Читать книгу Tucker's Crossing - Marina Adair - Страница 11

Chapter 4

“Whoa, boy.” Cody pulled back on the reins, his Thoroughbred, Goliath, slowing to a stop. He was about three miles east of the ranch when he crested the hill and saw a sight for sore eyes. Steers. Hundreds of head of cattle dotted the valley below, chewing the grass and fighting over the sparse shade.

It was barely eight and the temperature was already threatening to suffocate him. The heat wave that had moved in and dried up their entire county hadn’t broken, and it wasn’t expected to any time soon. So why were the cows holing up here when there weren’t more than eight trees in sight? Not to mention a serious lack of water.

When Cody was a kid, this was where they would hold their breeding stock to keep it separate from the beeves they were preparing for transport and auction. It was way too early in the season for that. So why were they here?

Cody kicked Goliath into action and made good time getting down onto the valley floor. Something just didn’t sit right with him. Cows might not be the brightest of animals, but they had strong survival instincts. The only way they’d stay there was if—

“What the hell!” Cody yanked on the reins, forcing his horse to stop inches from a barbed-wire fence. The metal coils that ran a good quarter mile in each direction should have stopped a few hundred yards to the right, but the area was completely enclosed.

Sliding off the saddle, Cody hitched Goliath to the fence and checked out the gate. It wasn’t locked, but secured tight enough to make the cows think they were closed in. Tight enough that he couldn’t get the damn thing to budge. A closer inspection showed that the gate had fallen off its lower hinge, cementing the post into the packed dirt. Talk about bad luck.

Wishing he’d taken Sam up on his offer for some company, Cody unbuttoned and hung his shirt on the fence and—thank God he’d been smart enough to at least put on jeans and boots this morning—sank to his knees. He started digging up the ground around the post. The sun beat down hard and Cody felt the scrape of soil and rock against his hand. It felt good to get elbow deep in something other than memos and briefs.

Finally, enough of the soil was removed. Cody straightened, lifted, and gave the fence another forceful yank. The metal groaned as he worked it through the ground. When the steel bars cut into his palms, he kicked himself for not packing gloves in his saddlebag.

Christ, he’d been kicking himself ever since yesterday. What the hell had he started? At a time in his life when he really needed to focus, in the one place in the world where he always fought for control, the universe had decided to flip him the finger and toss Shelby Lynn into the mix.

But how could he have gone and kissed her like that? Cody wiped the sweat off his brow and nearly laughed out loud. How could he not?

One look at her in that dress, her silky hair tumbling in dark waves down the middle of her back, bare feet and scrubbed-fresh face, and he’d been tossed back to a time when he thought he stood a chance at happiness. And then he remembered why he’d come back to Sweet Plains and his only thought was that she had to leave.

Cody lifted, his legs straining under the weight of the fence, and pulled, gaining another few feet.

When her small hand had grabbed his arm, begging him not to go, he was instantly lost in those limpid eyes . . . those nipples pouting prettily under that thin dress. Her scent was everywhere, and he just reacted—pure instinct.

And when their lips had touched, she’d practically crawled up his chest. It reminded him of just how good they’d been together. In that short space in time, all the pent-up feelings about coming home fled, and all he felt was her.

Cody grunted through the last few feet and watched as a few cows wandered on over. He was going to be sore as hell tomorrow, but he knew it would be the good kind of sore.

Weighing his options made him realize just what a damn city boy he’d become. He didn’t have his dogs or men so he couldn’t round up the cattle. But they needed to get to a better pasture. Dammit. He’d have to come back for that. In the meantime, he hoped their instincts would force them to get curious, go in search of water.

Dusting off his hands, and putting his shirt back on, he took a long swig of his water and grimaced. It was hot and thick going down, but he needed the hydration. Another long swig and he mounted Goliath, wanting to get out of the heat fast, but careful not to overheat his horse. By the time they made it to the barn, he was slick with sweat and his body ached.

Man, he still couldn’t believe he’d practically had sex with Shelby Lynn right there on the counter.

That’s why he’d been bucked sideways when Jacob came in. The Shelby he knew would never have kept something so important, like the fact that they had a son together, from him. No matter how they’d ended things.

Guess you didn’t know her all that well then, did ya?

Even thinking about Jacob—about Shelby’s silence, and the whole screwed-up situation—made his stomach burn with anger.

