Читать книгу The Cowgirl's Little Secret - Silver James - Страница 11

Five

Cord didn’t argue with Jolie. He rolled to the door, opened it and maneuvered his wheelchair out. Chance was leaning against the wall nearby but straightened immediately.

“What’s the plan?”

Cord lifted his chin to indicate Jolie was right behind him and Chance offered an almost imperceptible nod. They’d talk later, and Cord would lay out his plan then. His brother knew him well and didn’t press for an answer to his question.

Jolie huffed to a stop behind him, unable to squeeze around the chair without bumping into him. He stifled the smile threatening to reveal his thoughts. She’d thrown down the gauntlet, and he’d picked it up without hesitation.

Giggles drew his attention as his sister-in-law and CJ appeared at the end of the hall. The boy stomped toward them, stopping in front of Chance.

Rearing his head back, hands fisted on his hips, CJ stared up. “Who’re you?”

“My name is Chance. I’m your—” He glanced at Cord before shifting his gaze to Jolie. “Your dad and I are brothers.”

“What’s that mean, Mommy?”

Jolie’s eyes narrowed and her lips pursed. “I don’t want to talk about this right now.”

“But, Mommy—”

“He’s your uncle, CJ. Okay?”

“Okay. Do I have more?”

“You do.” Cord replied before Jolie could. “Besides Chance, there’s Clay, Cash and Chase.”

“Are they all grown-ups?”

“Yup.”

CJ sighed and offered puppy-dog eyes. “Are there any other kids?”

Jolie choked, and Cord wondered if he’d have to perform the Heimlich maneuver, but then remembered he couldn’t stand up to administer it. Instead, he grinned at the boy but watched Jolie’s face. “Just you, CJ, but maybe your mom and I could work on that for you. Maybe a little sister.” Oh, yeah, that got a rise out of her. He glanced back at his son.

His son—and wasn’t that a kick in the pants—screwed up his face as if he’d just taken a swig of lemon juice. “No girls. Girls are yucky.” CJ had the good graces to glance up at his mother and then over at Cassie. “Well...some girls are okay. Like Mommy and Miss Cassie.”

Jolie’s face turned red, and had they been in the cartoons, steam would be hissing from her ears. He’d forgotten how much fun it was to push her buttons.

Without pausing for breath or giving his mother a chance to respond, CJ launched into his next subject. “Miss Cassie has horses. Do you have horses...uh...?” At a loss for what to call him, CJ’s voice trailed off.

“I do have horses, bubba. And you can ride them whenever you want.” He reached for the boy and tugged him a little closer. “Not sure what to call me, right?” Big eyed, CJ nodded. “Well, Dad works. Or Daddy. Whatever you’d like.”

“Daddy. I like that.”

Jolie made a strangled noise and reached for CJ, but Cord ignored her. “I like that too, bubba.”

“We have to go, CJ.” Jolie was about to snap, judging by her tone of voice and expression.

“No. I wanna stay with Daddy.”

Shoving the wheelchair out of her way, she took CJ’s arm. “No. Not today.” She glared at Cord, her expression promising retribution with a big dose of “not now, not ever.”

Cord figured he had to be the most perverse man who ever lived, because fighting with Jolie had been something he missed. A lot. Forget the makeup sex that came after. There was something...exhilarating about seeing her color rise, her fists tighten and her stubborn chin jut toward him as her eyes flashed like broken glass under a hot summer sun.

“No. Not today,” he agreed easily. “Tomorrow.” He smiled at her but caught Chance rolling his eyes. His brother was extremely familiar with his expression and the tone of voice.

“Cord.” She clenched CJ’s hand.

“Jolie.”

“We’re leaving.”

“I’m not stopping you, Jolie. But I will see CJ tomorrow. I’ll send Chance to pick him up, bring him out to the ranch.”

“No.”

Cord shrugged as if her resistance meant nothing. It stung, but that didn’t matter. Not in the long run. “You know what the alternative is.”

“You’re bluffing.”

A rolling gasp of laughter escaped from his chest and exploded out of his mouth. “Then, you don’t know me at all, Jolene. Have him ready by nine. If he’s not, Chance’s next stop will be the courthouse.”

