“Come over here and sit down,” Cody said, sounding tired.
“I’d rather stand.” She would rather have hidden under her covers, but that wasn’t an option. “But I’ll sit if you agree to share a piece of pie with me and figure this all out, like two old friends solving a problem.”
“That’s the problem, Shelby Lynn,” Cody said quietly. “We’ve already proved that it’s impossible for us to be friends.”
Shelby didn’t respond. She couldn’t. Pathetic as it was, he still had the ability to hurt her. Wiping away her tears, she opened the fridge. Scooping out a slice of peach pie and placing it and two forks on the table, she sat as far away from Cody as the farm-style table would allow.
Cody studied the pie. “How do I know you didn’t poison it?” A suspicious brow shot up, and even though the smile didn’t reach his eyes, he managed to lighten the tension.
“Guess you don’t.” Shelby couldn’t mask the slight tremor in her voice. “And there’s no soap in this one, I promise.”
“So, Lulu’s been talking?”
Talking was grossly understating what Ms. Luella had done. She had walked around like a prized bull that just threw the national champion rider to the ground before they even left the pen.
“Yeah, told me the whole story after she uncuffed herself from the stove.”
“Apparently, she thought I was in need of a good mouth-washing.”
“Guess she doesn’t listen to herself at bingo. Otherwise she’d have a permanent sudsy smile.”
They both laughed, but it came out forced and hollow.
Shelby softened her voice and watched Cody’s face for his reaction when she ventured, “She also told me you pretty much fired the whole lot of ranch hands. Including Sam and Hal.”
“Yup,” was all he said, but his mouth grew stubborn.
Despite everything that had just happened and the painful loss she’d experienced when he’d said that they could never be friends, it still felt good to talk to him about something other than the past. Wanting to close the distance between them, Shelby rested a hand on the table, her fingers reaching out to barely brush the tips of his. “That must have been hard.”
“You don’t think I was harsh?” Cody’s eyes shifted, almost daring her to judge him.
“I think that you had your reasons and that’s all that matters.” Cody had never been one to jump the gun. He thought things through, weighed the consequences before acting. So if he felt he needed to fire those men, then he must have had reasons. Didn’t mean he wasn’t hurting though. “Even so, I know it must be weighing hard on you. I figured that’s what had you up most of last night, worrying about their families.”
“Dylan told me about Sam’s granddaughter.” Cody’s hands slid closer, linking just two of their fingers.
“Emily,” Shelby went on, trying to ignore the sensations his fingers created. “She’s a year younger than Jake. Two years ago, she was diagnosed with type 1 diabetes and the shots alone would kill them if they didn’t have insurance. But that doesn’t make it your fault.”
Cody shrugged, looked almost shy. “I think I found a way he and his family can stay on the insurance until he finds another job.”
This time, it was Shelby who slid closer, her hands enveloping his fully. “You’re a good man, Cody Tucker.” She granted the compliment with a soft smile. Cody’s fingers tightened around hers.
“Yeah, well, kids shouldn’t have to suffer for their parents’ problems.”
There was so much meaning in that one sentence, it choked Shelby. Mesmerized by this enigma of a man sitting inches from her, she shifted in her seat, wondering what he wanted out of all of this, hoping that he was ready to be a man of his word with regard to his own son.
Before she could ask, Cody forked off a good quarter of the slice and brought it to her lips, his brow raised in challenge.
“Oh, for Pete’s sake.” Shelby defiantly opened her mouth.
Cody slid the fork in, and she closed her lips around it. The velvety texture mixed with the flaky crust had her eyes sliding shut in sheer appreciation.
Ms. Luella could cook
.
When Shelby opened her eyes, it was to find Cody staring at her intently, and this time, she had no problem deciphering what he wanted. Ever so slowly, Cody withdrew the fork from between her lips, the slide of cold metal on her tongue seductively erotic.
Without breaking eye contact, he flipped the fork over and placed it into his own mouth, making the same sensual pass. Shelby swallowed her entire bite whole.
Something in Cody’s eyes shifted, turning them from amber to a deep, liquid mahogany as they roamed down her neck, to her breasts, and back up again, her body swaying closer with every heart-pounding inch of his exploration. It was only when his eyes met hers that Shelby realized her lungs burned to the point of barely breathing.
