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Chapter 3

“Then what do you want?”

Was there ever a more loaded question? Cody wasn’t even sure he knew the answer.

Up until he saw Shelby, standing naked and fresh from the shower, he knew exactly what he wanted. To come back here, to his family’s ranch, and fire every son of a bitch who’d stood by while his dad wailed on his kid brother. Then somehow finish out his sentence so he could return to his life in Austin.

But now, after seeing Shelby, here in this house, standing in the middle of his childhood, everything changed.

He wanted to make sure she was okay, see if she’d finished nursing school, know if Preston had broken her heart the way she’d destroyed his. He wanted to run his hands down her body and see if her lips still tasted as sweet as he remembered. He wanted to go back and force himself to be the kind of man that she deserved.

Oh, Cody wanted. Too bad they were things a man like him didn’t have the right to want, let alone possess.

“I want to know what the hell you’re doing in my mom’s kitchen.”

Hurt swelled in her eyes and he wanted to feel good for putting it there, but it only served as a reminder of how he’d lost her to begin with.

“I live here.”

Had he heard her right? “Run that by me again. I thought you said you lived here.”

“That’s right.”

Now it was his turn to pale. “How long?”

“A couple of years ago, your dad,” she stumbled, “I mean, Silas got ill. He needed a nurse. I needed a job. So I applied.”

“You lived here! With my dad!” The thought of Shelby here, with Silas, in this house, didn’t sit right. Hell, it gave him new fuel for nightmares. It was just one more betrayal to add to the list. “What were you thinking?”

“Just what I said, your dad needed a nurse and the job came with a place to stay.”

Running a hand through his hair, he tortured himself with every horrible situation that he could possibly think of involving a fragile, genuine woman like Shelby and his beast of a father. In less than two seconds he’d come up with enough to make him sick.

Done with the conversation, Cody headed for the back door. He needed space to decompress before he snapped and air that didn’t remind him of his failures.

“Cody—” Shelby panicked.

He was leaving. Just like before, only this time she would be forced to actually watch him walk out the door. Her hard-laid plans would all be for nothing. And that was not acceptable. Too much was at stake.

“Oh, no you don’t.” Stubborn determination threw her into motion. Storming across the tile floor, she yanked him to a stop, forcing him to face the problem head-on. “Don’t you dare walk out on me. We aren’t even close to being done here.”

Every muscle in his arm tightened under her grasp. Cody spun around in a defensive motion. He was amped and ready to strike. Anyone else in her situation would fear for her life, but not Shelby. And that said something about him.

Cody might be a massive wall of raging testosterone, but he was also the gentlest man she’d ever known. In their time together, she’d never felt anything but utterly adored and protected. Even loved. Right up until he walked out.

“Let go,” he ordered.

“Not until we talk.”

“I mean it, Shelby Lynn. Let. Me. Go.”

That was the problem, she couldn’t.

“And what if I say no?” Bold words for a woman who needed his cooperation.

Without taking his gaze from hers, he issued a single command: “Don’t push me, Shelby Lynn.”

Shelby let go, but sent him a threatening glare. “Oh, I haven’t even begun to start pushing.”

To her dismay, there was no change in his expression. He crossed his arms, looking relaxed in his Armani button-up, totally unaffected by her threat. Here she was, ready to burst into tears and he was disciplined as always, which put a burr in Shelby’s temper.

“Is that right?” Nope, not even a smile.

“You don’t scare me, Cody Tucker.”

Whoa. That got his attention. Cody stood staring at her, his face so full of disbelief and pain that she staggered back a few feet. Did he actually think she was afraid of him? Maybe she didn’t want to know.

With a curse, Cody stalked toward her too fast for her to react, eating up the distance between them in two forceful steps, fury radiating off his every inch. Shelby couldn’t have moved even if she’d wanted to, which she wasn’t entirely sure she did.

Cody clasped her face between his hands, and leaned down toward her, filling up more and more of the room until all she could see were his eyes, his lips stopping only a scant inch from her mouth, electricity filling the minuscule space.

