Sara Orwig - The Consummate Cowboy

She nodded.

“We have company, Rebecca. This is your Aunt Emily. Aunt Emily, this is Rebecca, who is now four years old.”

Rebecca looked around and Emily felt the direct, assessing stare of the child.

Emily smiled. “Hi, Rebecca,” she said softly.

Rebecca blinked, tightened her lips, and turned her head against Zach, burying her face against his chest. She pulled her blanket up to hold it close.

Zach stroked her hair gently, and Emily was amazed again by the change in him. She was beginning to wonder what had possessed him to many Amber, but then all she had to do was think about Amber. Men were always dazzled by her. All men. Zach looked as red-blooded as they came.

“Sometimes she has bad dreams,” he said quietly, his breath blowing against wisps of Rebecca’s red curls.

“What do you do about the children during the day when you work?”

“I hired a woman to help with the kids. She lives in a small house on the ranch. During the week and on Saturday morning she stays until I get home. Vanessa Galban. The kids call her Nessie.”

“Then do you take care of them on Saturdays and Sundays?”

“Don’t sound so amazed.”

Embarrassed, she shrugged and looked down at Rebecca in his arms. “She’s asleep.”

“She’s a restless little sleeper.” He raised his head to look at Emily. “I’ll take her back to her bed. There’s an extra bedroom. You’ll have to wait while I make up the bed, but you can have that room.”

“Just give me the sheets and I’ll make the bed,” Emily said. She stood and carried her glass and his bottle to the counter. “I’ll get the light.”

He shifted Rebecca in his arms and went to check the lock on the back door. He switched on an alarm and then turned to join her.

“You’re careful,” she said.

“Not careful enough. If I had been on my guard, you wouldn’t have gotten so close to the house. I have yard lights, but I stopped bothering to turn them on at night. I’ll go back to it, now.”

“You’re worried about prowlers?”

“You should be more careful,” he said, avoiding an answer to her question and coming to stand only inches from her. She could detect the faint smell of beer on his breath. “You don’t know what your sister is involved in. I still think you should go home to Chicago in the morning.”

“No, I can’t.”

He shook his head and turned for the hallway. “Come on. I’ll put Rebecca in bed and get your sheets.” As he started out of the room, Emily picked up the scrap of paper the bartender had given her, then switched off the kitchen light.

Leaving Emily waiting in the upstairs hall, Zach carried Rebecca to bed. Then he returned to remove sheets from a linen closet, and directed her to a bedroom. Switching on the lights, he moved to the four-poster queen-size bed. Emily glanced around a room that held a hodgepodge of furnishings, a bookcase filled with books, a cedar chest, an armoire, a small chest, and a rocker.

“Unfortunately, this is an old house. There are only two bathrooms here—a small one connecting Becky’s and Jason’s rooms, and a big bathroom connecting my bedroom and this room. You can lock the doors when you’re in it.”

“I’ll manage.”

“I’m sure you always do,” he said quietly, looking down at her. Her head came up. He touched the tip of her nose lightly with his finger. “You look like the capable type.”

“I’ve had to be. I’ll make up the bed.”

“Here,” he said, flipping back a comforter. “We can both get it made in half the time.” He snapped a fitted cover over the corner of the bed, while she bent to fit the opposite corner. They worked together efficiently. But she had to make an effort to concentrate on the sheets, and ignore the flex and play of his muscles as he bent and stretched. In minutes the bed was done.

“I’ll get you one of my shirts. It ought to make a good enough nightshirt.”

He strode through the bathroom door and in seconds was back to toss a chambray shirt on the bed. “I think I can find a new toothbrush. It might be a child’s size because I keep extra for the kids. There’s a cabinet in the bathroom with towels and washcloths. Help yourself.” He crossed the room to face her. “It will be bedlam in the morning when the kids are up. For the last time I’ll say it—you should get in your car first thing and go home to Chicago.”

She shook her head.

“Stubborn green eyes,” he said quietly, looking down at her. She stared at him intently, and he felt as if he were sinking in quicksand. With every word he was getting more involved in her life. “If you have to look for her, hire a P.L”

“I have to do this myself. I can’t go home without knowing something, or at least trying my best to find out where she is.”

He shook his head and started toward the bathroom.

“Zach,” Emily said quietly, her curiosity about him returning. “You live behind locked gates and high fences. People in town say you keep to yourself. You have an alarm and yard lights. Are you hiding from someone? Is there anyone who would hurt Amber to get at you?”

Zach clamped his lips together and turned back toward her. She felt her insides tighten, felt a premonition of disaster. She almost wished she could take back her question. He looked grim, as if he were holding in check the smoldering anger she had first seen in his eyes.

“Sooner or later, I knew I would have to tell you.”

Three

“Jason is not my son.”

“What?” Emily stared at him, thinking about the little boy who looked like her own child. “Except for his brown hair, he looks exactly like Rebecca.”

“They have the same mother. Your sister had an affair with another man.”

“Great saints,” Emily said, closing her eyes. She looked at Zach, who gazed at her with impassive eyes. Yet a muscle worked in his jaw and she knew every word hurt him.

“There are rumors in town and I’m sure people know who Jason’s father is. But I love Jason. I’m raising him as my son and claiming him as my son.”

“That doesn’t explain the locked gates.”

“Amber had an affair with Stoney Fogg. The Foggs are no-good, worthless, boozing troublemakers. Never big trouble—moonshine, petty theft. They’re chronically unemployed, lazy. Old man Fogg and his wife regularly beat each other up. He’s a drunkard. When Amber had the affair with Stoney, she and I had already stopped living together as man and wife. She was bored. If she hadn’t gotten pregnant, she would have left me sooner.”

Zach raked his fingers through his hair, the strands springing back and some locks falling across his forehead. “She and Stoney had a wild, rocky relationship. When he learned she was pregnant, he didn’t want any part of the baby and left town. Later, after Jason was over a year old, Stoney came back and he and Amber ran away.”

Emily gave a small cry and rubbed a hand across her eyes. Zach was startled. He frowned, wondering whether she was acting for his benefit.

“You should know your sister by now—and not be surprised,” he snapped.

Her head came up. “She’s so casual about what I hold sacred. I’ll never have children and it hurts to hear about Amber’s coldness toward her own.” She drew herself up. “Go on. I interrupted you.”

“I divorced her,” he answered, only half thinking about what he was saying. Emily had said she could never have children. He wondered why. “Later Stoney came home without Amber. She never married him, and I heard she married someone in Mexico.”

“She did. This past year she called and said she was Mrs. Raimundo Morales.”

“Yeah, well, last year, Stoney decided he wanted his son. I don’t think he wanted Jason as much as he wanted to aggravate me. Stoney and I have crossed paths before, and I once caught him with Amber. We fought and I took Amber home.”