Renegade Father (9 page)

It wasn't like she would never see him again—she could comfort herself with that—but at the same time she knew that any encounters would be sporadic and painfully brief.

Her stomach trembled whenever she thought about how gray and colorless her days would be without him. He would leave a huge, jagged tear in the fabric of her life.

Joe had been part of her existence as long as she could remember. Most of her best memories were tied up with him—riding fence together, dry-fly fishing the Madison, listening to him recite the stories of his people he learned from his mother.

She wanted him to share those stories with her children. Rubbing at her stomach as if she could take away the ache there, she sighed softly. It was only a quiet sound but it was enough to wake him. He had always been a fitful sleeper and his time in prison had only heightened that. Now he went from sleep to consciousness instantly, his long dark eyelashes opening without so much as a flutter.

He gazed at her then at the dog, then muttered an uncharacteristically pungent oath. “I must have fallen asleep.”

She hid a smile at the self-condemnation in his tone. “Looks that way.”

“Is Dolly all right?” He whispered so he didn't disturb the dog.

“Sleeping soundly,” she whispered back. “Graham's treatment seems to have worked.”

He raked a hand through his thick, dark hair. “I'm sorry, Annie. I was supposed to be watching her, not snoozing away.”

She arched an eyebrow at him. “You were
supposed
to wake me up so I could take a turn at nurse duty instead of trying to stay up all night by yourself.”

“I didn't have the heart to wake you. Not when you were snoring away so enthusiastically.”

Her heart flip-flopped in her chest at the familiar teasing grin she rarely saw anymore. Sweet Lord, she had missed it, so much that she didn't even mind the old jibe. He and Colt always used to try to convince her she made enough noise to wake the dead.

“I do not snore,” she said primly.

His gaze shifted to her pursed mouth, then caught there. To her shock, a strange, murky look suddenly gleamed in his eyes. If that same look had appeared in C.J.'s gaze, she would have kept one eye on the cookie jar and the other on his itchy fingers.

Why would Joe be looking at her as if she possessed something he had suddenly developed a powerful craving to have?

He swallowed hard, a muscle flexing in his jaw, and it took her a few stupid moments to clue in.

He was looking at her as if he wanted to kiss her!

Now it was her turn to swallow, and for the life of her she couldn't figure out how to respond. She was probably misreading things anyway. Joe could hardly stand to touch her most of the time.

Thorny disappointment bloomed in her stomach when he cleared his throat and shifted his gaze away
from her toward the window, where dawn began to climb over the mountains dressed in pale rose.

“Guess I'd better head back to the house so I can catch a shower before tackling the morning chores.”

She looked down at her hands. “I need to be getting the kids up for school in a few moments or they'll miss the bus.”

He tugged his boots on, then stood to leave. She held a hand to stop him before he walked out of the room, needing to say so many things but knowing she could only focus on one of them. “Joe, I…thank you,” she said softly.

He shifted uncomfortably. “For what?”

“Everything. For being so willing to go out in the cold to help me search for Dolly last night. For taking care of everything when I was too upset to think straight. For staying even when I told you I didn't need you to.”

“It was nothing.”

“Not to me.” She smiled up at him and once more his gaze caught on her mouth. Instantly the mood shifted back to that strange tension of a few moments before.

“Dammit, Annie,” he growled. “Don't look at me like that.”

She blinked. “Like what?”

“Like you're wondering what it would be like if I kissed you.”

Heat soaked her cheeks. He started it! He was the one who had been staring at her mouth like it was a triple-decker strawberry ice cream cone he couldn't wait to dip into. She would have kept all her wonderings to herself if not for that.

“You're crazy,” she lied. “I wasn't thinking anything of the sort.”

“Yeah? Well, I was.”

He growled something that sounded like “God help me” and then he leaned slowly, adamantly forward.

H
e couldn't be about to kiss her. She must have misheard him. Joe always acted about as remote and uninterested around her as if she had no more appeal to him than one of her horned Herefords. It simply wasn't possible!

But she couldn't argue with the dip of his dark head or the subtle sway of his body toward her. She had time only for a quick, shocked intake of breath, for a hard kick of her heart, and then his mouth was on hers.

She spent just an instant trying to puzzle out why he would be kissing her, what she had done to deserve this incredible, unexpected gift, then she was lost to the wonder of it.

It was the perfect kind of kiss: not too hard, not too soft but in some heavenly place in between.

In the nearly fourteen years since the first—and only—time he had kissed her like this, she had forgotten nothing. Not the glide of his mouth against hers or the
warmth of his breath or the sheer emotional onslaught of his touch.

All of it was imprinted on her synapses, burned into her memory. To have him kissing her again, to be in his arms once more like this, seemed like some kind of miracle. Like one of those surreal, heavenly dreams adorned with hearts and flowers, where everyone smiled and treated each other with kindness.

The kind of dreams she never wanted to wake from.

The kiss was gentle—slow and thorough and lovely—and she wanted to cry from the beauty of it.

She had no idea how long they stood there in the middle of her family room floor. It could have been a few seconds or several moments. She completely lost track of time, mindless to the furnace whooshing to life, to the tired creaking of the old house, to Dolly's soft, even breathing.