“Damn you, woman. Why can’t you ever just let things be?” His words danced against her lips. Their bodies brushed, their breath mixed, and then they were kissing. Hot, hard kisses that were somehow heart-shatteringly soft.

And just like that, her world shifted on its axis. She could have pushed him back and screamed her outrage. But he felt too good. Too right. One touch and the sky was down, the floors flopped, and she was falling into the past.

He brushed her mouth with his, nibbling and savoring, his lips caressing as he briefly slid his tongue against hers. He tasted of belonging, of a time when her life was overflowing with happiness and love.

Shelby told her hands to let go of his shirt, so she wouldn’t wrinkle it; she tried to remind herself that this was Cody and he couldn’t be trusted. Because if he kept kissing her, she would forget the hurt he had caused.

Cody dropped one of his hands from her face, only to mold his fingers around her hips with a controlled gentleness that stole away every last hesitation and started a warm tingling sensation that settled between her legs. His thumb stroked the spot right behind her earlobe that always drove her crazy. And God it felt good.

Slowly, his hand ascended, rib by rib, until it stopped, a breath shy of where she wanted it most—and she heard herself whimper. How could this be happening? And what had happened to that in-control woman she had become?

His thumbs teased higher, making her heart slam erratically against her chest. She said nothing, just moved closer, pushing her swollen mounds into his palms. His mouth curled up into the start of his oh-yeah smile, making her stomach flip just like it used to, as if the past had ceased to exist.

Cody sobered, his hands stilled. “I’m not doing this again. Not with you.”

“I agree, it’s too complicated.” But it was also too late. Something had happened. Something exciting and terrifying and incredibly stupid. Neither one of them could stop it. And neither one of them was happy about it.

“This will only blow up in our faces.” Cody pulled her to him and she felt the hard ridge of his erection throb against her stomach.

“But what an explosion it’d be.”

“Who knew anger could be such a fucking turn-on?” he whispered.

Shelby grabbed the front of his shirt, she’d iron it later, and yanked him down, wrapping herself around him, because the alternative was to crumple to the floor. Cody moaned, his desire completely unfiltered. Melding their lips even tighter, he kissed her silly, in that way that only Cody could do.

After he hoisted her up so they were more evenly matched, she wrapped her legs around his stomach and squeezed. He set her onto the counter, the bare skin on her legs pressing into the cool tile, the skirt of her dress catching on a line of grout, his legs pushing at her inner thighs.

He was hot and angry and turned on all at the same time and Shelby couldn’t help but smile against his mouth. This was one of those rare moments when Cody’s need for self-control got lost in the passion. Exposing the man who had stolen her heart, the one she had fallen in love with.

“You know what’s going to happen now, Shelby Lynn,” he whispered, his lips trailing lower, teasing her breasts. The pull of his mouth was so intense that her nipples ached through the cotton dress.

“What?” she whispered, her hands tearing at the buttons on his shirt. She’d just buy him a new one.

“I’m going to carry you up those stairs, toss you on that big bed.” His teeth nipped at her peak and she gasped. “And then you’re going to pack up your things and get your pretty little ass off my property.”

Shelby snatched her hands back. It was as if she had been doused with a bucket of cold water. The past came rushing back, destroying the fragile bond they had just created.

She was confused.

And hurt.

What had just happened?

What was she doing?

And why, even though he was being a domineering jerk, did she want to go back to kissing him? The only thing that made sense was that she was messing everything up.

Scooting off the counter, she shoved past Cody and straightened her dress. She felt every ounce of shame, not to mention a good dose of anger, as it crept up her body. Preston had said she was as passionate as an ice cube, and maybe she was trying to prove him wrong. Or maybe it just felt good, after so many years of being told how disappointing she was as a woman, to feel desirable.

Whatever the reason, one brush of his lips and she had been willing to forget the past, forget that heartache, forget the lies, forget why she was here. Forget he was wearing starch.

Shelby met his gaze head-on. She wouldn’t be bossed around by one more man. And she wouldn’t be intimidated into leaving the only place that had ever felt like a home. She was no longer that love-hungry kid, ready to shoulder the blame if it meant not being alone.

