Книга - The Come-Back Cowboy

The Come-Back Cowboy
Jodi O'Donnell


ADDICTED TO ADDIEOnce, rancher's daughter Addie Gentry loved a cowboy with all her young heart–and she gave herself to him completely. But, despite his ardent promises, Deke Larrabie rode off into the sunset, unknowingly leaving Addie with child….What scandalous secrets made Deke disappear? And how dare he come back to Bridgewater on the eve of Addie's engagement, to stir up desires as stormy as a Texas twister, to enthrall her young son, to claim what he vowed was rightfully his? Lithe, lean and more dangerous than ever, would Deke repeat past wrongs–or was this cowboy finally home to stay?









“God knows I never meant to hurt you, Addie,” Deke said.


But you did, she thought. And I’m so afraid you’ll do it again.

She simply couldn’t let it happen! Angrily she swiped away a traitorous tear. “I promised myself I wouldn’t do this!”

“Do what?”

“That I wouldn’t cry over you ever again! Because I cried rivers over you, till I thought I’d die. Damn it, it took years to stop my heart from pounding at every ring of the phone or trip to the mailbox. You can’t do this to me again, Deke. You can’t come barging back into Bridgewater and m-make me—” She broke off, her heart thundering in her chest.

“Make you what?” he persisted.

She scraped at her wet cheeks. “Damn it! Make me love you again!”








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Karen Taylor Richman,

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The Come-Back Cowboy

Jodi O’Donnell





www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


To my fellow St. Ambrose C&M-ers—thanks for being a big part of why I love my job.




JODI O’DONNELL


grew up one of fourteen children in small-town Iowa. As a result, she loves to explore in her writing how family relationships influence who and why we love as we do.

A USA TODAY bestselling author, Jodi has also been a finalist for the Romance Writers of America’s RITA


Award, and is a past winner of RWA’s Golden Heart Award. She lives in Iowa with her two dogs, Rio and Leia.




The Journal of Addie Gentry


June 15

Our son was born today. Deke’s and mine. Which means it’s been about nine months since he left—left without a word of explanation or even a goodbye. Left before his promise to me had died on his lips: that he’d love me forever, would never leave me….

Still, he’s beautiful, this tiny baby the two of us created. And when I look into those eyes that are so like his father’s, I know that even with all the tears I’ve cried over Deke’s leaving, the prayers I’ve sent up to heaven begging for his return, the words of hopelessness I’ve written on these pages…even with all these, I could never regret this child we made.

And so as much as I’ll curse myself for doing it, I’ll keep on praying in my heart of hearts: come back, cowboy. Oh, cowboy, won’t you come back…?




Contents


Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve




Chapter One


“J ace! Jace, come back here this instant!”

The sound of a truck door slamming in the distance tempered the sheer panic in Addie Gentry’s voice as she burst through the same door that seconds before her son had shot out of like a pellet from a BB gun. She’d be blasted, though, if she’d duck her head in embarrassment. She wasn’t about to give her son the notion he could get away with such behavior just because one of the ranch hands happened to be within earshot. Nossir.

Thank goodness that at her order, Jace stopped short of the weathered gazebo halfway across the yard. She could see he still radiated pent-up emotion, fists nailed to his sides in barely leashed frustration, telling her he was spring-loaded to take off again. And making him look like another who’d up and left.

It raised the fine hairs on the back of her neck.

“You are not running away from here, Jace,” Addie said, sparing not a glance toward whoever it was who’d slammed the truck door and marching toward her son. Her progress was hindered by the heels of her one and only pair of nice pumps suck-plugging in the turf with every step, which escalated her own frustration this morning yet another count. The expensive shoes would be ruined in this mud, which only added insult to injury: they’d already punished the tender tissues of her feet, widened by miles in cowboy boots.

The hair she’d spent forty minutes coaxing into order in the damp mid-April weather frizzed up around her face like she’d stepped on a live wire. Now, there was a thought. As good a solution as any. Unfortunately, she had barely enough time as it was to get the situation with Jace taken care of, much less find a moment to fix her hair—with Connor due any minute.

“I will not stand for this sort of behavior,” Addie informed Jace when she reached him. “You got a problem with what’s goin’ on, you stay and work it out. Runnin’ tear for bear out the door is not an option!”

He at least had the grace to look ashamed, as he scuffed a boot toe against the gazebo’s worn wooden step, making him seem more like the boy she’d raised and not the rebel who’d taken over her son’s six-year-old body ever since her announcement last month. This boy she had some hope of reasoning with.

“Jace,” she said, gently taking him by the shoulders to turn him toward her, still ignoring the figure at the corner of her vision who had the decency not to intrude on their private business, even if they were conducting it practically in public. “Hon, why won’t you at least give him a chance?”

“’Cause…he’s a phony, Mama!” He looked up at her, amber-green eyes again turning contrary in his boyish face. “He says he’s a rancher, but he can’t hardly rope a cow or nothin’. All the boys laugh about how he’s the only rancher they’ve seen who gets slicked up before he goes to work every day.”

It sounded as if she needed to have a talk with the hands, Addie thought severely, perhaps starting with the one who’d set out toward them from across the ranch yard. She narrowed her eyes, trying to make out his identity, but the drab light and misty air obscured even the edges of the red barn behind him.

She bent back to Jace. “Just because a man’s got some things to learn, that doesn’t mean he’s a phony, hon.”

His small shoulders twitched impatiently under her palms. “But he’s always callin’ me his pal—and we’re not!”

“He’s only trying to be friendly! I know for a fact that Connor is one-hundred-percent earnest about being your dad—”

“But I don’t want him for my dad!” Jace broke in, getting upset all over again. “I don’t wanna go live somewhere else ’sides here!”

His struggle against her hold on him nearly broke her heart. It just wasn’t like Jace to be so desperate—which made Addie realize how deeply the feelings in her son went regarding this particular issue, feelings she’d believed long ago resolved.

Well, she sure had been wrong.

What was she to do, though? It was time. Time for her to lay the past to rest once and for all and get on with her life—and take definite steps toward putting a father into Jace’s.

“Jace, please,” Addie said huskily, her fingers tightening on his shoulders. “I know this is a lot of change to take in right now. But I really do think you’ll feel differently if you just give Connor a chance.” She hesitated, then went on in soft appeal. “Give us all a chance to be a real family.”

This sent him into an absolute frenzy. “No, we won’t! He can’t be my dad!”

“But why not, Jace?” she asked, completely stumped.

“’Cause!” His eyes filled with rare tears, disturbing Addie even more. “I don’t want a dad, ever!”

With that, Jace broke free, whirling around and taking off like a locomotive at full speed away from her, head down, jeans-clad legs pumping. Addie could only look achingly after him. She’d never felt more helpless in her life, for she didn’t believe for a moment that Jace didn’t want a father. That wasn’t the problem, but she was confounded as to what really was.

And just as at a loss about how she might find out.

Then the boy was suddenly swept from his feet with a deep “Whoa there, Slick,” and swung around in a movement as smooth as a dance step, dislodging Jace’s cowboy hat from his head. The move surprised him enough that he struggled not at all, but only stared up at the stranger who held him under the arms like an eight-week-old puppy.

For this man, Addie now saw, wasn’t one of the Bar G’s ranch hands…although there was something uncommonly familiar about him. She couldn’t make out his expression under the shading brim of his black Stetson, but his stance was like stone as he, too, stared down at Jace in surprise.

Leaning a hand against the railing, Addie straightened as she took in the whole of him—lithe and lean and tense as a jungle cat, vigilant. Dangerous.

A steel rod of shock shot through her spine, making every muscle in her body go rigid. It couldn’t be!

The sun broke through the clouds, cranking the humidity up another couple of notches and distracting her from the danger swirling around her. It was getting late. She needed to get Jace taken care of, needed to batten down this thicket of hair and scrape the mud off her heels. Needed to remind Opal, the wife of one of the ranch hands who tended the house, to pick up Daddy’s prescription at the pharmacy when she was in town for groceries. Needed to do the thousand and one things that signified life going on as usual.

The problem was it couldn’t—not when the danger wasn’t around her but within her. For in that instant her traitorous heart rose up in her with the force of a hundred-year flood, drowning out every other sound in the world with its jubilant cry: At last! At last, he’s come back.

Oh, I knew he’d keep his promise!



He had a son.

The realization rocked him, tipped his world and set each ever-so-carefully placed piece on it careening perilously toward the rim.

Deke Larrabie scrutinized the dark-haired boy that he held; his hawk eyes that could spot a case of scours in a calf before it started looking peaked were hindered not one whit by the overcasting clouds. The air hung heavy around him, though, making it hard to breathe, hard to think.

For it changed the whole picture—his whole life—if he’d left Addie Gentry pregnant.

Could he be wrong? A skirmish over the question broke out in him. Even as Deke did a review of the events of the past couple of months that had brought him to this moment, he clung to the possibility as he would a rope over a yawning canyon.

But why else would Addie’s father have labeled his call providential, even if Deke had been phoning in direct enquiry to Jud Gentry’s ad for a ranching consultant at the Bar G? Except that when Jud hadn’t mentioned Addie, Deke had assumed life had taken her away from the ranch and that she no longer lived there.