Kicking at the gravel, Cody set off toward the line of ranch hands assembled in the yard, wishing he had time for a cold shower. Circling the barn, he followed the worn fence toward a group of men who looked as shell-shocked as he’d felt yesterday.

Time to get to it, he thought grimly.

Several dozen cowboys stood by the barn doors, shooting the breeze and doing their best to look casual. But the sudden silence that descended the moment Cody came into view told him differently.

Stopping to address the group, which now looked like they were expecting a firing squad, he reminded himself that this was what he’d come here to do, the course of action he and his brother, Noah, had decided upon.

Cody scanned the crowd and sighed. Ms. Luella wasn’t there, even though he’d made it clear that every ranch employee was to be present. Not that he was surprised the stubborn housekeeper had decided she’d face him when she was good and ready. It just meant that he’d have to talk to her one-on-one. Not something he was looking forward to.

“Thanks for meeting me on such short notice. As y’all know, my brothers and I recently inherited Tucker’s Crossing. That said, the ranch has been operating in the red the past couple years, so until we can rectify that situation and start turning a profit, we’ll be making some changes.”

Grumblings, some concerned, most offensive, shot up from the men. Man, he hated doing this. Most of these men were good cowboys, had families counting on them.

But then, so did he.

“The only way to deal with this is based on history. Would those of you who came on after my brothers and I left Tucker’s Crossing please take a step forward.”

More protests sounded about fairness and work ethic, most bookended by cursing. One by one, the new guys took a hesitant step forward, their faces expressing exactly what they thought of the selection process. The older guys, the ones with years of dedication to the ranch and job seniority, wore smug looks of satisfaction.

Cursing himself for not wearing a hat, Cody shielded his eyes from the sun. There in the rear of the crowd, hiding behind a tractor, was a halo of silver and black that could only belong to one Ms. Luella Puckett. She had positioned herself strategically so she could snoop on every word said, but go unseen by most people there.

Suppressing the urge to shout out “Howdy” and watch Ms. Luella scramble, Cody eyed all of the unfamiliar faces standing in the front row and gave them a brief nod. “It’s nice to meet you all. My name’s Cody and I want to welcome you to stay on here. The rest of you, in the back row, you’re dismissed.” Ignoring the stunned gasps and confused faces, Cody added, “You can pick up your final checks tonight.”

“This some kind of joke, son?” said Hal, a guy Cody used to help pack hay when he was a kid. Obviously, he thought there was some kind of misunderstanding.

“No joke, Hal. Like I said, you’re all dismissed and can pick up your checks on your way out. I want you gone by nightfall.”

“Wait just a minute,” Sam Holden barked.

Sam, coppered and weathered with a wiry silver scruff and sandpaper hands, had been the ranch foreman since Cody had been, as Ms. Luella told it, “knee high to a barn dog.” Sam had taught him to rope, showed up to his high school graduation when his dad had drunk himself stupid, even wrote him a letter of recommendation for his first job.

As a kid, Cody had looked up to the man in awe. But as an adult, he couldn’t help but see a coward whose job meant more than protecting an innocent kid.

“I’ve been on here since before your dad took over. Put my whole life into this ranch,” Sam said.

“Me too,” Jessup Walt, another old buck, agreed, taking a step forward. Despite the lines caused from years of working the land, his eyes were sharp, threatening.

“Never said you didn’t. But the decision’s been made, gentlemen.” With a respectful tip of the head, Cody turned to give instructions to the hands left.

Sam, having other ideas on Cody’s stance, grabbed his arm, stopping his forward movement. Instinctively, Cody spun. His body was tense but he held tight to his control.

“Your daddy would be ashamed of what’s gone on here today. You’re letting go of some good men.”

“Reckon I am.” Cody looked down at Sam’s hand gripping his forearm. A warning flashed in his eye, letting Sam know Cody was no longer that kid.

Quick to get the message, Sam let go and took a step back. “Your daddy’s rolling in his grave right now.”

“Good.”

“One day, boy,” Sam snarled, kicking up dust as he headed across the field, “you’ll regret this.”

“If anyone else has issue with how I’m running things, please let me know. If not, saddle up. Tommy,” Cody addressed the man who he’d learned had worked under Sam for the past few years and had the most experience, “I need you to move the herd from the east-valley holding area to the pasture west of the foothills. And make sure there’s plenty of water.”