“Scare tactics won’t work. And wherever my pretty little . . . backside decides to go, is none of your business. Not anymore.”

“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?” A long, tense moment passed before Cody threw his hands up in surrender. “You know what, you’re right. You, thank God, are no longer my problem. Bottom line is—you’re trespassing and you need to leave. Now.”

“If you came all this way just to tell me to get out, you wasted a trip,” Shelby said, her voice low and calm. “This is my home. Silas gave me permission to stay on as long as I like. And until you and your brothers . . .” she trailed off, eyeing him accusingly.

At least have the decency to look embarrassed, she thought. He had lied to her about so many things—well, left out crucial parts of his past, which to her was as bad as lying. Finding out he had a whole family that he’d never told her about, been too embarrassed to introduce her to, had hurt the most.

“Until you finish out your twelve months, the house remains in probate, and I am free to stay.” Shelby rested her hands on her hips, a sign that she wasn’t going anywhere. And made a note to thank Gina for the legal jargon.

“Damn it, Shelby Lynn.” Cody ran a hand down his stubbled jaw. “I don’t want you here. Too much is going on right now.”

She ignored the familiar sting. “Well, too bad, I’m staying.”

“You don’t belong here.”

That would leave a mark, she thought. The full impact of his statement cut as deep as if it had been a physical blow. Everything in her brain seemed to freeze as she stood paralyzed, in the middle of the kitchen, staring up at him, and willing her eyes to stay dry.

To Shelby, it seemed she’d spent her whole life trying to belong, to find a place that was hers. And for a brief moment, all those years ago with Cody, she’d stupidly thought she had. Then came the pain of rejection and the realization that in the end she wasn’t enough to make him happy.

Her heart still bore the scars.

The screen door’s hinge squeaked on its axis with enough force to combat the stiffness of a half century of openings and closings. Shelby forgot about Cody, forgot about their fight, forgot about everything the moment she saw Jacob standing there.

Dropping his backpack to the floor, his eyes narrowed in challenge.

How much had he heard?

If the stubborn set of his jaw and the way he stormed across the floor, placing his body between Cody and herself, were any indication—too much.

Jake looked much older than his nine years. Seeing him face-to-face with Cody broke Shelby’s heart. Until he’d been born, she’d never experienced the wonderful feeling of family. And to this day she never understood how Cody could have walked away.

Jake’s eyes settled on Cody, hard and unyielding. “What did you say to my mama?”

Shelby’s heart turned painfully in her chest. Dear God, this was not how it was supposed to happen.

Cody stood in his mama’s kitchen, his own scared eyes looking back at him, and the past was closing in with every breath he took. His mind raced through all of the implications.

The cute nose, cornflower eyes, and dusting of freckles might have been Shelby’s but everything else was his. Right down to the stubborn gleam flashing in the kid’s eyes and the thick, dark curls he and his brothers had hated growing up. Even the protective jut of the boy’s chin, which said he’d take on anyone who tried to mess with his mama, was a carbon copy of his own.

Son of a bitch. He had a son.

Cody Tucker, the guy who’d sworn off ever having kids for fear of the kind of man he was deep down inside, was a father.

This is my son. My own flesh and blood. A feeling too difficult to articulate and so unfamiliar overwhelmed him. Until he saw the accusation staring back at him.

Bile rose up, churning with anger and sheer impotence. Doing a quick calculation, Cody estimated the boy to be around nine. Nine years of bedtime stories, tossing the ball around, riding the range—gone. Nine years of his son not knowing who, or where, his father was.

Why the hell hadn’t Shelby ever told him?

An image flew into his head, bringing with it a harsh slap of reality. He remembered the terrified look in Shelby’s eyes as he straightened her clothes and grasped for the words to make what he’d done okay.

Scared and drowning in Tucker rage, Cody had just come back from The Crossing, where he’d found Beau a bloody mess. And for the first time in his life, Cody had given his old man a taste of his own temper.