Of course, he hadn’t had the guts to assign the label “happily married” to the situation, even in his own mind. But when he’d first spotted her a moment ago with the boy who was obviously her son, he’d felt nothing but relieved gratefulness that after he left she had gone on and found happiness.

That hadn’t exactly been evident in the tone of their words, unclear to him except for the last—that heart-wrenching cry of I don’t want a dad, ever!

Desperately, he peered at the boy as he slowly lowered him to the ground, the small hands continuing to clutch Deke’s shirtsleeves. The smattering of freckles across his nose, like splatters of tan paint, was all Addie, he thought. So was the wide lower lip that gave the youngster the appearance, at least at this moment, of being able to bend without breaking, being able to yield precious ground while not giving it all up.

But the Will Rogers cowlick in front and those cat-colored eyes looking up at him with an even more impossible mixture of hope and doubt—those were pure Larrabie, come by in a straight shot from Deke’s father D.K., to Deke, to this boy.

He had a son. They had a son. He and Addie.

And the past seven years he’d been living a lie.

Another depth charge of emotion buffeted Deke, as nitro-potent as he’d experienced in ages. What a fool he was, thinking he had a chance to make anything up to Jud or in any way change the fate that had been written for him the day he was born.

Because it was not this boy, but Addie who changed everything. Everything.

At the realization, his heart set up a pounding cadence, its pace growing stronger and faster, like a clock wound too tight after years of never being wound at all. Holding his breath, he focused on slowing down the sound until it beat out a nerve-steadying rhythm, metronome-like. One-two…thud-thump.

Deke knew the mantra; it had become a part of him. You and you alone are in charge of your destiny. He was not at the mercy of his inclinations. At the mercy of his emotions.

Slowly, he raised his head and found her gaze.

“Hello, Addie,” Deke said, speaking for the first time in seven years the name of the woman he’d loved—and left.



He knows, Addie thought wildly. He knows about Jace. But perhaps that was all he knew at this point.

She had to get both herself and Jace safely away, though, from the force that was Deke Larrabie.

“Jace. Come on back here, hon,” she said as calmly as she could, holding her hand out to her son. Thankfully, he came, although the whole way he craned his head around to stare at the stranger as if he were Duke Wayne in the flesh.

Once he’d reached her, she couldn’t prevent herself from pressing him close to her side, obstructing his sight of the stranger. Or was she blocking Jace from Deke’s view?

His eyes were only for her, though, as he started toward her. Amber-green, eerie in their detachment, yet as intense as ever.

In fact, everything about him was more intense. More…Deke-like. He’d always filled out a Western shirt and pair of Wranglers in a way that was uniquely, devastatingly him. Had always worn a Stetson at that exact angle, pulled low over his eyes, in a way that had her believing the cowboy hat had been invented just for him.

Now, though, he wore everything with even more command, so that the fit of the shirt stretching across those wide shoulders, the cut of the jeans hugging those long legs, even the shade over his eyes created by his hat’s wide brim—all of them seemed branded by Deke Larrabie…as she once had been, and as her son now was.

It took every bit of her willpower to silence her heart, which continued to beat against the walls of her chest like a captive hostage, because she knew that the real moment of reckoning had yet to come—the one in which she’d discover why Deke Larrabie had really come back.

Whatever the reaction showing on her face, at least it stopped him ten feet from her and her son. Addie seized the advantage and pressed it home while she could.

“All right, hon.” She brushed back Jace’s thick, burnished-bronze hair. “You don’t have to go with us to Houston if you don’t want, but then you need to go help Granddad in the office.”

“Why?” Jace stalled, pulling away from her, his questioning gaze trained on her face.

Her own eyes remained on Deke. She almost expected from him a lightning move or sleight of hand that would snatch away some precious belonging, leaving her feeling dispossessed and bewildered by what had happened and how.

But that had already occurred, hadn’t it?

And, by God, it wouldn’t happen again.

“Do as I say, please, Jace,” Addie said more sternly, giving the boy a helping push in the right direction.

“I’m not leavin’.” He planted his booted feet in front of her.

Exasperated, she glanced down. Her son had sure picked a fine time to go from running away from conflict to hanging tough. She wondered whether to kill him or kiss him, but she knew that her first order of business must be to protect him.

“Please, hon,” Addie said, trying for a reassuring smile. “I’ll be all right.”

“But you know him, don’tcha, Mama?”

“Yes,” she said, praying he’d take the rest of her answer on trust. Yet how could you convey such a feeling if you’d given it up a long, long time ago?

“Then, who is he, Mama?” Jace asked. “Who’s that man?”



The boy’s question was like a wake-up call, breaking the spell he’d been under.

Deke found his feet moving from the spot where Addie’s warning look had riveted him. He started toward her again, still not knowing what he would say, how he would say it, if he should say anything at all. Regardless, any explanation Addie chose to make shouldn’t have to be made alone.

He stopped in front of her, trying hard not to put a label on the nature of the emotion radiating from her. Trying not to anticipate his own reaction.

Yet the sight and sound and smell of her filled his senses to the brink. Her eyes were even bluer than he remembered, the shade of blue that could bolt a man to the wall or drown him in desire. That flaming red hair spilled over her shoulders in a thick flow, like lava over a mountainside, as it swirled and waved with a life of its own. She wore a form-fitting skirt and short jacket in yellow, making her look as out of place as a daffodil sprung from the winterscape—and yet fitting as much as she ever did the definition of Texas ranch royalty.

Of course. He’d been the one who hadn’t fit in here. Sons of alcoholic cowboys who were surviving only by the grace of such royalty weren’t included in that class. Especially after his father had repaid the Gentrys’ kindness by letting a hundred-thousand-dollar ranch building burn to the ground around him, too drunk to save it or even himself—although, in truth, he’d already been dead inside for years….

At the thought, Deke felt his heart speed up, like a time bomb inside him just waiting to explode.

No! He must remember: Sure, he was D.K. Larrabie’s son. And yes, they bore the same name. But he was not his father. This D.K. Larrabie had set his every fiber to taking charge of his future, just as he’d set his mind to becoming the best damn ranch manager in Montana.

“Might be best to do as your mother says,” Deke said, trying to help Addie out.

“Yeah?” The youngster stared up at him with a mixture of youthful hope and distrust that again spoke to Deke of his own boyhood. “Who are you to tell me what to do?”

“Jace!” Addie clutched him to her almost frantically.

Deke heard the outright panic in her voice and realized she hadn’t answered the boy’s question because she didn’t want their son to know who he was. She looked not the least inclined to respond to either question put to her—this one, and Who’s that man?

So what had she told their son about his father? For the first time, it struck Deke that for six years he’d had a son. And although he had taken off for parts unknown, why hadn’t Addie or Jud tracked him down and let him know?

For that matter, why hadn’t Jud seen fit to tell him when Deke had called? And from the looks of it, it seemed Addie was as surprised to see him as he was her.

What the hell was going on here, anyway?

Deke didn’t want to jump to conclusions without having all the facts, but still he couldn’t resist asking, “Why not answer the boy, Addie? Or have you forgotten exactly who I am?”

She leveled a look at him with eyes of glacial blue.

“Go on along now, Jace,” Addie said, her gaze still on Deke. “If Granddad doesn’t need you, I’m sure the boys can use your help dosing calves out in the west pasture.”

“But what’s going on?” the boy protested. He’d turned back to his mother. “Mama?”

She soothed her palm over his hair in a loving gesture that made Deke’s own hands tingle with the remembered warmth of touching his son. “I’ll explain things to you later, when there’s time. I promise.”

Seeing she’d have no more words on the matter, he turned back to Deke, who knew this time that keeping his mouth shut was going to be the winning ticket. For now.

When he realized that neither adult would give up anything while he remained, the boy muttered a resigned “Yes, ma’am.” He marched over to his hat, dusted if off with a whap against his thigh, then screwed it down on his head in a gesture of pure disgruntlement before heading in the direction of ranch HQ.

The ensuing silence fell like a deadweight between them.

Addie shifted on her feet, one long bare leg thrust forward, hand planted upon her hip, looking cool as cubed ice and just as frosty.

It took him aback for a moment, after the way he’d seen her with her son. That had been the Addie he remembered: passionately unreserved and loyal to a fault with those she cared for deeply.

And therein lay the danger.

“Didn’t mean to intrude on your conversation with… Did you call him Jace?” And Deke spoke his son’s name for the first time, even in his mind.

“Yes, it’s Jace,” Addie replied, lifting her chin. “Short for J.C.—Judson Charles Gentry.”

Deke absorbed the fact. So Jace had been named after his grandfather and not his father. But Jace also went by a shortened version of his initials, just as Deke was short for D.K.

It was a meager concession, but he’d take it.

“Well, he seems like a real fine kid,” he commented.

“Normally, he is,” she replied, fist still on her hip. “But you’d have to be blind not to see just now that he’s a confused boy who’s struggling to make sense of some of the changes in his life and comin’ up short all around. Which is why I’ll thank you to let me handle it myself—just as I’ve handled everything for six years now.”