“You got it, boss,” Tommy said, but Cody didn’t miss the anger under his words or the look he sent Sam.

Cody turned and headed for the house, heart heavy.

He had known most of these men when they were young, newlyweds or proud papas who called Cody “son.” But he also knew these men when they turned their heads, went on working or hoeing or plowing when Cody stumbled out of his house, nose bloodied, lip puckered, his daddy’s fingerprints all over him. They hadn’t been his friends, they hadn’t been his family; they were just men working the land and because of the way they’d turned their heads, they had to go.

Cody was halfway through the barn when one of the younger ranch hands fell into step. “Mr. Tucker, sir.” Cody slowed his pace, but didn’t stop. He still had to face Ms. Luella before he could shower. “Name’s Dylan. Dylan Branson. I’m thankful to you for keeping me on.”

“But?”

“Well, a lot of those men have families counting on them. Finding work will be hard for the older ones.”

Cody stopped short, his voice tight with authority when he spoke. “I understand the ramifications. But understand that I also have a family to think about.”

“Yes, sir,” Dylan said, taking off his hat. “But, I don’t know if you’re aware, Sam Holden’s granddaughter moved in with him a few years back. She’s been having some sort of medical issues and I know money’s tight. Losing this job will be a real hardship for them.”

Cody took a breath, Dylan’s words giving him serious pause. Sam was a coward. Stood by while Silas beat Beau to a bloody pulp, but if Cody was responsible for making his grandkid suffer, did that make him any better?

Suddenly unsure of his plan, he was even more uncertain of his first impression of the younger wrangler. His original thought when he’d looked at the pretty boy was that Dylan was a pampered country kid with a too-big chip on his shoulder and too little dirt under his nails. But it took a good person to look out for the other guy. And guts to call the boss on his decision.

Cody shook Dylan’s hand. “I appreciate the heads-up and I’ll make sure his grandkid is taken care of.”

The kid looked shocked at Cody’s generosity. Well, if he was using Silas as a baseline for judging him and his brothers, then his reaction would make sense. If his dad had been faced with the same situation, there was no way he’d extend medical benefits. Hell, he probably wouldn’t even have paid the fired hands for the rest of the week like Cody was going to.

“If you need any help until you hire a new foreman—”

“You’re looking at the new foreman.”

Cody didn’t know who was more surprised by his admission—Dylan or himself. Being the foreman was a hands-on, down-and-dirty, full-time job. Not that Cody wasn’t up for the challenge. He’d never shied away from hard work. But taking over the role of foreman would mean he’d have to be more invested in Tucker’s Crossing than he’d originally intended.

Maybe that was a good thing. It would allow him to hear the happenings on the ranch firsthand. Let him see what his old man had done to take what was one of the most lucrative cattle ranches in this part of the state and run it into the ground.

Unable to sleep again last night, Cody had taken a look at the books. The ranch was doing fine until about three years ago—just about the same time Shelby moved in. Coincidence? Cody hoped so, even though his gut was telling him the two were somehow connected.

Plus, Cody didn’t believe in coincidences.

“I could use some help finding some new men though. We’re going to need a few new hands if I’m to get the ranch up and running like it used to be.”

Because suddenly he knew that’s what he needed to do. No sense in fulfilling the terms of the will, only to inherit a ranch that was a stone’s skip from sinking.

“You got it, boss. I’ll put the word around town that the Tuckers are hiring.”

“Appreciate it.”

Cody made his way through the barn, across the gravel drive, and up the back steps to the porch. The smell of Ms. Luella’s famous chili greeted him.

Cody reached for the screen door and hesitated. How did you tell a woman like Ms. Luella Puckett that after thirty years of service, she was fired?

Most people gave Ms. Luella—and her three-county-radius reputation—a wide berth. It was common knowledge that Silas had only kept her on all these years because of her blue-ribbon chili and sell-your-soul-for pies. But Cody knew that hidden beneath that stubborn pride and nasty disposition was a woman with a big heart.

“Do I need to get the swatter?” the housekeeper snapped her welcome home. Not even bothering to face Cody, she continued stirring the chili, her plump hips rotating with each swirl of the spoon. She gave a few disciplinary tuts of the tongue and mumbled loudly under her breath, “Hanging like flies on the screen door in Ju-ly. Did you lose all your manners in that big city?”