Silas had been a mean bastard ever since Cody’s mom had died, starting with humiliation and swiftly moving on to fists. But nothing had prepared Cody for the mess that his dad’s final drunken rage had made of Beau.

After knocking Silas out cold, Cody packed up his kid brother, only seventeen at the time, took him to the hospital, and prepared to make good on his vow never to let Beau go back to that house.

With Noah stationed overseas, and not wanting Beau to wake up alone, Cody had kept a silent vigil by his bed, only leaving when the nurse convinced him to go home and clean up.

High on adrenaline and amped with fear, Cody pulled into Shelby’s place long after midnight. The minute he saw her standing there all warm and welcoming, worried out of her mind—over him, covered in two generations of Tucker blood—he’d lost it.

His self-control snapped and instead of showing her what he hadn’t been able to tell her with words, he took her against the wall. No finesse. No foreplay. He took her hard and fast and frantic and probably scared the shit out of her. She never once complained, but that look on her face said it all.

Too ashamed to look at her afterward, he’d zipped up his pants, straightened her nightgown and bolted. Checked into a motel, showered and returned to Beau’s side, scared that deep down he was just like his dad. And that even if he hadn’t managed to hurt her this time, the day would come when he would. It was in his blood.

But how would he reconcile this?

“Cody.” Shelby’s voice jerked him back. She placed her hand on the boy’s shoulder, as if trying to offer him the courage to get through the next few minutes. He saw her eyes mist over and her throat work to swallow. Looking over the boy’s head, she softened her features, pleading with him to make this okay. “This is Jacob.”

Jacob. The backs of Cody’s eyes burned. Shelby had given their son his middle name.

Still numb and scrambling to act normal, Cody squatted down on his haunches and extended a hand toward the boy, figuring the best place to start was with respect. “It’s nice to meet you, Jacob. I’m—”

“I know who you are,” Jacob said, giving Cody’s outstretched hand nothing more than a glance. When Shelby nudged him from behind, he dutifully added, “Sir,” in that polite kiss-my-ass tone only a Tucker could pull off. And if Cody hadn’t been concentrating on the fact that he was face-to-face with his own son, he would have laughed.

Jacob turned to talk to his mom, presenting Cody with his back. “Coach said anyone who’s late today has to give him a monster for every year old they are.”

With mock horror obviously meant to ease the growing tension between the two, she said, “Well then, I guess we better get a move on. Wouldn’t want you to have to do nine whole monsters!”

After a casual ruffle of his brown curls, one that made Cody feel like more of an outsider than he could have ever imagined, Shelby crossed the kitchen and opened the fridge. “How about I pack up a cheese stick and juice box while you go feed Bandit and grab your gear?”

“Okay. But hurry.” Jacob gave Cody one last glare, grabbed his backpack and an apple, and let the screen door slam on its hinges behind him.

Cody and Shelby stood silent, each second more painful than the last.

“This isn’t how I wanted it to happen.”

What was he supposed to say to that? Genuine regret or not, she’d just served him up a blow harder than anything his old man had ever dished out. Still reeling, he didn’t realize Shelby was leaving until she was halfway through the door.

“Hold up. You can’t drop that on me and then just walk out. I want answers.”

She stopped at the threshold. “You don’t think I know that? I get it, trust me. But right now I need to be Mama to a confused little boy.” She finally turned to address him, her eyes hollow. “Besides, I’ve never had a problem with running. That’s your M.O.”

“Eat up, kiddo, you still have to shower and do homework,” Shelby said, more to start a conversation than to speed up supper.

She wouldn’t mind stalling until she was good and sure Cody had eaten and they wouldn’t be forced to sit at that table in strained silence. Or worse, get into it in front of Jake. Which was partially why she’d brought Jake to The B-Cubed, so they could talk without having to hold back. Not that he was talking.

“Not really hungry,” Jake mumbled, smashing a fry with his finger.

Normally after a day of school and football, Jake inhaled a meal twice his size. Tonight though, he seemed sullen and withdrawn, picking and pushing at, more than eating, his food. He’d been this way since they left The Crossing and Shelby didn’t have to guess why. But it still hurt her heart.

