The Secret Child & The Cowboy CEO (13 page)

Allen cocked his head. “Like strep throat?”

“No. Something that never got better. But you
were very lucky because you had me and your aunt Beverly.”

“Why didn't my dad ever invite me to come here?” Allen was sharp.

“He didn't want you to see him feeling bad. And he didn't tell Mac and Trent that you were his little boy. But now that they know, Mac wants you to visit as often as we can.”

“Can we live here?”

Bryn groaned inwardly. “We already have a place to live…you know? And Aunt Beverly would miss us if we were gone.”

Allen grinned. “Yeah. I guess.” Then as usual, his focus shifted. “Can we go back to the house now? I'm hungry.”

She ruffled his hair. “You're always hungry.”

They took off at a trot, and Allen pretended to race her, giggling when she panted and bent to put her hands on her knees. She took a deep breath and made one last sprint.

Two steps later, she cried out in shock when she stepped in a hole and her body kept going. There was a sickening crack, dreadful pain shot up her leg and she catapulted forward to meet the ground with a thud.

The first thing she remembered was her son's little hand patting her cheek. When she opened her eyes, she realized he was crying. “I'm okay,” she said automatically.

He wasn't stupid. Fear painted his face. “Mommy, your phone's not in your pocket.”

Oh, God.
“I left it at the house.” Throbbing pain made it difficult to enunciate.

“I'll go get help,” he said, looking sober and not at all childlike.

“No. You'll get lost.” She blurted it out, terrified at the possibility of letting her baby boy wander alone.

Allen took her face between his hands, his expression earnest. “Mommy, I can see the house. It's over there.”

He was right. The roof was visible through the trees. Her brain spun. What choice did she have? If she passed out—and it was a good possibility given the way she felt—she'd be leaving Allen unattended anyway. Was there any difference in the two scenarios? The pain made nausea rise in her throat as sweat beaded her forehead.

Desperately, she gazed at her small, brave son. “You must stay on the trail. And if you get confused, stop and come back. Be careful. Promise me.”

He stood up. “I'll bring Trent, Mommy. He'll know what to do.”

 

Trent was in the corral, examining the left rear shoe on his stallion, when a small figure out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. It was little Allen. Alone. Trent ran to meet him, his heart in his throat. “What happened? Where's your mother?” He dropped down on his knees, so the two of them were at eye level. Allen was wheezing a little bit, but his color was good. He was scared and trying hard not to show it.

He laid his head on Trent's shoulder in an innocent
gesture of trust. “She stepped in a hole. Her ankle might be broken. I can show you where she is. It's not far.”

Trent's brain buzzed. He scooped the little boy into his arms and tucked him up on the horse. “Hold on to the saddle horn. We're going to ride fast.” Allen's eyes were huge, but he nodded. Trent put a foot in the stirrup and vaulted up behind him. “Let's go. I'm counting on you to show me the way….”

One arm wrapped around Allen's waist, Trent rode hell for leather. Thinking about Bryn, hurt and alone, made him crazy, so he did his best to concentrate on getting to her as quickly as he could.

Thankfully, the kid was right. It was less than a quarter of a mile. But when they reached Bryn, she was unconscious. Trent felt his world wobble and blur. She had to be okay. She had to be okay. She had to.

He jumped down and set the boy on his feet. While Allen hovered anxiously, Trent took a handkerchief from his pocket and wet it with water from the canteen on the ground beside Bryn. He wiped her face gently. “Wake up, Bryn. I'm here. Wake up, sweetheart.”

It was a full minute before Bryn responded. She was ghostly white, and her lips were pale. “You came.”

The words were so low he had to bend his head to hear them. He reached out his hand for Allen, pulling him close. “Your son is a hero,” he said softly. “I'd never have known where you were without him.”

She tried to wet her lips. “I've hardly seen you speak to him. I thought you were angry because he was Jesse's son,” she whispered, her voice almost inaudible.

He lifted the canteen to her lips and made her drink.
“Angry?” Had she hit her head after all? She wasn't making sense.

“Because he's not yours and mine.”

It was his turn to frown. “Don't be ridiculous. I love Allen. He's my flesh and blood. I'll always love him.”

It was a nightmare ride that took far longer than it should. The sun dropped lower in the sky as they made their halting way back toward the house.

When they finally reached the edge of the corral, Trent barked out orders, and ranch hands came running. Beverly took charge of Allen, and the nurse was at Trent's side as he carried Bryn into the house. He put her in his bedroom. It was larger and more comfortable than hers, with a massive king-size bed. Bryn moaned as he laid her carefully on the embroidered, navy silk duvet.

There was really no choice what to do. The ankle was clearly broken. The nurse confirmed Trent's amateur diagnosis. Mac summoned a helicopter and Trent and the nurse boarded with Bryn for the brief trip to Jackson Hole.

“H
ow is she, son?” Mac, Beverly and Allen had lingered at the ranch for a couple of hours, not wanting Allen to get restless at the hospital during what could be a lengthy surgery.

“She should be coming out of recovery any minute now.” Trent was hollow inside, feeling the aftermath of adrenaline. The sterile waiting room had been a cage he'd prowled for several hours. “Why don't you go on in so she can see Allen first thing. It's room 317. I'm going to grab some coffee and a sandwich.”