“And good afternoon to you too, Ms. Luella,” Cody replied to the woman who had practically raised him. After his mama died, Ms. Luella was the only maternal figure in the Tucker boys’ lives. And using the words “maternal” and “Ms. Luella” in the same sentence—hell the same conversation—was a stretch.

“It’s Ms. Luella, now, is it?” She spun around, the whites of her eyes wide with accusation and something new that made Cody’s heart give a little twist—disappointment. “Does that make it easier when throwing an old lady out on her rump?”

Cody was struck that after all these years, she still looked the same. A robust woman with “hands and legs made for ranching,” as his mama used to say. Her hair, more salt than pepper these days, was twisted tight into a bun and perched on the crown of her head. It seemed the only thing that had changed were her clothes.

Gone were the work pants and button-down Western top. In their place she wore a flowered print skirt that swished back and forth as she moved about the kitchen, a lavender blouse, and—hold up—was that blush on her cheeks?

My, my . . . seemed that after thirty-five years of mourning the loss of her Chester, Ms. Luella had finally found herself a man—or someone she meant to impress. Good for her, Cody thought.

“Noticed you weren’t at the ranch meeting,” Cody started. “I thought I made myself pretty clear, all employees were to attend.”

“I reckon you did.” She brushed off his attempt at having some kind of conversation the same way she would a pesky fly. “Now, sit yourself down and have some of my lemon icebox pie.”

Cody, who hadn’t made it past the doorway yet, gathered up all the patience he had, and headed toward the table. This was going to be as bad as coming home. But maybe a slice of pie would help it all go down a little easier.

“Don’t you be thinking just ’cuz you’re all grown up and in that ridiculous shirt of yours that you can be walking on my scrubbed floors with those boots.”

“What’s wrong with my shirt?” Cody said, feeling a headache coming on. One that would last, oh, say twelve months. But he toed off one boot, then the other, leaving them on the designated mat by the door.

“Besides looking like you’re here to sell me Jesus?” One hand planted sternly on each rounded hip, she eyed his ensemble, which now that Cody thought about it did look ridiculous, especially since he was certain that by now a few dozen calloused cowboys had heard he’d elected himself the new foreman.

“I meant what I said out there, and don’t pretend that you didn’t hear. I saw your little head peek out from behind the barn.”

“Are you calling me a snoop?”

“If the shoe fits. And the last thing I want to do is let you go, but Noah and I agree we don’t want anyone around that was here when Beau was a kid. We want him to have a clean slate with this place.”

“And you think letting me go will solve your problems? You and I both know you ain’t never letting Beau come back here. You’re so busy controlling everyone’s lives and trying to make up for your daddy that . . .” Luella faded off, and set her spoon on the counter. “Listen to me, son.”

“Dammit, Luella. I’m not a boy anymore.”

“Then stop acting like one. At least for JT’s sake. Men don’t run from their pasts. They chase it, rope it, take it to the ground, and hog-tie it.” Luella stepped into Cody’s space, punching at him with her pudgy finger.

What the hell? She knew about Jake?

“Lulu.”

“And don’t you Lulu me!” She crossed back to the stove and opened the upper cupboard, taking out a pair of handcuffs. “I remember when you were no bigger than a turd. Then your mama died and you walked around like all the problems of the world were yours to fix.”

Before Cody could get to her side, Lulu shackled the cuffs to one plump hand, snaked the chain through the oven handle and secured it with a loud snap to the other hand.

“Well, I ain’t nobody’s problem! And I ain’t yours to fix, you hear me? This here is my home and you and your brothers are going to have to pull my body from this here stove kicking and a-screaming if you want me gone.”

“What the hell are you doing?” Cody yanked at the cuffs. They didn’t budge.

“It’s called a sit-in. And watch your mouth before I wash it out.”

Cody grinned. “And just how do you reckon you’ll manage to do that, being attached to the oven and all?”

“Oh, I have my ways, Cody Tucker. I have my ways.” Luella plopped her backside on a chair she had placed next to the stove. “Now you get out of my kitchen. You got me so riled I’m getting the hives.”

“This is funny as all get-out, but I can’t leave you here cuffed to the stove.” He fiddled with the handcuffs. Not only were they the real deal, but they also weren’t coming off anytime soon. “Where’s the key?”

“You just want them keys so you can throw me out. Do I have ‘stupid’ plastered across my forehead?”

“Throwing a fit isn’t going to make a difference. I’ve already made my mind up, and no matter how hard this is, you have to go.”

