Читать книгу Expecting Thunder's Baby - Sheri WhiteFeather - Страница 6

Afew days later, Carrie manned the front desk at the Lipton Lodge Motel while Thunder interviewed her parents in the backroom office. They’d been holed up for what seemed like hours.

Edgy, she glanced at her watch. The interview had been only forty-five minutes, but that was long enough. She doubted that they were talking about Julia Alcott the entire time. Carrie’s parents hadn’t known her that well. Of course after Julia had been kidnapped, Daisy and Paul Lipton had been glued to the TV, worrying and wondering about the young woman who used to work for them. Carrie had been fretful, too. Things like that weren’t supposed to happen in Cactus Wren County.

She glanced out the floor-to-ceiling windows, her mind wandering. Cactus Wren had been named after the state bird, a little creature that built a variety of nests, living in one and using the others as decoys.

Ironically, Carrie knew all about phony shelters, about keeping herself safe, at least in an emotional sense. She was notorious for dating men like Kevin, for using them as decoys. Only her relationship with Kevin had just blown up in her face.

Why?

Because Kevin didn’t challenge her. He didn’t ignite her blood. He didn’t make her long for more.

But Thunder did, damn him. So she’d confided in Kevin, admitting how Thunder affected her, even after all these years.

And what did Kevin do?

He’d remained true to character, letting her go without a fight. Of course he’d offered to stay friends with her, to lend an ear if she ever needed to talk. But that didn’t ease her frustration or make her any less angry at Thunder. Just like that, he’d spun back into her life, creating chaos like the human tornado he was.

And despite her better judgment, she wanted to have a knockdown, drag-out affair with her former spouse, then boot him straight out of her bed.

Only knowing Thunder, he wouldn’t give a damn. He wouldn’t care if she cleansed her soul with sex, as long as he was getting his rocks off, too.

No, she thought. She wouldn’t sleep with him.

The office door opened and voices emerged. Carrie turned around and saw her parents with Thunder. The familiarity made her ache.

Daisy and Paul had loved Thunder like a son.

Carrie’s mom had her arm looped through his. She was a medium-boned, slightly plump, pretty brunette who wore stylish clothes and chattered incessantly. Carrie’s dad stood tall and trim and quiet. His dark, thinning hair was laced with gray, and the desert sun had bronzed his skin. Although he was one-quarter Cherokee, he didn’t have a CDIB card, a Certificate of Degree of Indian Blood, to prove it.

Thunder glanced up and caught Carrie’s gaze. Daisy released his arm and gave it a maternal pat. He didn’t seem to mind, but his mother was the sort of woman who fussed and fawned over grown men, too.

“Do you have a minute?” he asked Carrie.

“Of course she does,” Daisy said. “She’s due for a break.”

Carrie wanted to give her mother a swift kick in the rear. Her dad, too. He remained much too silent.

“We can go outside.” Carrie headed to the glass door that led to the front of the building, and Thunder opened it for her. She knew her parents were watching.

Once she and Thunder were standing on the walkway that led to the motel rooms, he squinted at her. Although the spring weather was comfortable, the sun was bright.

“How about a soda?” he asked.

“That sounds good.” Her throat was suddenly parched. Being this close to him was giving her that knee-jerk reaction she’d stupidly told Kevin about.

They strolled to the nearest vending machine, and he fed it the appropriate amount of coins, choosing a grape drink for her and a lemon-lime for himself.

Carrie glared at him.

“What?” he said.

“You didn’t even ask me what I wanted.”

“I know what you like.”

“Maybe my tastes have changed.”

“Then take this one.” He thrust his can at her.

She accepted the lemon-lime and stiffed him with the grape, knowing that it was his least favorite, that it reminded him of cough syrup.

He popped the top and took a swig. He didn’t make a face. He drank it as though it quenched his thirst just the same.

She followed suit, waiting for him to speak. He finished his soda first, crushing the can and chucking it in the recycle bin.

“I invited your parents to dinner,” he said.

She glared at him all over again. “What for?”

“Because my mom asked me to. She wants my family to entertain yours.”

Good grief. “When? And where?”

“Tomorrow at the old homestead.”

The ancient property where he’d grown up, she thought. A place with mesquite trees, an adobe patio and a weathered barn.

“My family misses yours,” he said, his expression deep and dark, his frown lines more pronounced. “They wanted to stay in touch, but it got awkward after the divorce…”

His words trailed, but his meaning was clear. For him, it was still awkward. For Carrie, too. They’d got married on the homestead.

“Our folks were compatible in-laws,” she said.

“Yeah.” He tugged his hand through his hair, making the strands spike. “I’m supposed to invite you, as well. My parents miss you, too.”

Her heart squeezed. She’d loved the Truenos as much as they’d loved her. “Will you be there?”

He nodded. “Mom would pitch a fit if I bailed out.”

“What about Dylan?”