“Which it’ll also be if the two of you aren’t home, Jolene.” Chance just had to butt in, but Cord had known he would and had counted on it.

He tuned out Jolie’s blustering and smiled at CJ. “Wish I wasn’t in this chair, bubba, but I’ll still show you some of our horses, and if you want to ride, our foreman, Kaden, will help you.” He tousled the boy’s hair. “Okay?”

“Okay!” CJ launched into his arms and Cord had to blink back the sting of tears. Barrons didn’t cry, but damned if he didn’t want to. He had a son. And he had the woman he loved, even though she didn’t realize she was his. Yet.

* * *

Jolie seethed and just barely managed to contain her anger. She wanted to beat her fists against the steering wheel but CJ was strapped into his car seat behind her and could see her face in the rearview mirror.

How dare Cordell Barron swoop into her life and steal her son away? There was no way on God’s green earth she would let the Barrons sink their claws into CJ. She needed to call her dad. He had a whole firm of high-priced lawyers at his beck and call. They could file an injunction or something. Make sure Cord wasn’t allowed anywhere near her or CJ.

She suddenly went cold, as if a bucket of rainwater had been dumped over her head. Was her reaction about CJ? Or her? Not long ago, she’d fantasized about rekindling a relationship with Cord. Some fantasy! The reality of the man—the truth of what it would mean to share her son with him—hit her square in the heart. She couldn’t do it. But the alternative meant hurting CJ. She’d have to figure out some way to deal with the situation without getting her heart—or her son’s—broken.

She glanced in the rearview mirror and recognized the stubborn tilt of her son’s chin. It was about the only thing he’d inherited from her. “How about we stop and buy a movie on the way home?”

“No.”

Yes, her son’s temperament hit a little too close to home. “But you want to see that new—”

“No. I’m mad at you, Mommy.”

“Fine.” Oh, great. Now she was getting snippy with a four-year-old.

“Fine,” he snipped back.

When they got home, dinner and bath time were a battle. CJ refused to watch TV with her, holing up in his room instead. When she went in to offer a bedtime story, he crawled into bed, turned his back and ignored her.

Out of sorts, she sprawled on the overstuffed couch in the area her Realtor called a media room. Some inane romantic comedy laugh tracked its way across the giant TV screen affixed to the wall. The thing had come with the house and there were times she enjoyed it. Tonight, not so much. Pushing off the couch, Jolie paced around the room, her thoughts as chaotic as the storm clouds gathering outside. Deep down, she knew she didn’t have a legal leg to stand on. She couldn’t prove Cord meant to harm CJ. She couldn’t ding him for lack of child support because he hadn’t known he was a father.

Her earlier conversation with her father as she was preparing dinner had been short, to the point and disappointing. And now she was mad at him because he seemed to be taking Cord’s side. Then again, he’d always gotten biblical with her.

“You reap what you sow,” he’d told her on numerous occasions, quickly followed up with his belief that she was wrong for not telling Cord about CJ. Tonight, he’d told her he’d hire an attorney to represent her in the paternity suit they were both sure Cord would file.

Could she really do that to CJ? Drag him through the newspapers, because they darn sure would glom onto the story—the legitimate press and the tabloids. Possible headlines flashed across her thoughts and none of them were pretty.

“Argh!” She wanted to hit something. Or throw something against the wall—something that would crash and break into a million pieces. She had no choice. She needed an attorney so the Barrons couldn’t run roughshod over her, but she would have to let Cord see her son. Her son. Not his. She’d dealt with the three months of morning sickness. She’d brought CJ into the world with no help from the Barrons. She’d dealt with his colic, teething, earaches and everything else. All by herself.

And whose fault is that? No matter what she did, she couldn’t muffle the sound of her conscience.

“Okay!” She yelled the admission. “My fault. It’s all my freaking fault! Are you happy now?”

No, she wasn’t happy at all. But she had to face the consequences. She had to allow Cord to spend time with CJ. She blinked and a wry smile crinkled her cheeks. Cord was a Barron. Barrons never stuck with anything that even hinted at personal responsibility. They got bored too easily. And hated having to make an effort. They expected to snap their fingers and everybody would line up to do their bidding. Well, Cord had a lot to learn about being a father. Especially since his own father was such a lousy example.