He didn't linger at the snack machine. It was almost nine and he knew Mac and Beverly wouldn't want to keep Allen out too late.

When he approached the room a quarter hour later, he could hear Allen's excited chatter and Bryn's softer
voice. He drew in a sharp breath, swamped with a wave of relief to hear concrete proof that she was okay.

He hovered in the hall, wanting to give the others plenty of time to reassure themselves that Bryn had come through the surgery with no ill effects. Finally, the door opened, and Bryn's visitors exited. The nurse would ride back to the ranch with them.

Mac squeezed his shoulder. “Take care of our girl.”

Now Bryn was alone. Trent took a deep breath, knocked briefly on the partially open door and stepped into the room.

 

Bryn shifted in the bed and winced. Even with really wonderful drugs, her ankle throbbed mercilessly.

When Trent appeared in the doorway, her heart jumped. She hoped he couldn't tell on the monitor. She was in pain. It had been a terrible, stressful day. And she felt in no condition to hold her own with him.

He looked like hell. “You should have gone home with the others,” she said quietly. “You're exhausted.”

He pulled up a chair beside her bed. “I'm not leaving you.” His angular face was creased with fatigue, his eyes shadowed. She wanted to smooth a hand over his hair, but she felt the invisible wall between them.

“There's no need for you to stay. I'm fine…really.” She touched the neck of her hospital gown and sighed inwardly. Her hair was a mess. She would kill for a shower. And Trent had to see her like this. It wasn't fair. She always seemed to be at a disadvantage when it came to their interactions.

He took her hand in his, examining the shallow cuts and scrapes that covered the palm. She had tried to catch herself when she fell. It was a wonder she hadn't broken an arm. He ran his thumb gently over the worst of the wounds. “I lost ten years off my life today.”

He looked at her, for once his dark gaze completely unguarded, and her breath caught in her chest. Was she imagining the agonized concern she saw there?

She curled her fingers around his palm. “I'm so sorry. I should have had my phone with me.”

He shrugged. “Reception is sometimes spotty once you get away from the house. It might not have been any help. Your son, on the other hand, is one hell of a smart kid.”

She might have taken offense at the “your son” reference, if not for the fact that Trent's face beamed with pride.

No mother could resist praise for her offspring. “He
is
pretty amazing,” she said smugly. The she sobered. “I was terrified to let him go off on his own, but what choice did we have?”

“He took me right to you. He was a trooper.”

The room fell silent. She was tremblingly aware of the fact that Trent stroked the back of her hand, almost absentmindedly.

He stood and reached forward to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear…then kissed her cheek. “Why did you turn down my marriage proposal, Bryn?” He propped one arm on the bed rail and stared at her intently.

She plucked at her IV nervously, unable to meet his eyes. “I'm able to provide for my son.”

“That's not what I asked.”

She slanted him a sideways gaze. “I didn't want to be an obligation to you…a wrong you have to right.”

He frowned. “That doesn't even make sense. I offered to make you my wife.”

“Like a business merger.” She heard the petulance in her own voice and winced inwardly.

A smile began to draw up the corners of Trent's sensual mouth. “I may be good at a lot of things,” he muttered, “but that was my first proposal. It possibly lacked finesse.”

She pouted. “It lacked
something.
”

He grinned fully now, picking up her hand and kissing each scrape. “Would it have helped if I told you I adore you…that I've loved you since you were a little girl in ragged shorts and scabbed-up knees. That what I felt for you changed over the years into something far deeper. But that I was too much of a self-centered, ego-driven jerk to recognize what I had before I lost it. That I need you so much it hurts, and I didn't even know there was anything missing in my life until you showed up in Wyoming.”

Bryn lay, openmouthed, and thought her heart might break. For Trent, the self-contained, tightly controlled man that he was, to humble himself in such a way was a gift she had never expected. She was speechless.

His smile was wry. “Is that a second
no?
”

She gulped. “No. I mean yes. Oh, Trent, I don't know what to say.” She sniffed, blinking rapidly.

He shook his head and wiped her cheeks tenderly with the edge of the sheet. “You're killing me, little one. Any kind of answer would be appreciated. A man can only stand so much suspense.”

She grabbed his hand in hers and squeezed. “Are you sure?” She couldn't bear it if he was confusing affection with love.

He kissed her again. Harder this time. With echoes of the passion they had shared. “Do I strike you as indecisive, Brynnie?
Yes
—I love you. And I promise you I'm not going to change my mind in five minutes or fifty years. So you might as well get used to it.”

She tugged him closer. “Sit on the bed.”

He lowered the bed rail and complied, but he pretended to look toward the hall with apprehension. “I'm scared of that nurse. Please don't get me in trouble.”

She wanted to laugh, but her chest was a huge bubble of happiness that made it hard to breathe.

He put an arm around her shoulders and settled her against his chest, her cheek over his beating heart. She decided there and then that a broken ankle was a small price to pay.

“Yes,” she said with a soft sigh.

He kissed her temple. “Yes to what?”

“To everything. To laughter. To forever. I love you, Trent.”

He stretched his long legs out on the mattress, one ankle propped over the other. “Are you sure?”

He was mocking her, but she was too happy to care. “I'm sure,” she said, grinning uncontrollably. “So kiss your calm, ordered life goodbye.”

He nuzzled the top of her head and sighed from deep in his chest. “I can't wait, Brynnie. I can't wait.”