Luella grabbed a fork off the counter and jabbed it into Cody’s hand—hard.

“Ow!”

“Well, that’s what you get. And you can tell that cheating Viola McKinney, her plan didn’t work.” Ms. Luella pulled back the fork and stabbed him again, even harder.

Cody groaned audibly and yanked the fork out of her hands. “Enough!”

“You’re telling me!” She jerked her head toward the stove. “Get a spoon and try that there in the pot.”

Cody rubbed his hand and, noting that a bruise was already forming, did as told, knowing she wouldn’t listen until she had been heard and he’d been fed. He reached for the wooden spoon and . . .

“Don’t you even think about touching my lucky spoon; you know better.” He did. Ms. Luella’d had that spoon since before he could remember and no one, not even Silas, was allowed to touch it. “Get a spoon from the drawer like a civilized person and see why you ain’t kicking me out. The Summer Sweet Spectacular cook-off is mine to win this year.”

“Hang on,” Cody said, ignoring the chili for the moment. “You think this is about the damn cook-off?” Would things in Sweet Plains ever change? “Let me get this straight, you think I fired all those men as a cover-up to get you out of my kitchen?”

“To hear you say it breaks my heart. And yes, Viola McKinney knows my stove’s been acting up.” Ms. Luella lifted the side of her apron and dabbed at the corners of her very dry eyes. “Now get out before I start crying.”

“But—”

“I said get!”

Cody shook his head, completely at a loss. “Have it your way, but this isn’t over.” He paused, hating to see her shackled to an appliance, which was probably her goal. “You sure you don’t want me to uncuff you? I won’t make you leave tonight.”

Luella threw a wet dishrag at him. Good thing his reflexes were faster than her aim.

“You’re forgetting something. The only person in this world more stubborn than you is me. And I’m winning that blue ribbon this year.” Ms. Luella pointed an accusing finger at him. “Now grab that piece of pie on the table and eat up. You’re looking a little thin for my taste. How’re you going to catch the eye of that pretty Ms. Shelby looking like a starved longhorn?”

Cody looked down at his hundred and ninety pounds of tight muscle and laughed. But he’d been dreaming about Ms. Lulu’s lemon icebox pie for nearly fifteen years. Maybe just a bite. Plus, it would give him a chance to ask a few questions.

“So, about Shelby Lynn’s son, what’s he like?”

“Just like you, only smaller. And with manners.”

Cody realized he was standing with a plate in his hand and took a seat. “I think he already hates me.”

Ms. Luella’s gray eyes softened. “He’s a sweet boy. Confused and scared and wondering if you’ll like him. If he’ll like you. Had a hard time of it in his short life. And so has his mama, so you’d better be nice to her or you’ll answer to me.”

“I keep telling you, Lulu, you won’t be here long enough for anyone to answer to.”

Not wanting to hear anything else about how hard Shelby had had it while she was keeping his son from him, Cody grabbed the fork that Ms. Luella had stabbed him with, and tucked into the piece of pie she’d laid out. This didn’t mean a truce—he would get her out of there—but he might as well enjoy the pie first.

He stuck the first bite in and paused, closing his eyes to savor the moment. The tangy lemon bit at his tongue while the creamy confection melted in his mouth and the faint hint of . . . what the hell?

Swallowing down the need to gag, Cody ran to the sink and spit out the entire contents of his mouth and every bit of saliva that remained. Coughing and hacking he bit out, “What the hell is in that?”

“Soap.”

“Let me get this straight. You’re going to blackmail a Tucker, and you want me”—Gina sat forward on the edge of her intimidatingly ergonomic seat and swung her arm around to encompass the mahogany, the Ivy League diploma, the leather-bound tomes, and all that was Regina Echols, Attorney at Law—“to help you?”

Shelby, on the other hand, hadn’t stopped pacing since she’d entered Gina’s office. She knew what she was asking her friend, but she didn’t see any other solution. Not one that ended up with Jake getting what he deserved.

“Will you stop saying blackmail? I am merely exploiting his weakness for my gain.”

“Blackmail.” Gina managed to grab a dictionary from the top shelf, and flip to the precise page without even pausing. “To force or coerce a person into a particular action or statement.” Although she spoke in a monotone, her words somehow still seemed to drip with sarcasm.

Shelby stopped pacing, finally looking her friend in the eye. “You make it sound so . . . illegal.”