“He’ll be around. He just got back in town.”

“I’d like to see everyone.”

“Then I’ll tell my meddling mom that you’re coming.” He smiled a little. “I don’t know how my dad deals with having such a pushy wife.”

She smiled, too. “The same way my dad does.”

“Poor bastards.”

“Thunder.” She scolded him, and they both laughed.

Then she caught him giving her one of his blatant looks, stabbing her with hot, hard energy. She lifted her soda and took a sip, wetting her mouth.

But it didn’t help.

Carrie’s ex-husband was seducing her all over again.

On Monday Carrie took her own car to the Trueno’s house. She pulled into the graveled driveway and parked behind her parents’ sedan. Scanning the other vehicles, she noticed a big black Hummer vehicle with California plates. Thunder’s L.A. lifestyle was showing.

Nervous, she climbed out of her car and smoothed her clothes. She’d chosen jeans and a white eyelet blouse, with a turquoise tank top underneath. Her belt and boots were tooled leather.

The property looked nearly the same, close enough to pincushion her memories, to leave sharp little points in her brain. The house had been built before Cactus Wren had become an official county. The Truenos’ neighbors were still few and far between. Carrie looked at the trees that shaded her path. They were twenty to thirty feet tall, with smooth, dark brown barks that separated into long, shaggy strips. On her wedding day, they’d been decorated with silver ribbon.

She shook away the image and proceeded to a wraparound porch. While she knocked on the door, her heart pounded just as hard. Margaret Trueno, Thunder’s mother, answered the door.

The older woman squealed, invited her inside, then latched onto her for a hug. Margaret had gained about twenty pounds, and her shoulder-length hair was salted with gray, marking the years they’d been apart. She smelled sweet and earthy, like the herbs she’d always grown on her windowsill.

They stepped back to gaze at each other. “You’re as stunning as ever,” Margaret said.

Carrie smiled. “So are you.” Thunder’s mom had enhanced her beauty with a colorful cotton dress and the handcrafted jewelry she used to sell at powwows.

“I’m in my sixties.”

“We’re all getting older.”

Margaret nodded, and Carrie remembered how much she’d wanted to be a grandmother.

“Is that our girl?” a man asked.

Thunder’s father. Carrie saw Nolan Trueno coming around the corner. He was as solid as an oak and handsome in the way that made outdoorsy men look ruggedly distinguished.

He stepped forward and kissed her cheek. He and his wife had been raised on tribal lands, but they’d left the reservation so Nolan could attend a state university, where he’d earned a degree in biology. Later, he and Margaret had bought the homestead, keeping recreational horses and raising two sons.

“I’ve been waiting for you to get here,” he said. “I didn’t want to light the barbecue until you arrived. Your dad and the boys are out back.”

“And my mom?”

“In the kitchen,” Margaret supplied. “She’s been helping me with the salads and side dishes.”

In no time, Carrie was escorted onto the patio. Thunder snared her like a rabbit. He stood up to greet her, and she felt the impact of his presence. Behind him, in a rock-garden setting, was the rustic gazebo where they’d exchanged vows. Carrie shifted her gaze away from it.

Thunder reintroduced her to Dylan, and she searched for evidence of the boy he used to be. But all she saw was a dark-eyed man with a square jaw and killer cheekbones. He wore his hair long, and his clothes were a tad dusty, as though he’d spent the earlier part of the day in the barn. Dylan was as tall as his older brother but not quite as broad. His muscles were leaner, rangier, cut a bit more sharply. She suspected that he was still boxing, still blowing off steam in the ring.

“You’re looking good,” he told her, taking both of her hands in his and openly flirting.

Damn, she thought. Not only was Dylan gorgeous, he had a wicked sense of humor. She could tell he was trying to get Thunder’s goat. “Thank you. So are you.”

Thunder nudged his brother out of the way, and Dylan winked at Carrie. Suddenly she realized how dangerous all of this was. Thunder had no qualms about restaking his claim.

But that didn’t mean he’d be getting what he was after.

Thunder listened to the conversations going on around him. The moms blabbed throughout the meal, catching up on each other’s lives. The dads were enjoying themselves, too. As for the divorced offspring…

Carrie added more margarine to her corn, seemingly busy with her food, and Thunder worked out a plan to be with her.

In her bed, he thought.

Why fight the attraction? Why drive himself crazy with it?

He looked up and caught Dylan watching him. The younger man lifted his beer, then tipped it in a subtle toast, wishing Thunder luck with his ex.

Wise guy, Thunder thought.

A few minutes later Dylan’s expression turned serious, and Thunder knew his brother’s thoughts had wandered, that the case they were working on had entered his mind, casting its dark shadow. He’d been traveling extensively, looking for clues, for answers, for someone who might know where Julia and Miriam were, but he hadn’t uncovered any leads.