Jolie did a short happy dance. That was the ticket. Cord would get bored with being a father, and once he had his fill, he’d ignore CJ. Her heart contracted, knowing CJ would more than likely get hurt. But better he discovered now what a jerk his father was than later, when he’d have a harder time getting over it. She shoved those uncomfortable feelings away. She never wanted to hurt CJ, but ever since Cordell Barron entered the picture, hurt was inevitable. For both of them.

She trudged to her room, doing her best to ignore her feelings about—and for—Cord. The man drove her to distraction. He always had. All he had to do was smile, and her knees went all wobbly while her heart raced and goose bumps prickled her skin. And when he touched her? Her pulse—and other places—throbbed with the thought. She needed a cold shower stat, and headed to the master bath.

Jolie had dated postbreakup with Cord, in an I’ll-show-him way, and most often with disastrous results. Nursing school had convinced her she didn’t have time for men. And then CJ. Men didn’t want a woman with the baggage of another man’s child. Not just another man. Cord. She balled her fists on the granite vanity top and stared at her reflection.

“Get over him, girl!”

Her brain could list all the reasons why she should tell him to take a flying leap, but her body was up in arms and rebelling. She wanted him in that hot, skin-to-skin seductive way a woman wants the man who inflames her inside and out. And darn if her heart wasn’t standing there on the edge of the cliff ready to take the leap with her girlie bits.

She crawled into bed, hit the remote control and found a program guaranteed to bore her into sleep. Her dreams, however, were far from boring. Tangles of arms and legs, deep kisses until her lips were swollen and she couldn’t catch her breath. Flushed, she pushed off the linen duvet coverlet and flopped onto her back, arms wide. The ceiling fan washed a desultory breeze over her that did nothing to dissipate the heat. The digital clock on her bedside table blinked an accusatory three-thirty in her direction.

The TV droned in the background, casting flickering shadows around the room. For a brief moment, Jolie wondered what Cord was doing. Focusing on the program, she thrust thoughts of the man out of her mind—at least until her brain processed what she was seeing on the screen. She’d gone to sleep to a documentary and awakened to a man and woman writhing in ecstatic, no-holds-barred, down-and-dirty sex on a dining room table.

“Really?” She didn’t know whether to laugh, cry or get out the vibrator. She didn’t believe in signs, but if ever there might be one, this would be her luck. Giving up on any chance of sleep, she shoved out of bed and padded into the bathroom.

* * *

Cord twisted his hips, first right then left. He followed up with some of the other exercises his physical therapist insisted he do. Sometimes his insides still felt like scrambled eggs, though at the moment, it was his thoughts that more closely resembled food. Spaghetti. A big ole knot of it, twisted and tangled.

“I have a son.” He tested the words by saying them aloud. “I’m a father.” That one didn’t settle, as well. He wasn’t a father. Thanks to Jolie. She’d made sure he missed out on those all-important early years with CJ. CJ. He wondered what the initials stood for. Surely she hadn’t named the boy after him. He made a mental note to ask CJ when he saw him.

Tomorrow. Cord glanced at the clock. Today, he amended. He’d have the day to spend with his son. He glared at the insectile shadow looming against the far wall of his childhood bedroom. He hated that wheelchair with a passion bordering on rabid. He would be rid of it as soon as possible.

Despite the sweat beading on his forehead, he redoubled his efforts, lifting his legs, holding them elevated until his abdominal muscles screamed and he couldn’t breathe. Lowering them to the bed, he panted until the pain passed.

As he rested, his thoughts turned to Jolie. A different kind of pain washed over him, one that was both physical and emotional. His body hardened as he remembered all too well the feel of her curves, the sound of her soft, panting breaths as they made love. There’d been girls before her and women after, but none of them ever stirred him like Jolie. Now that she was back, he seriously doubted there’d ever be another. But at the same time, she’d done the unthinkable. Had she gotten pregnant on purpose? He got mad just thinking about it.

His anger simmered just beneath the surface. He had every right to be furious with her, but he hadn’t exactly been a knight in shining armor where she was concerned. He’d acquiesced to his father’s demand that he break it off without a backward look. Well, maybe a few glances and a very heavy heart, but he’d been a coward. He could own up to the label now, especially in light of what his younger brother had done.