Jake was a kid who liked to see what was coming. A side effect, Shelby thought sadly, that came from living with a man like Preston. If Jake knew what to expect, he could prepare himself for the letdown.

Cody showing up, right after Jake had accepted that his daddy wasn’t coming, had been hard to take. Especially on the heels of losing his grandpa. But to see his parents together for the first time, only to have them arguing . . . well, Shelby would just add it to her ever-growing list of stupid decisions where Jake was concerned.

“That was a great throw you made today.”

“Pass.” Jake said to the table, making ketchup doodles across his plate with a fry.

“Fine, it was a great pass you made.”

“It sucked. Jason didn’t even catch it.”

“Language,” Shelby corrected.

“He caught Ryan’s.” Jake finally met her eyes, looking heartbroken all over again, as if he would never be good enough.

Shelby was about to comment when Faith Loren, waitress, busgirl, bartender, and sometime-biscuit-baker at the oldest “establishment” in the county, approached the table.

“You all finished here?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Jake said and Shelby wondered when the slight Southern drawl had woven its way into her son’s voice. Then she smiled. Even though he’d been born in California, he was a Texas boy through and through—which was why she needed to figure out a way to raise him here, while protecting him from further disappointment.

“But you barely touched your food,” Faith said, clearing the plates and digging her elbow into her side to balance the tray. “Was anything wrong with it? I can have Mrs. McKinney whip you up something else if you’d like.”

Jake looked at Shelby and even though she wanted to tell the waitress he’d had a rough day, she remained silent. No one liked being spoken for, especially when they were sitting right there. “No, ma’am. It tasted good. I’m just not all that hungry.”

Faith exchanged a look with Shelby, and her concern was so sincere it was palpable. Most people tended to look right past the waitress, seeing only her sex-on-heels curves and exotic face, but Shelby had always thought the woman had an unpracticed compassion about her, something that made her easy to be around, to talk to, as if she took pride in her ability to care.

She was also one of those girls who looked like she’d had big dreams but somehow life got in the way. Somebody else’s life, Shelby thought sadly, taking in the way she always looked ready to drop everything at a single phone call.

“You aren’t too full for a slice of peach pie now, are you?” Jake’s eyes lit up and Faith slid Shelby a sly, sideway glance. “That is, if it’s all right with your mom.”

“Well, I don’t know.” Shelby stalled, hoping to get some sort of response out of him. He had always kept his feelings close, just like another Tucker she knew. And Shelby wasn’t above using dessert to get him to open up. “Faith’s right, you didn’t eat much dinner and you know the rules.”

“Please,” Jake begged, dragging it out. And for the first time since he’d walked into that kitchen he resembled the sweet kid she loved.

“All right, just this once.”

“Thanks, Mom. You rule.” Jake high-fived Faith.

“One peach pie à la mode, coming right up. And can I get you anything, Shelby? A fresh cup of coffee?”

Shelby looked down. Jake wasn’t the only one who had ignored his meal. Her plate looked like it should be coming out of the kitchen, not being sent back. And her coffee, now cold, was still full to the brim. “No thanks, I’m fine.”

That was the lie of the century. And Faith, as attuned to the turmoil rolling off Shelby as she was at uncovering her customers’ whole life histories, knew it. She shot Shelby a stern we’ll-talk-later look and disappeared through the swinging double doors.

Jake had polished off most of his pie and was currently working on the pool of vanilla ice cream at the bottom of the bowl. Although they hadn’t talked much about anything, and he hadn’t brought up Cody, his shoulders weren’t quite as slumped as when they’d sat down and his face was a little less pinched.

“Coach said that there’s this football camp next month. It’s a whole week and you get to sleep there. In bunk beds. All the guys are going.”

“Sounds like fun,” Shelby said. But it didn’t. She couldn’t imagine Jake being gone for a whole week. He was only nine. Way too young to be going off to sleepover camp. Right? He’d only had his first sleepover at Ryan’s a few months ago. And that was after meeting his family and getting to know them.