“You’d better go,” Cody rasped. “I’m afraid pie is no longer what I’m craving.”
Yes, she should go.
But would one night with Cody be so bad? If they both knew the terms going in . . .
No way. They could never be simply friends. And Shelby had trusted him with her heart once, believed he’d loved her and would always be there for her. Now she only believed in one thing—Jake.
“But we still need to talk about Jake.”
“Do you really think that if you stay here we’ll end up talking?”
He was right. This would have to wait. Staying here with him half naked and looking like an invitation to roll in the hay would only lead to one thing . . . another broken heart.
Plus, Shelby was allergic to hay.
“I am covering two swing shifts at work, so Jake and I will be staying in town for a few nights. We’ll be back Sunday. Just in case you wondered where we were at.”
“Thanks for letting me know.”
“Night, Cody,” Shelby said, and before she did something she’d regret, like crawling on his lap and licking his chest, she scurried toward the door.
“Shelby Lynn.” His voice, addictively potent, had her feet rooting themselves in the doorway. “Earlier today, Lulu called Jacob ‘JT.’”
Taking a deep breath, she slowly turned her head. The insecurity she saw there, burning in Cody’s eyes, was enough to bowl her over. “His friends call him ‘JT.’ It’s short for Jacob Cody Tucker.”
Outside of her pounding heart and the hum of the refrigerator, the room was so quiet it made her even more aware of Cody’s strained silence. Whether it was from anger or relief, she couldn’t tell—but the recognition that flickered over his son’s bearing his name was undeniable.
“He’s your son, Cody. I never hid that from him. . . .” She paused, letting him absorb the information. “Or anyone else.”
The silence stretched on for so long Shelby began to wonder if this conversation was over, at least for the time being. When he finally spoke, his voice was heavy with emotion. “What did you tell him about . . .
me
?”
She wanted to cry at the pain she heard in his voice, the shame in his sunken shoulders. But then she reminded herself that he’d chosen this. He’d been the one to turn his back on them. And until she had his commitment in writing, she had no intention of making this easy on him.
“I didn’t downplay what happened back then. I told him that you loved him, but you weren’t ready to be a daddy yet.”
Cody gave a single, jerky nod. “I’m sorry I wasn’t the man you needed me to be back then.”
Shelby’s heart squeezed painfully at the words she had waited so long to hear, but feared it was too late.
Cody jammed the rake into the ground, accidently catching the tip of his boot. After cussing a blue streak that didn’t make him feel a damn bit better, he gave up. He’d done everything he could think of to distract himself from the one thing that was driving him to distraction. Shelby Lynn.
And that was when Cody realized that Shelby was no longer a memory that he could pull out on lonely nights and push to the back of his mind when it became too painful. She was real, everything he remembered, and everything he was missing. He’d been shamelessly in love with her in college, and she’d turned out to be the most painful experience of his life.
And that she didn’t seem to be going anywhere anytime soon scared the hell out of him. But not as much as the thought of her leaving. Especially since he couldn’t trust her. Which was how Cody found himself at eight in the morning, three hours into mucking out the stalls, physically exhausted and no closer to sleep or a solution.
Even before the sound of hay crunching crackled through the barn, he knew it was JT. Cody turned to find his son, standing at the barn gate, shuffling a single foot back and forth in the dirt and doing his best to pretend he wasn’t fighting mad or so confused he could give in to a long cry. Cody got it, he felt the same way.
“Morning,” Cody said, a sinking suspicion that whatever ground he’d gained last night was long gone in the light of day.
“Uh-huh,” JT mumbled, studying the stall walls and doing everything possible to avert his attention.
At first he’d figured if the kid needed space to come to terms with it all, then Cody would give it to him. But that space to a nine-year-old had somehow translated into “he doesn’t want me” and reconfirmed that the last place he should be was around his kid. Hell, any kid.
But looking at that stubborn jaw and those hurt-filled eyes broke Cody’s heart.
“Want to help?”
“Sure.” JT’s face lit up with a pleasure so sweet, Cody felt ten feet tall. For once he’d made his son feel something other than pain.
