Her? Insanely sexy.
“About what?”
About why the hell his attraction to her had ratcheted up about a thousand-fold. He cleared his throat. “About you, Chloe, and Cameron. I want to understand.”
“It doesn’t matter. Let it go.”
“It matters, damn it.”
“Don’t swear at me, Elijah MacElvoy.”
Eli massaged his forehead, trying to ease the headache that was starting to pound like a cattle stampede. “‘Damn’ is hardly swearing.”
“It is too swearing. Swearing is a bad habit. It might take some effort, but you could break it if you wanted to.”
She looked so prim sitting there lecturing him for saying “damn” with all the earnestness of, well, a kindergarten teacher. The urge to scoop her up and kiss her senseless had him stifling a groan. Now that he’d had a sample of what that would be like, he was less and less inclined to fight the impulse. He sat back in the chair and took a fortifying breath. “I don’t have a swearing problem.”
“A lot of people don’t realize they have a problem until someone points it out to them. So you’re welcome.”
“For what?” Following the conversation with the craving to kiss her vying for attention with the steadily building headache was a challenge.
“For pointing out your swearing issue. Honestly, Eli, keep up.”
“You’re a pain in the ass, you know that? Christ.”
She lifted a perfectly arched brow. “My point exactly. ‘Ass’ is a swear word the way you used it, and ‘Christ’ is like a half swear. You need to be mindful if you’re trying to break the habit.”
“Which I’m not.” He held up a hand when she looked ready to argue the point. “Okay, okay. I’ll try not to swear in front of you.”
“Or in front of Cameron.”
“Jesus. Okay, not in front of Cameron either. Happy?”
She smiled. “Yes, I’m happy. Anyway, what did you want to talk about?”
As always, the smile transformed her face from understated prettiness to something warm and radiant that hit him like a punch in the gut. He struggled to bring back his focus. Since she was rubbing her arms under the lightweight sweatshirt, he rose and crossed to the fireplace and threw a log onto the glowing embers.
He sat again, resting his forearms on his knees, hands clasped in front of him. “First, Justin called.”
She sat up abruptly. “What did he want?”
“To tell me the date and location of Chloe’s funeral. And to ask some probing questions about you.”
“What did you tell him?”
“That I hadn’t seen or heard from you in years. He knows you’re here, so he’s fishing.”
She leaned back against the cushions, pressing her fingers into her eyes. “Cameron should be able to go to his mother’s funeral.”
“Maybe Justin thinks Chloe’s funeral will lure you out.” He studied her face. “We’ll take Cam to visit her grave once Justin is arrested.”
She lowered her hands and he was relieved to see her eyes were dry. “We should have our own tribute. Cam needs to know we remember her.”
“Okay.” He drummed his fingers on his knee. “I’m still trying to make sense of a couple of things.”
“Like what?”
“Like your relationship with Chloe.”
Her expression turned wary. “Why?”
“Because it ticks me off that I was wrong.”
“About what, exactly?”
“My assumption that you were in the way of Chloe and Cameron bonding. I’m getting the idea the kid needed a mother and you stepped in because Chloe wasn’t doing a good job of it.”
“I wasn’t more of a mother than Chloe, but I had a part in raising him.” She paused, and he wished he hadn’t brought on the sadness he saw in her expression. “Chloe and I had gotten an apartment together in our junior year of college after she learned she was pregnant. The biological father wasn’t in the picture, and Chloe asked me to be her birth coach. I went to the classes and OB appointments with her. I was there when Cameron was born, and we lived together until Chloe and Justin got married when Cam was seven.”
“You were a parent to him.”
“I’d say a co-parent.”
“With Chloe dead, that makes you his mother.”
“Let’s not confuse the issue. Chloe was Cameron’s mother. He’s always called me Aunt Gwenny, and that works for me.”
“You were never an irresponsible, wild party girl, were you?”
“No.”
“Why did you let me think you were?”
She gave a shrug. “You made me mad. That Thanksgiving when we first met? I heard you telling Chloe that I was an indiscriminate flirt and she should get better friends. You put my back up and I didn’t feel I should have to defend myself.”