“Coach said it would be good for anyone wanting to play first string. Especially me ’cuz I need help with my arm.”

Coach coach coach! Shelby didn’t think Jake needed help with anything. He’d gotten his athletic ability from Cody—thank God—and his willingness to commit wholly of himself from her. She’d only put him in the sport because Silas had convinced her it would be a good way to make friends and feel a part of something. Going in, no one had warned her that football in Sweet Plains—well, the entire state of Texas—was law. Right up there with God, guns, and BBQ.

“I’ll ask your coach about it.”

“He told us to give this to our parents.” Jake rustled through his bag and set a patriotically inspired application on the table.

Shelby looked at the flyer and her heart sank. There, at the top, bold, collegiate letters read, “Tri-County Father/Son Summer Football Bootcamp.”

Shelby peered over the paper at her son. His face said everything he was feeling but couldn’t put into words and Shelby vowed then and there that she would do whatever it took to get her son a daddy. Even at the cost of her heart.

Jake sank back in the booth and spooned at the ice cream, his ready smile from a moment ago gone. “Why did he have to come back now?”

Why indeed. “I don’t know, sweetie. Maybe because he was finally ready to.”

“He didn’t seem ready to me. Seemed like he wanted us gone.”

That he did. Wasn’t going to happen though. “I just don’t think he was expecting us to be there is all. We surprised him.”

“I hate surprises.”

“I know.” Shelby placed a hand over his, struck again by how similar Cody and Jake were. He let her hold it for a minute but quickly snatched it back when Faith reappeared.

“I’m guessing he found his appetite after all.” The waitress took in the empty bowl and winked at Shelby. “I’ll take the licked-clean appearance as a compliment to the chef.”

Jake scrubbed the leftovers off his face with the back of his hand. “It isn’t Ms. Luella’s. But it’s close.”

“Don’t you let Mrs. McKinney hear you say that. The last man that compared those two women’s baking, and found Mrs. McKinney lacking, wound up hog-tied to the church flagpole. On a Sunday.” Faith leaned in and whispered—Jake eating up every word. “Wearing nothing but his tighty-whities and peach pie.”

“No way.”

“Yes, way,” Shelby confirmed. “She went on to take first place in the Summer Sweet Spectacular pie cook-off that year. And those two women have been going back and forth, swapping first and second place, ever since. If Mrs. McKinney wins the pie portion, Ms. Luella’s chili receives the blue ribbon.”

“If you ask me, the judges are just too scared to do anything else,” Faith laughed.

Jake’s eyes widened. “But that’s cheating.”

“Maybe so, JT.” Faith shrugged. “But in a town this size, and with those women, it’s also called smart. Not sure what they’ll do this year with the pie portion being canceled.”

Shelby looked around The B-Cubed, took in the silver pole, mechanical bull, the country-style dance floor, and found herself relaxing a little. Even smiling. Some forty years back, Bartholomew McKinney, fourth-generation owner of The Bluebonnet up and died, buck naked, in the arms of a woman who was definitely not Mrs. McKinney.

The men in town broke out into a riot, one worthy of calling in the National Guard, when Mrs. McKinney, Sunday school teacher and woman scorned, discovered her husband’s family business had more to do with debauchery than doing people’s taxes, and turned the county’s only strip club into an actual eating establishment that followed health codes. They tried to persuade her, shut down her business, run her out of town, anything to get their “gentleman’s” club back.

It only took a few weeks, a public statement that she would be releasing her husband’s clientele list, and one bite of her buttermilk biscuits with sweet-hot pepper jelly to win the townsmen back. And she’d ruled the Sweet Plains culinary world ever since.

“Gina said this year the judging will be impartial and fair. She refuses to be bullied.”

“Mark my words, she’ll cave. They all do. Only a crazy person would be stupid enough to take on a woman defending what’s hers,” Faith added.

“You are absolutely right, Faith.” Shelby smiled. Cody might be stubborn but folks knew he wasn’t stupid. Surely he’d see that she wasn’t going to back down.