He jerked his head toward the shovel leaning against the far side of the barn. “Then grab that and start mucking.”
The next few minutes passed in silence. And for the first time since he’d found his daddy’s drink of choice by his bedside, Cody felt his body relax enough to take in this precious moment; father and son doing the most natural thing in the world. Shoveling shit.
“So,” Cody ventured. “What should I call you?”
JT gave another of his trademark shrugs, which Cody was coming to interpret as his way of preparing for disappointment. “Well, Preston calls me Jacob. My mom and teachers call me Jake. But most folks call me JT. So, whatever.”
“Okay, Whatever,” Cody teased.
When JT didn’t respond with so much as a blink, Cody thought this little heart-to-heart was already over. Then JT spoke, face crinkled with insecurity. “What do you want me to call you?”
Cody wanted to cry, cuss, and scream. His kid looked so lost, his need for acceptance as tangible as the saddle on the wall. Whatever was going on between him and Shelby would have to wait. Making things right with his son was too important.
“My brothers call me . . . well, they call me a lot of things I’m guessing your mom would take issue with if you repeated.”
“Yeah?” JT’s eyes sparkled with excitement.
“Not falling for it. I seem to get your mom good and angry without any additional help from you.” Cody tossed another rake full of hay into the stall. “When I was a kid, folks called me CT. Some still do. Cody works too.” He paused, knowing it was his turn for disappointment, but throwing it out there anyway. “Or you could call me Dad.”
JT’s mouth gaped open, snapped shut, and he started shoveling like crazy, working at the pile of horse chips like cleaning that stall was a matter of national security. Cody cursed himself for pushing too hard. But dammit, he wanted his son to call him dad.
“Unless you call Preston that.”
JT laughed, although it sounded more like bleating. If that laugh was any indication, JT clearly didn’t think Preston came anywhere near hanging the moon.
Cody smiled. He liked this kid. Good judge of character. Smart too.
“Didn’t you guys used to be friends?”
Friends didn’t even describe it. They were like brothers. Preston was the first friend Cody had made in college. They’d met freshman year in the dorms, eventually getting their own place together off campus. Even gone into business together. Cody had done all the work, while Preston’s family invested the initial seed and their name opened doors.
Outside of his brothers, Preston was the only person Cody allowed in. Well, besides Shelby. And in the end, they’d both betrayed his trust.
“Used to be.” Cody considered his words and, unsure of Preston’s involvement in JT’s life, figured it would be safer to change the subject. “So you can call me anything as long as it’s not
sir
.”
“I’ll think about it,” JT said, his words curt, but he couldn’t hide the smirk.
Now Cody was getting somewhere. He stepped forward, giving in to the need to touch JT and tell him he wanted nothing more than to get to know him, when Dylan walked in.
“Morning, boss.”
“Dylan.”
“Part of the fence on the north side is down.”
Crap. He didn’t need this. “Any steer missing?”
“Not sure. I have a couple guys out looking.”
“Did you patch the fence?”
“Nope. Figured you’d want to take a gander at it.” Which meant there was something wrong. “And it seems one of the tractors is acting funny.”
A sinking suspicion rotted in Cody’s gut. He hadn’t considered that someone would want him and his brothers to fail. But either Tucker’s Crossing was having a serious case of bad luck or someone was going through a hell of a lot of trouble to make it appear that way.
“All right, give me a minute to finish up here, and I’ll join you.”
“Sorry, boss. It’ll have to be a little later. I promised Shelby I’d take JT to school.”
“No problem,” Cody said but he didn’t mean it. There were so many problems with the current situation it wasn’t even funny.
Dylan turned his focus to JT. “You ready to go?”
“Yes, sir.” Cody hated the hero worship he heard in JT’s voice.
“Meet you by the truck.”
“Can I ride in the back?”
“Just until we reach the end of The Crossing. Once we get on pavement, it’s inside the cab. Got it?”
JT saluted. “Yes, sir.”
That
sir
had not one ounce of smart-ass in it, and Cody decided he was buying a truck. Today. And he’d drive his kid around the property all day long if he smiled at him like that. What kind of foreman drove a Mercedes anyway?