“I’m sorry I misjudged you.”
Her eyes searched his. “I’m not sure why it matters now.”
“Because you matter now,” he admitted.
***
Max Simcoe drummed his fingers on the steering wheel while his idiot partner tried to figure out the GPS. The truck idled on the side of the road where not a single car had passed since they’d pulled over. Cell coverage had crapped out miles ago. And this job hadn’t even come with a new enough vehicle to warrant an in-dash unit, so instead they had a handheld device, which was apparently much too complicated for the shithead Dwayne Tellier to figure out. He stared out the window of the truck and wished desperately for a cigarette. If they weren’t in the goddamn fucking middle of nowhere where it was so fucking cold in the morning you just about froze your ass off, he’d be able to get out of his car, walk into a store and buy a pack of cigs, and get a cup of coffee, too. And behind the store he could probably meet up with a dealer and buy a hit of smack. But they were stuck in hillbilly land until the job was finished. He leaned over and grabbed the GPS out of Tellier’s hands.
“Give that back, asshole. I almost had it figured out.”
He shoved the guy back when he tried to grab the device. “I’m in charge, I’ll figure it out. You can’t figure out how to tie your own shoelaces.” He didn’t have to look at the idiot to know he was mad-dogging him. Guy was a Neanderthal with a low forehead that sported eyebrows that just about touched over his nose, and an IQ to match. Max ignored him and went about trying to figure out where the hell they were.
“I’m going to take a piss.” With that announcement, Tellier slammed out of the truck. Max smirked. He hoped the guy fell off the side of a cliff while he was taking that piss. That would provide some comic relief.
How the hell was he supposed to check in with Bennett if there was no fucking cell service? He put the address for the Broken Arrow Ranch into the GPS and waited for the damned thing to figure out their location. He stared at the screen. Sure enough, they’d taken a wrong turn and were now on a road that ran behind the cluster of ranch buildings visible on the satellite view. He studied the layout of the place, noting the location of the main house and the quickest escape route once they grabbed the woman and kid. He didn’t know why Bennett didn’t order them killed, which was a hell of a lot easier than snatching them and then holding them in a cabin like the guy wanted. He figured Justin Bennett maybe wanted to have a little fun before he offed them. Couldn’t blame him. Or maybe the woman knew something and Justin needed that before the fun began. Regardless, that was the job. Snatch the woman and kid and hold them until Justin got there.
He widened the screen to take in the area surrounding the ranch. A red dot showed his current position, and where the road they were on joined what looked like a dirt road, more of a path than a road, that ran along the creek until it crossed the road. An idea formed. He and the idiot could drive until they reached that path, then hike down along the creek. It would put them close enough to the ranch to get a firsthand look at the setup from the cover of the trees. They’d see how many people were about, and work out a plan for the grab. He stopped himself from leaning on the horn to get Tellier’s attention. He didn’t want to alert any of the dumbass cowboys to their presence. He was sorely tempted to drive off and let Tellier fend for himself, but as much as he despised him, the motherfucker was a big brute and Max would need him if he had to grab two people, even if one was a kid.
The sound of cracking and crashing had him looking out the window to see the big bastard wading through the underbrush to get back to the truck. Max eyed his partner as he settled back in his seat. He was covered in dried leaves and pine needles and when he reached in his pocket for a pack of cigarettes, a cut across the back of his hand oozed a thin line of blood. “What the hell happened to you? And give me one of those smokes.”
“Fell down the goddamn mountain, that’s what. I slipped and ended up sliding down a hill, rolling through all these bushes and shit. Got covered in crap.”
Max didn’t bother smothering a laugh. He took a cigarette and pulled out his lighter. “Better hope you didn’t roll through poison oak, or you’re going to be hating life more than you already do.”
He put the truck into gear and didn’t bother to check for traffic because there wasn’t any traffic in the sticks. He pulled onto the road, scanning for the trail that would lead him to the Broken Arrow Ranch.