Abruptly, she turned and climbed the steps to the old gazebo that had been her mother’s pride and joy. Not that Deke had known Addie’s mother, who’d died, as had his own, when Addie was just a girl. But the structure had become a kind of memorial to the woman—one, he knew, to which Addie had often come to connect with her mother.

Of its own volition, his gaze went to the gentle rise at the far edge of the ranch yard, where grew an ancient cottonwood tree, its contour lopsided as if a giant mouth had taken a bite from its branches. Standing to one side was a crumbling chimney.

At the sight, Deke’s heart gave another of those warning thumps. Fine, he’d let her have her space, but he wasn’t going to be put off so easily. He waited until she sat on the wood bench seat to say purposefully, “It sure didn’t have to be that way, Addie—you takin’ care of Jace’s needs by yourself.”

“Didn’t it?” she asked, her rich alto voice gone bone dry with sarcasm.

He’d let that one go. “So what did you tell him about me?”

“The truth. That his dad and I split up before he was born.”

In what struck him as another avoidance tactic, she leaned forward to slide her feet out of her high-heel shoes. Except, it worked this time. The movement caused her neckline to gap and exposed the upper swell of her full breasts.

And abruptly plunged Deke headfirst into another memory—of holding her in his arms, his lips pressed to that very spot. Then, however, Addie had been skinny as a fence rail. At considerable peril to himself, he’d called her Boney Gentry—when he wasn’t teasing her with his other nickname for her. Wasn’t whispering it while he made love to her that first and last time, before reality thundered down on top of him in a suffocating avalanche, just as it was doing now.

Because somehow he’d been able to convince himself over the past half-dozen years that the passion he’d known with her hadn’t been as powerful as he remembered. He saw now, however, how he’d methodically bleached all the intensity out of those feelings, allowing him control over them.

You are in control, he told himself. But he needed to keep his distance if he was to hang on to that control.

His jaw clamped reflexively, and Deke scrutinized one of the gazebo’s peeling posts, blue faded to gray. “And that’s all you told Jace?”

From the corner of his eye, he saw Addie examine her muddy shoes as she held them before her, elbows on her knees.

“No, it wasn’t—”

Her voice had turned businesslike, he noticed, as if she, too, needed distance.

“I told him his father had chosen not to be a part of his life.”

“You what?” he asked, deadly low.

“I had to, Deke. I couldn’t have him pining his heart out over a man I had no appreciation would ever return, much less be able to give us—Jace, I mean—what he needed.”

“So he’s grown up believin’ his daddy never cared enough about him to stick around.” He noticed his own voice sounded calm. “But that was obviously not true, because I didn’t know, Addie. About Jace.”

Idly, he slid the pad of his thumb across the husked surface of the railing. “You could have found me and told me about him. I’d’ve come back and lived up to my responsibility to him.”

Now, that got a reaction, for Addie sprung from her seat and in an instant was across the plank floor and hovering over him.

“You don’t think we tried?” she asked, shoes clenched in either hand, her blue eyes blazing down at him. “Daddy had just about every rancher in the Southwest keepin’ their eye out for you for nine solid months! If we couldn’t find you, Deke, it was because you didn’t want to be found!”

No, it hadn’t taken long for her indifference to dissolve. For some reason, he was relieved that at least that aspect about her hadn’t changed. Yet something else had changed about Addie, something he wasn’t able to pin down yet.

So deal with it, Larrabie. Deal with just that one comment.

He drew in a deep breath and blew it out through loosely pursed lips. “All right. I deserved that.”

“You deserve a hell of a lot more, and you know it,” she said with a chilliness that rivaled a blue norther.

That’s when he was able to put a label to the real change in her. It was there in her features—not an icy coolness so much as just the opposite. A hardness, to be sure, but more like that of something left too long in the sun.

In his years on the range, he’d seen many people who had, by design or necessity, let the relentless sun cook their skin to a leathery brown. It was leather, tanned and oiled as any cowhide stitched together to make a pair of chaps.

Not that Addie’s skin had weathered the same way. Indeed, it was still as white and smooth as ever, with only that sprinkling of freckles to mar its creamy surface. Rather, it was the particular look of being over-exposed to the harsh glare of life’s disappointments that had baked anything tender or flexible or trustful right out of her expression.

That, it occurred to Deke in another bolt of realization, was the real legacy he’d left to her. And the one he had most desired to spare her of.

The enormity of his failure sliced into him, razor-edged as the blade of a newly whetted knife. Somehow, though, wasn’t a sharp, clean cut better than being on the jagged side of such pain? Sure, a rough cut wasn’t as deep, but it caused a lot more damage, a more painful wound and an uglier scar as each shark’s tooth made its notch in tender flesh.

But God, how to explain that to Addie?

Grasping the post, Deke swung himself up on a level with her so he could look her square in the eye. “That’s what I’d been thinking about you when I left. That you deserved a hell of a lot more, a hell of a lot better, than what I’d be able to give you.”

She took a step back even as she retorted, “Oh, what a crock of bull! You obviously wanted to leave!”

“It’s the truth,” he persisted. “It wouldn’t have been good for either of us for me to stay, not after what happened…”

Say it, damn it! I didn’t want to leave at all! I had to, though, because I knew if I didn’t I’d end up like my father, maybe not in the same way, but just as completely, totally lost.

He tried again. “There’re things you don’t know about what happened that night. That’s why I’m here. You’ve got to believe me. This wasn’t the situation I meant to leave you in—”

“Oh? And what would have been a suitable situation to leave me in?” She gazed at him, the pain he knew now that she’d only been hiding from him stark in her eyes. “You gave me your promise, and when you did, I gave you my trust in return. My innocence. And you took it and left without a word. So now you’re wonderin’ why I kept to myself the one thing you did leave me?”

Eyelashes batting, she made a half turn away from him, a bid, he could see, for control. Even so, her voice shook as she went on. “Well, you can just go to hell, Deke Larrabie. You gave up any say about anything having to do with my life when you left me and the Bar G seven years ago without a backward glance. I had to protect my son, and I’ve got no regrets for doing so.”

“He’s my son, too.” Deke fixed her with a resolute look. “Neither of us has said it straight out like that, have we? But yes, Addie—he’s my son, too. Now that I know about him, you’ve gotta see there’s no way I’ll shirk my responsibility to him.”

“And there’s no way I’ll let you just blow into his life, announce you’re his father, then leave again!”

She graced him with as cynical a look as he’d ever seen in his own mirror. “I don’t know why you’ve come, anyway. Surely no one’s got a gun to your head, makin’ you stay. Besides, why do anything different? That’s the Larrabie way, isn’t it? Always lookin’ for the exit sign.”

Oh, but that cut him! Like the jagged rasp of a hacksaw. The hell of it was, her barbed words almost had him turning on his heel and hitting the highway.

And that’s exactly what she wants, he realized. Addie didn’t want him to know his son, didn’t want Jace to know who he was. And he couldn’t help concluding that it was for the same reason she had told Jace his father was never coming back. Because she saw Deke as being made in the image of his own father—an irresponsible cowboy rambler and rover.

Or, in Deke’s case, a card-carrying cowboy leaver.

Which caused that timer inside him to speed up again in that dangerous tick-tick-tick, of the second hand edging ever closer to…to what?

To nothing! Deke told himself. He was Jace’s father, damn it! No matter what had happened between the two of them, he deserved to know his son, deserved a chance to be a father to him!

Maybe that had been Jud’s plan: to bring Deke on to do some troubleshooting and give him the opportunity to know Jace while he was here. But if so, there was still a puzzle piece missing, because Addie had just said she didn’t know why he’d come to the Bar G, and it had obviously been a surprise when he showed up.

“Jud didn’t tell you, did he,” Deke said abruptly.

She went as wary as a cat. “Tell me what?”

And God help him, he couldn’t help taking some satisfaction in informing her. “He hired me as a ranching consultant to put the Bar G back on solid ground. Which means I’m here to stay, Addie.”




Chapter Two


A ddie felt as if she would be sick right there in the ranch yard, her thoughts were whirling around her head so fast, while hurt and betrayal flip-flopped in her stomach.

“Daddy hired you?” she asked through numbed lips. “That’s why you came back, to be a ranch consultant?”

“That’s right—me, Deke Larrabie.” His gaze had gone back to that stoniness that was frightening, so different was he from the emotionally charged twenty-two-year-old she’d last known. Just a split second before, though, she’d seen the spark, hot and fiery, leap to his eyes.

Yet make no mistake: The endearing rough edges of the half-boy, half-man she’d fallen in love with had been whittled away and sanded down, so that little showed that wasn’t meant to be seen.

Yes, that boy was gone. But she’d come to terms with that fact seven years ago. Hadn’t she?

“I don’t know what Daddy was thinkin’, telling you there was a job for you to do here,” Addie said desperately, trying to come up with some valid arguments while not knowing the terms Deke and her father had discussed. It was difficult to concentrate for just that reason. What had her father been thinking? Why would he take such a step behind her back? Sure, they’d discussed whether a ranching consultant would be able to do anything for the Bar G that she couldn’t do herself, given the time and the money. Which of course they’d have once she’d married…

Connor.

Sheer panic hit her like a tornado. She had to get Deke out of here before—

But it was too late. In the distance, a fire-engine red dual-wheeled pickup sped along the blacktop toward the Bar G.