To everything but Joe's mouth, his touch, his heat.

He made a sound against her lips—it might have been her name, she couldn't be sure—then he tangled his fingers in her hair and started to deepen the kiss.

She parted her lips, welcoming him, just as a small squeak of floorboard upstairs rang through the room like a foghorn. At the sound, Joe's mouth froze on hers and he drew in a ragged breath.

Don't stop. Please don't stop.

But she knew he would. Even before she opened her eyes, she knew he would.

Her gaze met his and she watched the hazy blur of desire in those black depths shift abruptly to shock and dismay.

With another ragged breath, he stepped away from her and the room suddenly felt impossibly cold.

“I've got to…I should…”

He shoved his hands into the back pockets of his old, soft jeans. “I need to go.”

She nodded. She couldn't think straight right now with all her emotions a huge, overwhelming jumble.

For thirteen years she had been careful to keep her feelings to herself. He hadn't wanted her love; she had known that even as she had given herself to him so many years ago.

He cared about her, she knew that and he had certainly wanted her, at least that day. Maybe he even loved her a little in his own way. But like the red-tailed hawk, Joe soared the air currents of his life in solitude. He always had, even when he was a small boy, and she knew nothing she did would ever change that.

He might have given his friendship to her and to Colt but there was always a part of himself he kept separate from them, a part he would not allow them to touch. Maybe the part his father had scarred forever with his cruel words and his even more cruel fists.

But he was the one who had stepped forward, who had said he wondered what it would be like to kiss her and then had acted on that, and she didn't know what to think about it.

She didn't have time to wonder. The footsteps moved to the stairs and before Joe could put on his coat and Stetson, C.J. padded into the room, his pajamas wrinkled from sleep and his dark hair sticking out every which way. He looked completely adorable, in the way only a sleepy-eyed little boy can manage.

He hadn't come far in the room before he caught sight of Joe and immediately stopped in his tracks. “What is he doing here again?”

Annie frowned at his belligerent tone of voice.

“We've talked about this,” she answered sternly. “Your uncle is welcome here any time he wants.”

C.J. glared back at both of them. She met him glare for glare, not willing to tolerate rudeness from him even though she knew it stemmed from pain. Her son lowered his eyes first and his gaze landed on the blanket-covered dog lying as still as death beside the woodstove.

“What's the matter with Dolly?”

She didn't want to frighten him by telling him Dolly might have been poisoned. He had seen more than enough ugliness in his young life and he certainly didn't need to be exposed to more, especially when she could hardly believe Dr. Thacker's suspicions herself.

She cleared her throat. “She's sick. That's why Joe was here, he helped me with her after the veterinarian came last night.”

Fear widened his eyes. “Is she going to—”

“She'll be fine.” Joe stepped forward and laid a hand on the boy's shoulder. To Annie's surprise and relief, C.J. didn't shrug off the comforting touch.

Maybe he might be able to find it in his heart to forgive his uncle's desertion after all. She dearly hoped so. These last eighteen months had been wonderful for C.J., finally having a decent, caring male in his life. She would hate for Joe's chance at a new life to cost him the little boy's love.

“She'll be just fine,” Joe repeated. “Doc Thacker is the best vet around and he and your mom will take good care of her. Matter of fact, your mom's got a lot to do. Maybe you could help her and the doc out. Sort of be the veterinarian's assistant.”

C.J. narrowed his gaze at Joe, intrigued but wary. “How?”

“When you're sick, it can be real real nice for someone to sit beside you and talk to you in a low, soothing voice. Maybe tell you stories or sing you songs.”

Her heart squeezed painfully in her chest at his words. Had anyone ever done such a thing for Joe, even when he was a little boy? She seriously doubted it. Albert Redhawk would have considered such tender concern coddling, something he wouldn't have tolerated toward his boys.

“My mom does that when I'm sick.” C.J. blurted out the words, then blushed as if afraid it might not be manly to admit it.

Joe shifted his dark eyes from her son to Annie, the expression on his face unreadable. “You're a lucky kid to have such a good mom,” he said in a low voice, still looking at her.

After a few beats, he turned back to C.J. “You think you could do that with Dolly when you come home from school?”

C.J. didn't even take time to answer, just dropped immediately to the oatmeal-colored carpet next to the dog. Dolly opened her eyes and weakly brushed her tail against the floor, then rubbed her head against the leg of C.J.'s pajamas.

A smile caught her mouth when her little boy laid a comforting hand on the dog's side. He then proceeded to recite his favorite story—
The Tin Soldier—
in a quiet, soothing voice.

He was a good boy. She had screwed up a lot of things in her life but at least she had done this right. Despite the occasional problems—like Leah's recent run of bad grades and bad attitude—both of her children were sweet and caring at heart.

Things could have been, much, much different. If she
hadn't finally summoned the strength and will to escape from Charlie, she cringed to think how they might have turned out.

She glanced at Joe and found him watching the boy and the dog, tenderness softening his normally remote features. Her smile widened. He was so good with both of the children, always treating them with patience and respect even when they didn't deserve it.