“It is. And it usually leads to hard time.” Gina snapped the dictionary shut and leaned back, kicking her feet up on the desktop and folding her hands behind her head. “I’m in.”

“Because it’s illegal?”

“No, because you’re going to take over the cook-off.”

“What? No way.” Shelby couldn’t imagine a more difficult situation. Living with Ms. Luella and being forced to judge her cooking against Mrs. McKinney’s. People had broken limbs to avoid this exact situation. “I have too much on my plate already. How about I volunteer a batch of my cupcakes for the auction? Plus, I heard Logan—the cook-off is your job.”

“No, my job is to make sure it gets done. Doesn’t mean I can’t delegate. I rock at delegating.” Gina scribbled something on a piece of paper and flipped it around. “Sign there,” she said, pointing to the impromptu contract, then, “It’s binding.”

“Come on, Gina. Anything else. I am so stressed out over Cody.” Shelby leaned in. “Those women will sense my weakness and swarm.”

“Then get judges. I don’t care. Just get it done. Logan offered to run the football game, but I have the pageant, dance, and auction to plan. And with yours truly heading the committee, every last Lady of Sweet has opted to pull out, leaving me with zero help.”

Shelby considered her options. Getting people to volunteer willingly would be hard but, without Gina, securing Jake a chance to grow up here was impossible. “Fine. Me and my cupcakes are at your disposal.”

Gina wiggled her brows. “And I am going to exploit those cupcakes for all they’re worth.” Wheeling and dealing with a prosecutor was always a bad idea.

Gina took out a fresh contract, this one a binding agreement between her and Cody, and spun it to face Shelby. It was an altered version of the previous one with handwritten notes in the margin.

“You were already going to help me,” Shelby accused.

“Yup. I’m tired of seeing the men you care about walk all over you.”

“They don’t walk all over me.”

But they had. And she had let them. Cody had left her pregnant, forcing her to raise their son alone, while Preston had invaded every aspect of her life, controlling her world to the point of cruelty. Over the years, he’d stripped her of any self-worth she had left, keeping her a prisoner in a loveless marriage because she was too scared to leave. But in the end she’d managed to get away and made a life for her and Jake here in Sweet Plains.

That’s why after her not-so-successful first encounter with Cody, Shelby had done her best to avoid him—and a heated replay of events. Until she came up with a new plan, one that would guarantee their place at the ranch and give Jake a shot at a relationship with Cody, she’d steer clear of him, even if it meant leaving for work at the hospital early.

Not that she had needed to. Cody had kept himself pretty scarce, which only added to her determination to find a solution.

Then, just before Mr. Lowell’s emergency appendectomy and after the removal of a Lego Star Wars figure from Scotty Grimmy’s nose, Shelby got an idea. One sparked from Faith’s comment that only a crazy person would be stupid enough to take on a woman defending what’s hers. Her new plan would take a lot of courage—and Gina’s help to make it possible.

“Okay, maybe they walked over me, as in past tense,” Shelby admitted, chin high. “But I’m a new woman now.”

Gina simply sat behind her desk, shaking her head, her mouth gaping open. “Ohmygod! You had sex with him!”

“I did not have,” Shelby dropped her voice, “sex with Cody Tucker.”

“Then why are you whispering?”

Shelby’s eyes slid shut. “Because I don’t want the entire office to think I had sex with him.”

“You’re lying.”

“I am not lying.” Shelby threw Gina a stern look; too bad her flaming cheeks ruined the effect. “Fine, we may have accidentally kissed, but we did not have sex.”

“How does one accidentally kiss? Is that like accidentally getting knocked up?” Gina made a sound that translated into “bullshit.”

“No.” Shelby’s pacing increased with each word. “We were yelling, and then he said he was leaving. And I said no—”

“You said no?”

Shelby sank into the seat across from Gina. “Told you I wasn’t a pushover anymore.”

“Right, because letting the man who left you pregnant and broke get to first base within an hour of reconnecting is such a non-pushover thing to do.” Gina clutched her heart dramatically. “Thank God, you didn’t let him leave.”

“Actually, we rounded second. Now do you want me to finish or not?” Gina circled her hand for Shelby to continue. “He said, ‘Damn you, woman’ and then kissed me. And I mean kissed me.”

“How very caveman of him.” Gina raised a brow. “Was it good?”