Addie stepped closer to Deke, hoping to keep him from turning to see what had caught her eye.

“First of all,” she said quickly, “the Bar G’s already got someone capable of revamping its operations—me. I’ve been practically runnin’ the ranch since I was eighteen.”

“Then, why would Jud think it necessary to bring me in?” Deke asked with all reasonableness.

“I don’t know!” Oh, but she intended to find out the next time she saw her father! “Second, we’re just breaking even right now, which means there’s no room in the budget to put anyone else on the payroll.”

It near to killed her to admit such a thing, but she was desperate. The dually was turning under the lintel sign at the end of the lane.

Deke had an argument for that one, too. “Jud and I agreed I’d be workin’ without pay for the time being,” he said, adding quietly, “I thought it the least I could do to make up for the damage my daddy caused seven years ago.”

For the moment, Addie forgot all about the red pickup. “We don’t need your charity, Deke Larrabie!”

“Then, you’ll understand real well why I couldn’t hang around here those years ago and take yours without raisin’ a word of protest,” he replied with that maddening calm.

No way would she let him turn the fault back on her!

Yet Addie closed her eyes against the tide of emotion that rose in her at his words, for even now the memory of that night could make her weep with unconditional sympathy. She’d never forget Deke’s face, streaked with sweat and soot, as he stared at the smoldering wreckage containing his father’s remains, in his hand the empty bottle of Jim Beam that moments before Mick Brody had shoved at him in disgust. Still filled with the power of the bond she and Deke had just forged between them, Addie had felt the last particle of her heart that hadn’t already been his go out to him.

Yet, then came the other memory, just as heart-wrenching, of when she’d laid her hand upon Deke’s arm in silent comfort, and he’d bent upon her that sightless gaze—in which she’d seen the kind of devastation she could only imagine—before turning away from her, shutting her out like the door of a vault slamming shut.

Addie pressed the back of one hand against her lips. Suddenly, it all seemed too much to handle. She didn’t care that the damp had crept through her clothing to her skin, had invaded her very bones. Didn’t care that in her fervor she’d gotten a swipe of mud on her skirt from her shoes, still clutched in her hands. Didn’t care that she looked like anything but a woman on her way to pick out her wedding ring with the man who would place it on her finger and give her the security, if not the all-encompassing emotional connection, that she so craved.

It was a choice she made gladly, because she’d had the other—and while it had been as wild and exhilarating as a Texas thunderstorm sweeping through her heart, it had left just as quickly, with nothing for her to do but pick up the pieces alone.

Yes, she must remember: such emotion wasn’t worth the heartache.

Addie opened her eyes and gazed at the man who’d caused that heartache. “Maybe you did think you were doing what was best for me by leaving, Deke. And maybe you’re hoping that by coming back you can make up for…oh, for a lot of things. Like helpin’ out the Bar G to make up for your daddy’s accident. The problem is, there’re some things you can’t make up for. Because the thing I can’t forgive you for is that you never let me decide what was best for me. You took that choice with you when you went away. And when you did, you took away Jace’s choice, too.”

Addie spread her arms in front of her in a simple gesture. “This time I have a choice, and I mean to use it by doing what’s best not only for me, but for my son.”

Gripping her shoes in her hands, she pointed them both straight at her heart. “Yes, my son, Deke. I will not let you turn Jace’s world on end.”

She almost believed he hadn’t heard her, he seemed so caught up in his thoughts, those amber-green eyes boring into her, yet looking at a place only he could see. When their focus clouded, then came back to her, the expression in them was haunted.

“I’ve got no intention of upsetting Jace,” he finally said. “But I’m not leavin’, either.”

She saw he was dead serious. Deke Larrabie, the man who’d left her then so easily, now wouldn’t budge an inch. She’d find the irony amusing if it didn’t make her want to cry.

Because she saw, too, how very, very difficult it was for him to stay.

“Look, Deke,” she said, trying one more time. “If you’re truly serious about wanting to make up for some of the pain you’ve caused us, then leave.”

The shiny red dually pulled up a few yards behind Deke. “Now. Please.” She couldn’t keep the urgency from her voice.

“No, Addie.” Shaded by the brim of his hat, his face looked carved in stone. Yet set within the stone, those eyes glittered like gems. “This time, I’ve got a choice, too—and I’m choosing to stay.”

“Then, I can’t let you reveal who you are to Jace, Deke,” Addie said fiercely. “I can’t let you do him that way! Promise me right here, right now, that you won’t, not without my say-so. You owe me that much.”

He looked about to argue, and her heart stopped. Then he gave a nod, making the promise. “I won’t tell him.”

Deke seemed to realize at the exact moment she did, what had just transpired: Once again, he’d given her his word. And once again, she would have to give him her trust.

And where was the choice in that? she almost asked him but didn’t. There was no time, for just then the door of the truck opened and out stepped Connor Brody—the man who would be her husband.

And Jace’s dad.



Deke turned at the sound of a vehicle door slamming to see a man in a Western-cut sport coat, stand-up stiff blue jeans and spit-shined ostrich-skinned boots. When he doffed his white Stetson, the sunlight glanced off the shine on his dark hair and clean-shaven face, while at the same time carving out the Clint Black-deep dimple in his cheek.

There was something familiar-looking about the guy, but Deke couldn’t put a finger on it.

“Mornin’, darlin’,” he said, sparing not a glance toward Deke, the smile on his face all for Addie.

Deke’s antennae sprung to full alert. He shifted an assessing eye toward Addie, who was pushing her hair back from her suddenly flushed face. What was going on here?

“Mornin’,” she answered. Obviously not wanting to make introductions, she went on briskly. “I’m all set to go.”

The man glanced toward the house. “What about Jace? Isn’t he—”

“No! No, he’s not fit company this morning.”

She wouldn’t look at Deke, which made him even more suspicious. Who was this city slicker to Jace, anyway?

He sure looked disappointed, some aspect in his downcast face making Deke wonder again where he’d seen him before.

“Well, shoot. He ought to be with us, y’know, when we make our decision, if we’re going to start out like a real fam—”

“No!” Addie interrupted again. “Believe me, we’re better off lettin’ him get out whatever burr’s under his saddle on his own. So! We’d better get on the road. Don’t want to be late for our appointment.”

It was pretty apparent to Deke that Addie wanted to be shed of him as quickly as possible. Hopping from one foot to the other, she shoved her toes into her high heels while trying to get past him without so much as a by-your-leave.

The man gave a huff, which distracted Deke again with that sense of familiarity he’d be damned if he could place.

“Well, sure, but how about a hello kiss from my fiancée first?”

That sure enough came through loud and clear. His fiancée?

As luck would have it, Addie’s heel caught in a crack in the plank floor, and she stumbled beside Deke.

He bent down to pull the heel out, just as Addie stooped to do the same, his gaze seeking hers, hoping he was wrong.

Her face was even more flushed than before. She refused to meet his eyes.

Damn her! he thought as the reason for her guilt became abruptly clear to him: she intended to slot this guy into place as a father for Jace—and just seconds ago she’d extracted his promise that he wouldn’t tell Jace he was the boy’s father!

“I guess I’m not used to wearin’ these shoes,” she mumbled by way of an excuse.

He wasn’t going to let her get away with it. Even knowing he shared some blame for her situation, that he hadn’t the least right to be anything approaching angry, Deke still was. Deathly so.

“But somehow you seem to think you can fill mine for Jace pretty well, don’tcha?” he said.

That brought those blue eyes flashing up at him in defiance. Straightening, she lifted her chin before descending the steps to reach her boyfriend’s side.

“Of course you get a hello kiss—darlin’,” she said sweetly, offering him her lips.

Obviously about as mashed for a woman as a man could get, the fellow wrapped his arms around Addie and enthusiastically pressed his mouth to hers.

Sure, Deke could have made as big a show of not watching. He wanted nothing less than to give her the satisfaction of knowing she’d gotten to him in this instance.

But the truth was, he couldn’t have looked away if his life depended upon it, and so he stood there in a hell of his own making, as this man with his shiny boots and country-singing-star looks kissed the stuffing out of Addie Gentry.

Finally, she broke the kiss and turned toward him, the other man’s arm lingering at her waist. It did Deke some good to see in her eyes the defiance, and not the look of a woman who’d been thoroughly and satisfyingly kissed.

He held her gaze without a flicker of emotion.

Her intended finally seemed to notice the silent byplay between them, for he spoke up. “I don’t believe we’ve met. Connor Brody’s the name.”

If he’d been stunned before, now Deke felt his blood stop dead in his veins. “Brody? Any relation to—”

“Mick Brody? He’s my dad.”

Of course. Of course. If Addie had wanted to put a fine point on just how unsuited the two of them had been for each other, she couldn’t have done a better job than to pick a Brody. He’d never met this particular Brody before, but he’d once had more acquaintanceship than he wanted with Connor’s father, Mick. And from the looks of it, Connor had all the qualities his father had been swift to point out as lacking in Deke’s father and Deke, foremost among them responsibility.

No! He had been responsible—if not in those hours leading up to D.K. Larrabie’s fatal mistake, then every single day after that. And if Addie would just give him the chance, she’d find that out!