After dinner Thunder finagled some alone time with Carrie. Not that it took much finagling. Both sets of parents seemed pleased that they’d gone off by themselves.

They walked toward the barn. The sun was in the process of setting, turning the sky a soft reddish hue.

“Is Dylan’s ranch close by?” Carrie asked.

Thunder frowned. He hadn’t whisked her away to discuss his brother. “No. It’s on the west side of town. Near the river.”

“And that’s where he found Julia?”

“Yes.” They kept walking, taking a path lined with spiny shrubs, foliage that grew comfortably in the dry desert soil.

She turned to look at him. “Julia was pretty when she was young.”

He had no idea where this conversation was leading. “So?”

“So…has Dylan mentioned if he’s attracted to her?”

Thunder stopped and shook his head. “What are you doing? Trying to make something romantic out of this? She was bound and gagged when he found her, with rope burns on her wrists and ankles and dirt and dust on her face and clothes.”

A small breeze blew, stirring Carrie’s hair. “I’ll bet he carried her out of that trailer.”

“I’ve carried victims out of agonizing situations, too.” But the only time he’d ever felt truly helpless was when Carrie had lost the baby. She’d been cramped into a ball, bleeding onto the bed, and he hadn’t been able to do a damn thing. Nothing but dial 9-1-1. “Can we change the subject?”

“Fine. What do you want to talk about?”

“Us.”

She sighed, and the sound drifted into the air. “There is no us, Thunder.”

“There could be.”

She gave him a suspicious look. “What do you mean?”

“I want you to dump Kevin and come to California with me.”

She sucked in a breath. “Just like that? I’m supposed to run off with my ex-husband?”

“Just for a few weeks. During your vacation.”

“That’s crazy,” she said, scoffing at the idea.

They reached the barn, and he escorted her inside. The building housed two geldings, as well as an Australian shepherd that slept in the tack room.

When the lazy old dog roused from his nap and lumbered forward to greet them, Carrie petted his mottled head, using him as a diversion.

Thunder wasn’t about to give up. Being this close to Carrie was making him hungry for the past, for the kind of passion they’d had when they were young. He wanted to rekindle those forbidden feelings, those desperate, consume-each-other moments. “We can work on being friends.”

She quit petting the dog, stopping to give Thunder a serious study. Then she crossed her arms, using body language that was far from cordial. “You’re just trying to get me into bed.”

He sent her a cheeky grin. “What’s wrong with being friendly lovers?”

She punched his shoulder. “You’re incorrigible.”

He ignored the girly hit. She’d never learned to form a proper fist. “I’m honest, Carrie. I always was.”

“I’m not sleeping with you.”

His gut churned. “Because of Kevin?”

“This doesn’t have anything to do with him. We’re not dating anymore.”

“Really?” His confidence boosted a notch. “Why? Because you started lusting after me again?”

She punched him again. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Even if it’s true?” He knew he was making headway. He could see a flicker of resolve in her eyes. “How about if we start off as friends and see where it leads?”

“What if it doesn’t lead anywhere?”

“Then I’m screwed. Or not screwed.” He chuckled at his own pathetic wit. “I’m willing to take my chances.” He paused, turned serious. “Honestly, Carrie, I’d really like to try to be friends. I’ve never been comfortable with the way things ended between us.”

“I need to think about it.”

“Would it help if I told you that I have a house on the beach?” he asked, recalling the seascape prints on her walls.

She didn’t respond, but he figured the surf and sand was food for thought. Silent, she headed for the stalls. The horses poked their heads over the wooden doors, curious to see who was visiting them. The dog followed along. So did Thunder. He liked watching Carrie. He liked the way she moved, the way her hips rocked.

She turned, then blindsided him with a question. “How long has it been since you’ve been with someone?”

He tried not to wince, to let his discomfort show. He didn’t keep score. But he always played it safe. He used condoms and got regular HIV tests. “I’m not going to answer something like that.”

She pressed the issue. “Why not? Because it’s only been a month? A week? A few days?”

“A few days? How would that be possible? I’ve been sleeping here.”

“In the barn?”

“At my parents’ house, smarty.”

“I don’t want to bump into your current lover in California, Thunder. I don’t want to get into a catfight with some jealous blonde.”

He couldn’t help but smile. “Does that mean you’re coming home with me?”

“No. It just means that I’m assessing the situation.”

His smile fell. “There isn’t anyone who’s going to be jealous. I’ve never been involved with a woman who’s cared about me that much.” He paused, reached out to touch her, to brush his knuckles along her jaw. “No one but you.”

“And look what happened.” She covered his hand with hers. “We lost everything.”

“But we’re keeping it light this time. We’re embarking on friendship.”

“And sex, if you get your way.”

“Sex doesn’t have to be complicated.” He leaned in to kiss her, to taste what he’d been missing, but she slipped away.

Leaving him hanging, waiting and wondering what her final answer would be.