“It was phenomenal. Better than I remembered. I think I would have let him . . . you know . . . right there on the counter—”

Gina wiggled her fingers in a grand “big whoop” gesture. “On the counter? Wow, pretty bold for a girl who can’t say sex.”

“Sex. And it was hot.”

“Okay, caveman or not, that is hot.”

Shelby felt her body heat up at the memory and dropped her face into her hands. Up until a moment ago, she had convinced herself that it was no big deal, but now, discussing it with Gina, it seemed all too real. “I know. But then we started arguing, and then Jake came in.”

“So you argued before you got horizontal on the cutting board and after? Wow, that sounds healthy.”

Shelby shrugged. When put that way, it sounded even worse than she had originally thought. They had never argued when they were together. Who was she kidding? Cody was too restrained to even get angry, let alone argue. That side of him had been a complete surprise. And kind of a turn-on.

“You sure know how to pick ’em.” Gina, obviously bored with Shelby’s sex life, pointed to the contract. “Okay, truth time. Why do you want to change the terms of this?”

“Jake needs a dad, and it’s not like he thinks Preston’s his father.”

Shelby had waited months for Cody to come back. Preston, afraid that stress and lack of sleep would end up harming the baby, tracked him down and confronted him. He told Cody to man up and do right by Shelby. Preston came back with a black eye, split lip, and a message for Shelby: Cody never intended on marrying her, and he didn’t want a kid.

Preston had tried to convince her to name him as the father on the birth certificate and give Jake the last name of Van Warren, arguing that then Jacob could qualify for his health insurance, and they wouldn’t have to count on Cody to sign important documents. Although she gave in on the first count, Shelby had been adamant that Jake’s last name would be Tucker.

“Now that he’s met Cody,” Shelby continued, “I want Jake to get the chance to at least know him. And this just states that Cody is Jake’s biological father. Makes the relationship legal. I had hoped that he would take one look at Jake and fall in love with him like I did, then demand to be a part of his life.”

“And?”

Shelby closed her eyes, thinking back to the panicked look on his face when he’d made the connection that Jake was his. It was the same holy-shit look of shock that he’d given her that last night, before he tore out of Austin for destinations unknown.

“And I haven’t seen him all day.”

“You’ve been at work all day,” Gina challenged.

She had, but that was beside the point. “He was in the office all night, and then out of the house this morning before Ms. Luella showed up.”

“Then how do you know he’ll even be there when you get back?”

Shelby swallowed. Looked out the window, at the clock, and then at the photo of Gina’s adorable niece, Sidney, smashing a head of broccoli with a shovel. Anything to avoid looking her friend in the eye.

“Ooh, this must be good.” Gina dropped her feet to the floor and leaned toward Shelby. “Spill or find new counsel.”

Shelby sent her a threatening glare, then lifted her purse and pulled out a blue wire with a black doohickey attached to the end of it. God, this was embarrassing.

“And that would be?”

“The center coil wire to his distributor cap. Ms. Luella helped me disconnect it this morning when Cody took off on his mammoth of a horse. She promised me that all I had to do was reconnect it, and it would run like new, and he’d never know who did it.”

“And what if Cody called Mister and just got a new one?” Shelby had the decency to blush. “Let me guess, Ms. Luella blackmailed, excuse me, I meant to say exploited, Mister’s love for fried food to ensure he was temporarily out.”

“Mister does love his hushpuppies. And peach pie,” Shelby added.

“And apparently Ms. Luella.” Gina grinned and picked up one of the many legal pads from her top drawer, set it on her desk and poised her pen. She jotted down a few notes and then looked up at Shelby. “Before we start, I need to know you understand that you can’t make a man love someone, Shell. Promise me that isn’t what this is about.”

“That’s just it. I think that Cody grew up with such a skewed version of love that he doesn’t know what to do when he experiences it. Love is unpredictable and complicated and makes you feel like you’re spinning out of control. And for a man who’s terrified of losing control, it’s his worst nightmare. So he runs.”

“And you want to stop him from running?”

“Long enough to see what a great kid Jake is. Just because he didn’t want me, doesn’t mean he won’t want his son.”

Shelby expected Gina to pick up her pen and start writing. Instead her friend spared her a look, the same one Shelby had once given her when Gina finally confessed, over two bottles of wine and a bag of pork rinds, that she was in love with Logan. Had been for most of her life.

“And what if he also wants you, Shell?”