Except, from what she had just said, he had no chance of gaining her regard or her forgiveness. The very thought that he couldn’t, nearly sent him back down the road again, in spite of everything.

But he couldn’t go. Whatever his failings before, that didn’t excuse him from doing his best by Jace from here on out.

And that meant he’d be damned if he’d stand by while she handed any man the right to be a father to his son.

“And you would be…?” Brody asked after the lengthy pause.

Deke couldn’t have invited a better opening if he’d laid it out himself.

“Well, seein’ as how you asked,” he drawled, “I’d be—”

“Don’t, Deke,” Addie said in a warning that had just enough pleading in it to stir his conscience.

The problem was, she should have stopped there. But in her urgency to keep him from spilling the beans, she stepped forward as she said it. She stumbled again, this time as she caught the toe of her shoe on the gazebo step, which propelled her straight into Deke’s arms.

Her breasts came flush up against his chest as she grabbed his shoulders for balance and his fingers grasped her waist. He just barely heard her gasp over his own stifled groan.

Holding Addie the woman as opposed to Addie the girl was as different as night and day—and yet as familiar to Deke as the fit of his leather work gloves. Because every time he’d ever stroked the back of his fingers across her cheek, every time he’d pressed his palm to the small of her back, every time he’d trailed his mouth down her throat and beyond—all came rushing back to him like the wind across the plain. He had no time to set his defenses against the familiar yearning that quickly followed.

Their gazes collided as surely as their bodies had, and Deke saw in Addie’s blue eyes what he hadn’t minutes before: desire, as strong and stormy—and undeniable—as ever.

He’d have felt some satisfaction if the sight hadn’t pushed his own desire even higher.

Deke gritted his teeth.

“Deke, please, don’t,” Addie whispered, still clinging to him. “Don’t stir up any more trouble.”

“I stirred up trouble?” How could he have imagined her being hardened? She was anything but, as soft as a down pillow and as pleasurable to sink into. “Damn it, Addie, you’re marryin’ a Brody?”

“Addie?” Brody said from a few feet behind her. “What’s goin’ on here?”

“Let me explain things to him myself, please,” she begged Deke. “Remember, you made me a promise. You wouldn’t break it again so soon, would you?”

“That promise was for Jace’s sake and you know it!” Deke said, in a low voice.

She had no response for him, only staring up at him in mute appeal, blue eyes shimmering.

“Why only nine months, Addie?” Deke demanded out of the blue, as would a man grasping at straws. But he had to know. “Why’d you give up lookin’ for me after just nine months?”

“Why seven years, Deke?” she whispered as insistently. “Why has it taken you seven whole years to come back?”

Damn but it was quick, that wicked sharp blade of guilt slipping between his ribs, cutting through nearly a decade’s worth of defenses, so that he’d have done anything to rid himself of the pain.

Then Deke’s gaze fell to Addie’s lips, still glistening from the kiss of that Roy Rogers wannabe—and a Brody to boot. The sight sure enough bought him a measure of reason.

“What’s that sayin’, Addie?” Deke murmured. “Somethin’ like, Those that can’t run with the big dogs shouldn’t come off the porch.”

He didn’t voice the other bromide that had sprung to mind: All’s fair in love and war.

He set her away from him and gave the now thoroughly stumped Connor Brody one of his friendliest smiles.

“To answer your question, I’m the new ranching consultant at the Bar G,” he said.

He let the relief just barely touch Addie’s expression before he added, “The name’s Deke Larrabie.”

Brody frowned. “Larrabie? You mean you’re…?”

“That’s right—Jace’s long-lost daddy, come back to stay.”



Connor’s expression of stunned hurt tore a patch of anger through Addie a mile wide—yet failed to entirely uproot her own culpability.

Even though Connor and his father were very different, she could see why Deke would take particular issue with the fact that she’d have anything to do with Mick Brody’s family, considering Mick’s scathing condemnation of Deke and his father the night D.K. Larrabie died.

Of course, everyone also knew Mick had never gotten over it when D.K. ran off with his intended bride years before. Not many county folk had blamed Mick for getting a bit of his own back, even if it couldn’t have been done at a crueler time.

But what better reason was there to bury such ancient history for good! Connor wasn’t to blame for his father’s actions any more than Deke was for D.K.’s.

She noticed Connor concentrating on straightening the silver conchos on his braided leather hatband in the removed manner she’d come to recognize as his way of closing off his doubts about her feelings for him—and Jace’s objections to him as his new father.

Blast it! She should have gone with her first impulse and hustled Connor away from the Bar G so she could make her explanations to him in her own way and time. But no, she’d had to provoke Deke, practically waving a red flag in front of him.

It had cost her, too, with that inadvertent contact between them that had shocked her in its intensity. And rekindled feelings in her she’d thought herself well shed of.

But it’d always been that way between them as they egged each other on, almost dare-like. On the upside, they had spurred each other forward to chart new territory, develop new skills and face down fears. On the downside, they’d urged each other on to greater and greater heights of expressing the kind of passion that was born out of a pair of natures that had never known defeat in their young lives, and so had no reason for caution.

No, Addie was forced to admit, Deke was not to blame for a lot of things, including her own reckless surrender to him.

“You could have told me, Addie,” Connor said quietly, bringing her out of her thoughts. “That you’d hired Deke Larrabie to take over the work we were going to do together on the Bar G.” He lifted his head and shot Deke a challenging glance. “And to take over the job of Jace’s father in place of me.”

“Connor.” Addie reached for his hand, giving him her most sincere look. “First of all, Deke showin’ up this morning was as big a surprise to me as it was to you—and Jace. And second, nothing’s changed of our plans.” She squeezed his fingers. “Think about it a minute. You know one of the things that’s been so important to me is that we get the Bar G’s future taken care of while gettin’ you settled in running the Tanglewood after we’re married. Deke’s being hired to do some troubleshooting? Well, that’s a temporary thing, as far as I’m concerned.”

She couldn’t even think of glancing at Deke, she was so put out with him. Connor didn’t deserve this. So theirs was no great love affair. She was very fond of him. And sure, he might lack in ranching skills, but he was steady and willing to do what it took to succeed—and she truly believed that with time Jace would come around to appreciating that. She and Connor had even discussed giving her son time to get used to him and not pushing Connor in the role of father, given the issues that had come up about Jace’s real daddy.

Which brought her back to her own responsibility in this morning’s little drama.

“As for Deke being Jace’s father, well, I know we’ve never really talked about it, since it’s pretty much common knowledge around here, except to Jace—” Addie took a deep breath and admitted frankly, “and Deke. He only just today learned himself that he was a daddy.”

Connor let go of her hand and leaned back on the front fender of the pickup truck, now clearly confused—and, she could see, completely disillusioned.

She guessed if anyone here had a right to be, he did.

A sparrow landed in a nearby puddle and made a production out of taking a bath. The rain had finally let up, and the sun beat down on the three of them as they stood in a silent triangle.

Addie lifted her hand, rubbing her forehead. She knew that further explanation was needed, just as she knew that the damage done to everyone involved was not going to be easily repaired. It felt, however, as if the burden of making that effort rested primarily on her—as had the past six years during which she’d struggled to raise a child, look after a failing parent, and keep the family business profitable.

What other choice did she have, though?

With longing, she turned her gaze to her mother’s gazebo. She hadn’t taken advantage in a long while of the steadying, perspective-building influence this special place had always provided her. She was simply too busy, with a million things to get done, and a million more to think about doing.

Oh, Mama, how I miss you!

Not for the first time, Addie wished for someone to turn to who might provide her with support. Not necessarily someone to bail her out, nor even someone to lean on. Just someone to…be there—to share the burden.

Addie slowly became aware of Deke studying her with that eagle-sharp gaze of his. Dropping her hand, she didn’t bother to hide from him every bit of her world-weariness and discouragement.

And so she was surprised when he took a step forward, his own expression no longer challenging but decisive.

“Look, Brody, I’m as much in the dark as Addie about why Jud never mentioned to her about hiring me back on the Bar G,” he said. “Maybe he’s thinkin’ Addie could use a little help herself—what with her marrying and moving and all—with keeping the Bar G going. Or maybe he just thought that bringin’ a fresh pair of eyes to the ranch might be good for it, as it nearly always is in any business. You can be sure I intend to ask Jud what his plans are, first opportunity I get, and I’d recommend you and Addie do the same.”

Tipping his hat back a notch, he took an appraising look around the ranch yard and beyond. “I’m willin’ to evaluate the operation and give my feedback for how the ranch might be run more efficiently and profitably, whether I’ll be involved in that effort or not. That’s for y’all to decide.”

His gaze came back around to them, and Addie realized she was being treated to yet another side of Deke Larrabie she’d never seen before. “I will say in Jud’s defense that whatever his plans, you can rest assured he hired the right man to do the job. In the past five years I’ve revamped operations on ranches twice the size of the Bar G, so that now they’re well into the black.”

Connor straightened in surprise. “Well, thanks, Deke. That’s sure big of you—you know, considerin’.”

“No thanks needed,” Deke said tersely. “It’s my job.”

Then he squared off in front of both Connor and her, but Addie knew Deke’s message was for her alone. “As for bein’ Jace’s daddy, you can be sure I’m as prepared to handle that responsibility, too. I know you’ve made some plans of your own along those lines, but I’m here to tell you that I expect you to revise them to include me.”