He would have been a wonderful father.

The thought slithered into her mind and she drew in a quick breath, pushing away the familiar prick of guilt. She had wanted to tell him, had wanted desperately to let him know he had left her with more than just a broken heart that day on the banks of Butterfly Lake. She had never had the chance.

If she hadn't been so stupid and naive, she might have found a way. Things might have been so very different. But before she could explore her options, before she could gather the courage to find him and let him know about the child she carried, Joe ended up in jail for killing his father and she had ended up his brother's wife.

“You should have told me,” Joe said suddenly. For one terrified second, she thought he had guessed the truth.

“T…told you?”

“That we had our own qualified veterinarian already on staff.” He grinned at C.J. “Why have we been paying Doc Thacker so much when C.J. here obviously could have done the job?”

The boy snickered. “I'm not a veterinarian.”

“No? Well, you seem to be giving that little border collie just the help she needs.”

Through her sudden angst, Annie forced a smile of
agreement. The dog's tail-wagging
did
seem to be a little stronger and she had even found the energy to stick out her tongue so she could lick his hand.

“Can I stay home from school and take care of her? She likes it when I tell her stories.”

She gave Joe a “now look what you've started” look and shook her head. “You have a spelling test today you can't miss, honey. I'll watch her while you're in school, I promise. As soon as you come home you can take over. Deal?”

C.J. nodded happily, just as Joe shoved on his Stetson. “You want to tell her a story, too?” he asked, with more enthusiasm toward his uncle than he'd shown since the day he announced he was leaving. “You could tell her a story. I bet she'd like that.”

“Maybe later. Right now I have to get out and feed some cattle or they're gonna start eating the fences.”

With one last long, searching look at Annie that told her he was thinking of that brief, stolen kiss they had shared, he shoved on his Stetson and walked out of the house.

 

He just couldn't forget.

Joe thrust the pitchfork into another bale of hay and twisted it apart with quick, hard movements while the cattle milling around the wagon bawled with hunger.

The late February cold seared his throat and his lungs but left his thoughts as clear as the icy day. And as always, they went back to that morning a week earlier when he had made the huge—no, gargantuan—mistake of kissing Annie.

To his immense chagrin, he hadn't been able to think of another damn thing since then. Didn't matter what
he was doing, his thoughts would inevitably travel back to that incredible mistake of a kiss.

He'd even taken to eating all his meals at his own place just so he didn't have to watch her mouth curve around a fork and remember just how those lips had felt beneath his.

He was pathetic. Absolutely pathetic.

What in hell possessed him to kiss her like that? he asked himself for at least the thousandth time. One moment he'd been standing in her family room, minding his own business, the next he'd completely lost it and hadn't been able to stop himself from reaching her.

What had he been thinking? Hours after reminding himself of all the reasons they couldn't be together, he practically jumps her.

Well, not quite. He had at least had the sensibility to bite down hard on the need that had exploded to life inside him when she looked at him with want in her big green eyes. But his control had been slipping fast. If C.J. hadn't come down the stairs and interrupted them, he probably would have lost it completely.

Since their kiss, things had been awkward between him and Annie, to say the least. She acted about as skittish around him as a bunch of cows around a family of skunks.

At least C.J. seemed to have forgiven him. The kid had once again taken to following him around every day after school. He didn't know if he felt better or worse to have C.J. talking to him again. It was almost easier when he was still mad; then Joe could let himself forget how much he was going to miss the little rascal.

Miss all of them.

With more force than strictly necessary, he forked the
last alfalfa bale apart for the cattle then climbed back onto the tractor and headed toward the barn.

The ranch seemed strangely quiet when he reached it. No dogs came running out to bark at him as the tractor rumbled in and nothing moved in the cold air but a couple of magpies fighting over something they'd probably scavenged out of the garbage.

He was just starting to get a weird itch between his shoulder blades when Patch stepped out of the barn. The cowboy sent him a friendly wave as Joe stepped down from the tractor.

“Where is everybody?” he asked.

Patch shrugged. “We were running low on vitamins so Miz Annie sent Ruben and Manny into the feed store in town for more. They ought to be back any time now.”

“What about Mitchell?”

“He went with the boss gal to ride the fence line between here and the Broken Spur.”

Joe frowned at that bit of information. “We just checked that line three days ago. Why is she checking it again?”

“She got a call from McKendrick an hour or so ago. Said a couple of his men saw some Double C stock up by the lake yesterday.”

“The lake? Butterfly?”

Patch nodded. “That's what the man said.”

They had spent more time rounding up strays these past few weeks than he ever remembered having to do.

Sometimes he could swear the blasted cattle were reincarnated escape artists, the way they could find the tiniest holes to sneak through. And the ranch did seem to be having more than its fair share of fence trouble this winter.

“I guess we can kiss those cattle goodbye until the snow melts.”

“Not if the boss has anything to say about it. She was worried they would starve to death up there.”

“There's no way she's going to get up the High Lonesome trail with this much snow.”

“Never say never to that gal. You ought to know better than that.”