His face was a study in fierce determination, and its aspect was so undiluted Deke Larrabie that it caused a frisson of fear to sizzle up her spine, even before he said, “Or believe me, I’ll take without askin’ what’s rightfully mine.”

He gave the brim of his hat a tug down in the front, making his eyes stand out even more starkly against his tanned face. “Now if you’ll excuse me, until I hear different, I’ve got a job to do.”

Stunned speechless, Addie watched him stride with purpose to the building where the ranch office was located.

Who was that man who’d just sized up the situation and taken charge of it? Certainly not the Deke Larrabie she’d known before—except for his single-minded focus that in the past she’d experienced only as directed at her, making her feel as if she were the only other person in his world.

Yet she’d also experienced the loss of that all-exclusive focus, and it had nearly been the end of her.

She shivered suddenly, even in the claustrophobic heat. Deke had certainly sounded as if he meant business about taking responsibility for what was his. For Jace’s sake, she’d have to be very careful.

And for her own sake, as well. Because somehow Addie got the feeling that Deke Larrabie’s definition of what was his included her.




Chapter Three


D eke stepped into the Bar G Ranch stable. Amazingly, it looked the same as it always had.

Bridles and reins were hung neatly on pegs along one wall. Opposite was a variety of other horse tack and cowboy gear—harnesses, ropes and such. Just beneath, a row of stock saddles, including a hand-tooled one Deke knew to be Jud’s pride and joy, sat on their racks. The pungent scent of leather and horse sweat rose up to meet his nose, making him yearn abruptly for that feeling of a well-trained horse galloping beneath him, a rope in his hand and a runaway steer trained in his sights.

At the thought, his gaze searched the rigging for one item in particular. His spirits lifted when he spotted it: a coiled catch rope, its color a dull brown from thousands of encounters with the dusty necks and dirty hooves of as many beeves.

Deke lifted the lariat off its peg, looping the coil over his right hand while taking the twisted nylon between his left thumb and forefinger. Its surface was taffy smooth, its girth still with just the slightest give, even after all these years.

No, neither had it hardened completely in his absence.

He lifted his head, and his gaze went unerringly to the doorway in the opposite wall leading to the small room off the back. Wondering when he’d developed such a masochistic streak, he drifted closer to push open the heavy door and see inside.

Light from a small, high window cast a beam onto the bunk directly under it. The narrow berth traditionally served as a place where the weary cowboy could take a break from roundup or catch a few winks while a mama cow struggled through a difficult birth. For Deke, however, this was where he’d made fumbling, awkward love to Addie Gentry.

Awkward, yes—but oh, every moment had been pure heaven.

“Checkin’ to make sure you haven’t hooked up with a shoddy outfit, are ya?” The voice echoed in the open space.

With the quick pass of his palm over his face, Deke turned. “Not the Bar G, Jud. Everybody knew you’d send packing the cowboy who let one horse go untended or one cow without care.”

“You got the right of it.”

Leaning heavily on a cane, Jud Gentry shuffled forward to take Deke’s hand and shake it. Deke pretended not to notice how weak the grip had become, how faltering and uneven his step.

Jud Gentry wasn’t an old man, by any means. But it had been clear enough ten years ago that his Parkinson’s disease was progressing quickly. Anticipating the day when he’d need to turn over the bulk of managing the ranch to someone both he and his daughter could trust and depend upon, Jud had picked Deke’s father to groom for that role.

The whole county had thought Jud crazy as a loon.

In true Gentry fashion, he cut to the chase. “Thought I’d come see for myself the cowboy my grandson said showed up and got his mama half riled.”

“That would be me,” Deke admitted.

“Figured.” Jud sighed. “I wasn’t expectin’ you for another couple of weeks, so I guess you can understand why your appearance here was such a surprise—to everyone.”

“Finished the job up north and didn’t see the harm in coming on down early.” Deke decided as long as they were taking their conversation neat, he’d give it a shot. “I’d’ve given you some warning, Jud, if you’d given me some.”

The older man hobbled over to the rigging-filled wall. “T’weren’t my news to tell. I’ll admit I’m to blame, though, for putting off apprisin’ Addie of the arrangement we’d made. I was waitin’ for the right moment. But I guess there really ain’t a good time to break the news to a daughter that the father of her son is returnin’ after seven years away.”

“Nope.” Deke studied the slab floor underfoot, determined not to be put off by the hint of accusation in Jud’s tone. “Nor tellin’ a man he’s been a father for about as long.” He lifted his head. “Why, Jud? Sure, I’m to blame for bein’ scarce, but why’d y’all stop lookin’ for me after nine months?”

Jud’s gaze was direct. “Because of Addie, of course. Oh, she didn’t want me looking for you from the first, but that was because she was sure you’d come back of your own accord.”

“She was?” Another lightning-quick jab hit his vitals.

“Yup. But after the months wore on, with no sign of you and not one clue as to where you’d got to, somethin’ changed in her.” Turning, Jud straightened a halter one inch to the left. “As I said, though, that’s her story to tell. And why, when I got that call from you about the troubleshootin’ job I’d advertised, I didn’t mention Jace to you. I figured, though, that since you’d made contact, you’d a right to know about him. ’Specially now.”

“You mean with Addie marrying Connor Brody.”

Deke’s tone had been even, but Jud must have caught an edge, for he said, “I didn’t expect that’d set well with you. But much as I don’t blame you your reaction, I still won’t have you puttin’ Addie in the middle of settling an old score with the Brodys. I’m not fond of Mick myself, don’t trust the man one lick, but Connor’s a good sort. You hear?”

“I hear,” Deke said. He wasn’t exactly happy himself with his contentious and, yes, even jealous behavior earlier with Addie and Connor. Jud was right. Clearly, Connor Brody wasn’t in the same league as his father, and Deke would be as bad as Mick to hold the guy to account for something he’d had nothing to do with. Moreover, Addie was moving on with her life; he’d no right to get in the way of her happiness.

Of course, this time he didn’t have the choice of trying to prevent such a fate by leaving.

“So why did you bring me on as a consultant?” he asked.

Jud peered at him from under bushy eyebrows the color of steel and rust. “I’ll be straight with you, son. We’ve never fully recovered from losin’ that breeding facility to fire—” he held up a hand to arrest Deke’s apology “—which is neither here nor there. But if we’ve survived at all, it’s Addie’s doing.”

The craggy lines of Jud’s face softened. “She’s one top-notch rancher herself. Strugglin’ to come back after the fire, though, it’s made her pretty cautious. There’s lots she wants to do here, but she’s set on the Bar G not goin’ another penny into debt.”

Deke chewed the inside of his cheek. “I don’t know your thinking on the subject, but ranching is by nature an occupation of risks. Too much caution’ll kill you as much as too little.”

Jud came back dryly. “Try tellin’ Addie that. You know how headstrong she can be when she gets a notion ’bout something.”

Deke nodded tersely. If he hadn’t seen that determination just now with Addie, he’d certainly known it from before. Except then, the momentum had been the opposite way, forging through adversity—not digging her heels in to put on the brakes.

He supposed that was another sign of that legacy he’d left her with.

“That’s why I’m thinking that once she marries the Brody boy,” Jud continued, “it’ll be the natural thing for the two ranches to share resources to complete some of the improvements on the Bar G that Addie’s of a mind to make. Which, I’ll be frank, don’t set too well with me.”

He at least looked apologetic as he slanted an enquiring look at Deke, meant to see if they were on the same page—although Deke sensed there was some information Jud was omitting.

“But you can’t expect her not to take the Brodys’ help without givin’ her some options. Right?” Deke said.

Jud gave a terse nod.

Absently, Deke fingered into place the honda that made the loop of his catch rope. “Mind, I don’t know what her plans are, but there’re a number of ways to up a ranch’s productivity and guard its assets without it costing a bushel, and I’d be happy to help you and Addie evaluate and implement any and all of them.”

He shot Jud a telling glance. “That is, you, Addie—and Connor. I can see you have your doubts about me, but I’m here to tell you I’m a professional. Still…you may as well know, Jud—Addie’s asked me not to tell Jace I’m his daddy, and I felt I owed it to her to give her my word.”

He gave the loop a testing twirl, stirring the thick air in the stable. “But I’m not about to let any man try to be a father to my son without me getting a fair crack at it, too.”

He held Jud’s gaze steadily, and after a few moments came away with the feeling that, even if he might still have his issues with Deke, they understood each other as men who were doing what they had to do—as fathers.

Knowing he had at least that understanding from Jud helped to ease the wound-up tightness in Deke’s chest. But then, Jud didn’t know the whole story, either. Or, rather, not yet.

A trio of steps took Deke to the doorway of the stable. He scrutinized the scenery beyond, including that rise with the crumbling chimney beneath the towering cottonwood.

“Speakin’ of dads…that fire never would’ve happened, y’know, if I’d been keeping an eye on mine,” he said quietly.

“Now, Deke. The fire was purely accidental.”

“But the accident happened on account of Dad’s fallin’ off the wagon.” Doggedly, he made himself go on. “They found the empty whiskey bottles in his pickup.”

“So they did. That don’t mean any of D.K.’s drinkin’ was your fault,” Jud declared from behind him, then said with a sigh, “If only he hadn’t lost your mama…”

Deke’s jaw went rigid as he tried to swallow back the pain that crowded his throat. He’d known his return would call up all manner of feelings. He’d thought himself past this strong a reaction, however. Apparently he wasn’t.

“I know better’n anyone the reason for my dad’s undoing,” he said. “You don’t have to go into it for my edification.”

“Well, now, maybe I do—for myself. ’Cause I understand how a man’s grief can eat at him so much he’d need to numb the pain any way he can. I lost my wife, too, at a young age. And Addie a mother. That’s why I encouraged your friendship with her.”

Jud’s words had Deke again seeking the scene on the slope. There were other words, though, that needed saying.

“And I betrayed your trust by takin’ advantage of your daughter, then leaving her high and dry, didn’t I.”

The older man said nothing, which was answer enough. Then Jud heaved a heavy sigh. “Hell, I knew why you had to go, Deke. T’wouldn’t have been good for you to stay, no matter what, with your daddy’s mistake hangin’ over your head.”

“For what it’s worth, Jud,” Deke said, gaze still trained on the slope, “I always intended to return and make up for my dad’s fatal mistake. And finally I’ve got the training and experience I didn’t have when I left, to make a real difference to the Bar G.”

He turned. “But I’d never’ve gone if I’d known about Jace,” he said with a low fierceness. “No matter what.”

“I know, son,” Jud said, his blue eyes full of understanding.

Which made it more impossible than ever for Deke to reveal his own fatal flaw, discovered that sundering night, when it had occurred to him the reason D.K. had sought the numbing oblivion of liquor on that particular eve: He had needed to wipe from his mind that it was the anniversary of his wife’s death.

When the realization had hit Deke, the terrible fear it had roused in him—and not any yearning to be his own man—was what spurred him away from the Bar G. Because he knew why he’d forgotten that date.

He’d forgotten because there’d simply been no room in his own mind that evening for anyone or anything but Addie Gentry.

And if he still felt so desperately betrayed by his own will, could there be any hope on earth of her ever forgiving him?

With that thought, something made Deke look around.

There at the doorway stood Addie. And the answer to his question. For in her face he glimpsed again that legacy he’d left her—a loss of hope and trust, but most of all, a loss in the belief of the redeeming power of a man’s love for a woman.

Or was that the legacy that had been left to him?



Addie went still as the bottom dropped out of her world.

Oh, what a fool she was! A fool and a fraud, if only in her own heart. For she’d heard Deke’s fervent words, quite obviously spoken from the bottom of his own heart: I’d never’ve left if I’d known about Jace. No matter what.

So he’d never have left—because of Jace. Would never have come back now—except for the debt he owed her father. Not for her. How could she have hoped or wished or believed differently?

Because…once upon a time, he’d made her believe his promise, so much that even when she’d discovered he’d gone, she’d refused to contemplate that she could be wrong about the man she loved. Even when she’d discovered she was pregnant.

And when her father had set out a search for Deke, he’d done so against her wishes as she faithfully clung to the belief that Deke would come back of his own accord—because of his promise to her.

Even when Jud’s efforts had proved fruitless, indicating that Deke clearly hadn’t wanted to be found. Even then, she’d held out hope with every fiber of her being.

It wasn’t until the night she’d first held her son in her arms, and looked into eyes that were so like the father who hadn’t given any of them the chance to prove their love, that she’d faced the truth: Deke Larrabie was not coming back.

She had thought him the kind who stayed, but obviously he wasn’t the man she believed she’d fallen in love with.

Addie looked up to find Deke’s cat-eyed gaze upon her, its intense focus as seductive as ever.

She lifted her chin, defiant.

“I thought you were goin’ to town with Connor, darlin’,” her father said, breaking the silence in the stable room.

“I changed my plans,” she answered, stepping inside. She still wore her yellow suit and those infernal high-heel shoes, which she was of a mind to use as hole spacers in Opal’s garden patch. That was all they were good for. “And I thought I’d better find out what’s goin’ on with the Bar G that I need to know about. Or am I consigned to fence-sitting when it comes to runnin’ this ranch—and seeing to my son’s welfare?”

She arched an eyebrow at her father, who gave back as good as he got. She still didn’t know the whole story behind Deke’s hiring, but trusted her father would never do anything to deliberately hurt either her or his grandson. Jud had stuck by her through the abyss of Deke’s leaving, and it had been her one sustaining anchor. Of course, that didn’t mean there weren’t occasions when she could chew a railroad tie in two for sheer aggravation with him.

He no doubt felt the same way about her, too, sometimes.

“Believe me, darlin’,” Jud said, “I surely intended to fill you in on my hirin’ Deke. He wasn’t supposed to get here for another couple of weeks.” He leaned heavily on his stock saddle where it rested on its rack. “I’m sorry to have given you such a surprise. I never meant to.”

“But why didn’t you consult me before hiring him, Daddy?” Addie asked, crossing her arms. “You owed me that, I think.”

“Now, darlin’, we did talk about hiring a troubleshooter—”

“And I felt then as I do now, that I’ve got the ability to bring the Bar G solidly back into the black.”

She refused to look at Deke as he stood there, once again privy to a private family conversation and keeping her from asking her father the real questions she wanted to. Why? Why, of all people, did you bring back Deke Larrabie, the man who broke your daughter’s heart?

But then, deep down, she already knew the answer to that one.

To his credit, Deke was at least making a pretense of not listening to their discussion as he ambled out the wide doorway of the stable, idly spinning his catch rope.

She couldn’t help but watch as he swung a loop over his head, then to one side, then the other, as always his movements smooth, his technique flawless, his rhythm pure poetry. If truth be told, it had been his magic with a lariat that had won her heart, so much was it like the courtship between two lovers.

“Adeline.”

Tearing her gaze away, Addie met her father’s eyes, as keen as always.

“You’re still the go-to man on all the decisions about the Bar G,” he said. “That hasn’t changed and won’t. You know that, don’t you?”

Exasperatedly—lovingly—she studied him as he stood there, hand upon his saddle, its horn still wrapped in inner tube rubber from his working days…days when he’d been in charge and in command himself, no dispute. She had always seen herself as being cut from the same cloth as Jud Gentry: fearless in carving out new territory in ranching, perhaps not literally but in the spirit of their ancestors who’d set down roots in these parts over a hundred years ago, hoping to build a future.

But she was also a woman who’d had some of the choices for her future taken away from her.

“Daddy,” Addie said as gently as she could while still being completely honest, “I just don’t think the Bar G can handle another Larrabie rainmaker coming in with big promises and taking big risks, then leaving everyone else to pick up the pieces.”

“That won’t happen, Addie.”

This had come not from her father but from Deke, his attitude no longer casual as he stood in the dim light from the doorway. He was back to that intensity, again bent upon her.

“How do I know that, Deke?”

“It won’t,” he vowed. “You’ve got my word.”

“But you made such a promise to me once before,” Addie said, still without accusation, just speaking the truth she knew. “A promise to stay. Then you left.”

“I came back, though,” he responded with that maddening certainty. “Here I am. And this time, nothing’ll make me leave.”

He swung the loop around, the gesture automatic, she was sure, but did he have to do it at that moment? Did he know how mesmerizing, how seductive it was to her?

How it made her want to give in to more than just his will?

“Look at it this way—what could it hurt, Addie?” Deke said. “I’m not charging y’all for my time. And you’d have the final say in anything that gets done.”

What could it hurt? Oh, everything and everyone! Jace, for instance. The boy was searching right now. Searching hard. And who knew what he’d find if she let it happen? Or was she the only one who saw the danger on the horizon, coming at them all with the inevitability of a swarm of locusts?

Or was that still the danger within her? Because she’d seen the spark of challenge leap to Deke’s eyes earlier today with Connor. Had seen the spark of desire there, too.

The mere prospect of it had Addie running scared, for she’d once held nothing back from this man, so much so that when he left, it felt like going from swimming in an ocean of emotion to being stranded on a parched, barren desert, where you’d have sold your soul to taste just one drop of those feelings again.

She simply would not—could not—risk taking one step in that direction again.

Yet once again she was being asked to give her trust. And once again she hadn’t much choice but to give it, whether she wanted to or not.

For at that moment Jace rounded the corner of the doorway and stopped dead at the sight of three adults in the midst of one serious discussion.

“Hi there, hon,” Addie said quickly, holding out her hand to him, needing literally to take him under her wing to try to protect him, one last time.

But it was too late. Something had caught Jace’s attention. Fascinated, he came a few feet closer to where Deke stood on the threshold of the stable, on the threshold of their lives.

“Could you teach me how to rope, mister?” he asked, looking up at Deke.

And it was the way Jace said those words, soft and uncertain and more like the little boy he’d been a few months ago, that made Addie wonder if perhaps she was the one who was being shortsighted here.

Except, at the same time the sight of the two of them yearning toward each other almost without conscious thought drove that sense of danger in her even higher.

She was helpless to halt its progress, though, as Jace continued. “Y’see, mister, no one else around here can, but you could, ’cause…well, ’cause, you know, you’re like me.”



Deke’s fingers clenched reflexively on the lariat in his hand. For a wild moment, he wondered if somehow he’d already unintentionally broken his promise to Addie.

His gaze flew to hers in question, in apology, and he saw fear within her blue eyes, too, but not for the same reason.

“What Jace is saying,” she explained, her voice neutral, “is that Daddy and I, and the rest of the boys, have had the devil of a time tryin’ to teach him to rope.” She hesitated. “He’s a southpaw, you see.”

“Yeah.” The boy nodded, his hat still screwed down on his head, Festus-style. “That’s what I meant. I’m a southpaw.”

“Well, fancy that, Slick. So’m I,” Deke murmured, as first pride then regret filled him at discovering yet another trait his son shared with him. It drove home to him the loss of six vital years with Jace that he could never, ever get back. And brought back old insecurities that seemed to turn upon themselves like a snake swallowing its own tail.

No, he had no intention of betraying Addie’s trust in him. Even so, he couldn’t have made himself leave that stable right then if they’d made it a felony.

Lord, but it was a revelation to him, the look of his son. He saw so much of himself there that he’d never even realized belonged to him. The unbending tilt of his chin. The resolute set of his mouth. The vigilance in his eyes with which he gauged a changeable and uncertain world.

And since Jace had always had the constancy of home and other family, Deke knew there could only be one cause for that sort of measuring watchfulness in a boy.

The second hand governing his heartbeat sped up again.

“First say a proper hello to Mr. Larrabie, Jace,” Jud said. “He’s one of the best ranchin’ troubleshooters around. We’re lucky to have him come to work on the Bar G for a while.”

Deke sent his silent thanks to Jud for his support. It helped, especially when Jace asked, “Is that your name?”

“Yup,” he confirmed, trusting Addie would see no harm in revealing that much. “Deke Larrabie. You can call me Deke.”

“So will ya teach me how to rope, Deke?” Jace asked with that mixture of hope warring with doubt in his eyes—and overriding them both a hunger that Deke was oh so familiar with.

He cut a glance at Addie. She stood with her arms crossed, one of those long legs of hers extended to the side as her weight rested upon the other. She evinced no reaction, and he guessed that was as much of a go-ahead as he could expect from her. Or as much trust as he could expect.

He had to come through for her.

“Got a piggin’ string, Slick?” Deke asked.

The boy practically dove for the short, thin rope neatly coiled and hanging on one of the lowest pegs on the wall. He held it up for Deke’s inspection. “Granddad already taught me how to take care of it proper.”

“Well, that’s the first thing a cowboy’s got to learn—how to keep his gear in top condition. All right.” He took a stance side by side with Jace. “The key to ropin’ is startin’ with a well-built loop, like so.”

One at a time, he methodically measured an arm’s length of rope, then laid it across his right palm, making uniform coils.

Tongue tip tucked over his top lip, Jace copied him. Deke approved with a nod. “Now, once you got a good loop in hand, you can practice your throwin’ technique. You mind givin’ us a target, Jud?”

“Not a’tall.” The older man held his cane up like a sword.

Deke gave a few twirls above his head, then let the rope sail, laying out the loop in a perfect circle that slipped over the cane all the way to Jud’s elbow before touching his arm.

Jace gave his rope a few shaky spins and let it fly, missing Jud’s cane by a mile. His face fell to the cellar.

“Give it another go, Slick. ’Member, it’s all in the wrist.” Deke demonstrated, overdrawing his actions for Jace’s benefit.

The boy’s next try was better, and his next better still, as the loop of his rope caught the cane’s tip.

It was all Deke could do not to give Jace’s shoulder a squeeze of approval. He settled for a praiseful “Now you’re getting it, Slick. I knew it wouldn’t take you long to catch on.”

The boy’s smile at him from under the brim of his ten-gallons-too-big hat was heartrendingly naked in its yearning.

A lump the size of a melon crowded Deke’s throat. He was almost ashamed to enjoy his son’s regard, it had taken so little effort to win it.

“There’s already a Larrabie here, y’know,” Jace said out of the blue. “Out under the cottonwood. You know him?”

The watch spring in Deke’s chest gave a tightening twist. “That was my daddy,” he replied matter-of-factly.

He wondered what had compelled Jace to ask another of those surprising questions, but was fast learning that, much like his own interest, there was nothing aimless in Jace’s, including the boy’s next question, posed as he let sail with another try at heading Jud’s cane.

“So you’ve been here to the Bar G before?”

“Yup.” Deke dared not glance at Addie or Jud, rather than risk seeing their disapproval of this attempt, indirect as it was, to connect with his son. “Before you were born.”

He was halfway to regretting his stab at getting to know Jace, when the boy said, “I know.”

Perspiration broke out across Deke’s forehead. “You do?”

“Yeah.” Jace concentrated on hauling his rope in. “Mama tol’ me about how your daddy got caught in that big ol’ fire here on the Bar G. What’d you call it, Mama? A terrible, um…”

Deke’s gaze connected with Addie’s. She still wore a mask of neutrality, but her voice was soft as she answered, “A terrible tragedy…for everyone.”

Deke supposed he should thank her for that, considering what she’d been going through, both then and now.

“That it was, Slick,” he murmured as softly. “That it was.”

“Why d’you keep callin’ me Slick ’stead of my name?”

Deke tore his eyes from Addie. More than the others, this question seemed completely out of left field. He could only ask Jace in return, “Why, do you mind it?”

“But a slick’s a calf that ain’t got a brand yet. I got a brand.” Deke didn’t miss the challenge in the boy’s voice. “I belong here at the Bar G—”

“Jace,” Addie broke in. “You’ve taken up enough of Mr. Larrabie’s time for today—”

“I’ll never be a Tanglewood man, no matter if Mama marries Connor Brody.” Jace rushed on as if he’d never heard his mother, his attention focused on Deke. “That won’t make him my daddy, y’know!”

Deke set his catch rope carefully aside. “I guess not, if you don’t want it to,” he answered Jace, trying for Addie’s neutrality and obviously coming up short, for in the next instant he heard her warning “Deke, please.”

It was Jace, however, who had no qualms about taking a stand. “So did you know him?” he demanded.

“Know Connor?” Deke stalled.

The boy’s own catch rope got tossed to the wayside. “No—know him, from before.”

Deke shot Addie a glance of pure apology, which she returned, he saw, with one of regret—that she had let it go so far, that she had let him so far in. For at that moment, Jace, no longer either wary or hopeful but something in between, squared off in front of Deke. He had to admire the boy’s gumption, even if he was suddenly disconcerted to find as sharp a scrutiny on him as he’d ever bent upon critter or human.

That’s when something told Deke his son wasn’t talking about either Connor Brody or D.K. Larrabie.

Still, he had to ask, “Did I know who, Jace?”

“My daddy!” Jace said impatiently. “Did you know my daddy?”




Chapter Four


D eke kept his poker face, but just barely, as the impact of the question pulsed through him, tick-tick-tick.

“What…what do you know about your dad, Jace?” he asked slowly, his mind going ninety miles a minute as he tried to sort through what Jace really wanted to know, and what he himself could say. Because even though he’d made a promise to Addie, he saw now that there was no way on earth he could lie to his son.

“That he left afore I was born,” Jace answered. “That he din’t want a hand in raisin’ me.”

“Is that… Do you think that’s what he wanted?”

The question, which Deke had to allow was evasive as all get out, must have struck his son the same way, for Jace’s expression shut down. “I don’t care! It doesn’t matter, anyhow. I don’t want any daddy, ever. I sure don’t need one.”

Then, for some reason, the boy’s anger turned on Deke. “We don’t need you, either. Mama and me can run the Bar G fine without anybody’s help. So you can leave!”

Deke steeled himself against the rejection and the pain as his mind whirled madly. His promise bound him as surely as any straitjacket, but he had to come through here, had to give as good as he got.

He dropped to his haunches so he could face his son squarely, putting all the sincerity he had at his disposal into his gaze. “I don’t doubt that you can, Jace. The thing is—”

He paused, torn. Yes, he’d given Addie his word, and just like the other, long-ago promise he’d made to her, he would keep it.

He had to, or he’d be lost forever.

“The thing is, Jace,” he said slowly, “I’m not leavin’.”

The youngster froze for half a second, then lunged at him, grabbing handfuls of his shirt and pulling furiously. “But we don’t want you here!”

Deke was taken so off guard that he was drawn forward to his knees before he had a chance to catch his balance. When he did, though, it was by clasping his fingers around Jace’s upper arms, just as he had earlier.

The contact seemed to send the boy into more of a frenzy. He released his hold on Deke’s shirt, only to come at him with a flurry of fists.

“We don’t want you here!” he cried. His hat flew off his head backward. “Just go, now!”

“Jace, please—”

A stray punch struck Deke in the Adam’s apple. If he hadn’t had any appreciation for what Addie had had to deal with earlier, he sure enough had it now, big time.

The boy was frantic, seemed himself pulled by two opposing needs. Oh, yes, Deke knew the feeling all too well. And it would eat you alive if you let it.

“Wait a minute.” He tried again, fingers still clamped on Jace’s arms. “What’s this all about?”





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