He pulled into the driveway and cut the engine. Tapping his fingers against the wheel, he squinted through the grimy windshield. “You’re not what I expected,” he admitted.
“I hope not. You thought I was some kind of con artist, I think.”
“That about sums it up.”
“Not quite. You thought I’d do anything, even jeopardize my child’s emotional well-being and security, to get at a few McKee dollars.”
He rubbed the stubble on his chin. “You make it sound like Monopoly money.”
“You’re the one who suggested I was playing a game.”
He leaned back against the seat and studied this woman who just twenty-four hours ago he hadn’t known existed. Resting against the door, her son sleeping in the car seat, illumination from the porch lamp highlighting her features, she kissed the top of Cody’s head by instinct, and Jenner watched the movement, his gut tightening at the familiarity and warmth of this simple act. For a split second, he considered kissing her, just as he had earlier today when they were overlooking Stardust Canyon and she’d touched his arm.
Her lips were pliant and now devoid of lipstick, her arms protectively wrapped around her child. Her hair was mussed, thick mahogany curls tangled from the wind as they’d pushed Cody on a swing, or balanced together on a teeter-totter, or spun slowly on a merry-go-round. Beth had raced her son to a slide, then slid down with him when the child had protested that the contraption was too high.
“It’s supposed to be high, silly,” she’d explained with a gentle nudge. “Otherwise it would be flat and we would have to push ourselves along. Let me hold you first and see if you like it, okay?”
“’Kay,” Cody had said reluctantly, but had soon been whooping in glorious excitement as they’d slipped down the slick piece of equipment. “Do again! Do again!” he’d insisted when they’d landed.
Beth’s generous smiles and laughter had touched a dark part of Jenner’s soul that was better left locked away.
Cody’s little feet hadn’t been able to race fast enough back to the ladder, and the second time he’d needed no prodding from his mother. “You do, too!” he’d cried, pointing at Jenner, who had been forced to decline rather than stumble up the metal steps with his one good leg.
His back teeth ground together as he thought of a lifetime of missed opportunities. A lifetime that, despite the encouraging words from surgeons, would never be the same. He stared at her long and hard. “You’ve never said what it is that you want from me.”
“I wish I knew,” she admitted, a line forming between her arched eyebrows. “I... well, when I first found out I was pregnant, I had this silly fantasy that you and I would...oh, well, you know...” Her voice trailed off in embarrassment.
“What? Get married?”
He noticed the dark stain that washed up the front of her neck. “Something like that,” she admitted, her voice rough. “I knew it was out of the question, that we really didn’t know each other, but I had this Norman Rockwell vision of what a family should be.”
He snorted. “Not my family.”
“Nor mine,” she said, shifting a sighing Cody in her arms. “Anyway, I made the mistake of trying to locate you and instead I ran into a brick wall named—”
“Let me guess. Jonah McKee.”
“Right. I don’t know how he found out, but I suspect it was through Ralph Fletcher. They had some business dealings, I believe. Anyway, your father set me straight right away. Told me that you weren’t the marrying kind and when you were you’d probably settle down with Nora Bateman. He acted as if she was the typical girl-next-door and said you two had been involved in some kind of on-and-off-again romance since high school.”
Jenner scowled. “It was off when I met you.”
“Was it?” She let her chin rest on the top of her son’s head.
“Been off ever since.”
“Then I guess Jonah didn’t like me or the thought of a bastard grandchild.”
Jenner’s gaze skated down Cody’s dozing face. A bastard? Would someone—his own father—actually look upon this dynamo of short legs, curly hair and bright eyes as a bastard? The thought brought a vile taste up the back of his throat and he realized with sudden clarity that no matter how much he protested the fact that he’d sired this boy, the kid was really getting under his skin. He experienced a strange sense of caring for this little two-year-old scamp. Funny, he’d never liked kids much. Except for Hillary, his niece, he didn’t have much use for children and thought most of them were brats. He sure as hell had been one.
“I can’t explain Jonah,” Jenner finally said. “I don’t think anyone can.”
“Anyway, I think I was telling you all about my stupid fantasies.” She stared through the windshield and into the night. “Once your father shattered my illusions, I left Rimrock and finished nursing school. I decided that neither Cody nor I needed you, that we could get along just fine. And we have. Until your grandmother wrote me.”
Jenner still wasn’t absolutely convinced. Though Beth looked as if she was telling the God’s honest truth, he didn’t know her. She could be the world’s most accomplished liar for all he knew. “So now what do you expect of me?”
“I don’t know. Recognition maybe. I, um, grew up not knowing my dad and it would’ve been nice to put a face with a name occasionally.”
“You never saw him.”
“Not much. Once in a while he’d show up, or he’d call, but it was pretty much hit-or-miss.”
“And that bothered you?”
She opened her mouth as if to give a quick answer, a lie maybe, then shut it quickly. “Yeah,” she admitted, “it bothered me a lot.”
His gut tightened when he saw the tip of her tongue skim her lips nervously. He didn’t want to feel any empathy for her, didn’t want to feel anything. So she had a rotten childhood. Lots of people did and they survived.
“Well, look, it’s late. Cody’s already asleep and I’d better get going.” She reached for the handle of the door, but he grabbed her shoulder, surprising himself.
“Wait—” His body just seemed to react on its own as he dragged her close, boy and all, and let his lips touch the wet trail her tongue had left only moments before. Her mouth was soft, pliant and brought back dusty memories as she sighed softly. She smelled and tasted familiar, but that could have been his imagination playing tricks on him. The way her body seemed to melt into his... Warmth, hot and urgent, invaded his limbs, caused his heartbeat to thunder in his ears.
Cody, caught between them, moved and made sucking noises with his mouth, but Jenner didn’t mind. In fact, as his arms drew her closer, the child was wedged between them and it felt right somehow.
His heart was still pounding when Beth lifted her head to gaze at him for a second. “Stop,” she said, her voice breathless. “This isn’t necessary—”
“Has nothing to do with necessity.”
“You don’t need to prove that... Damn it all, just because you and I... Just forget it, okay?” She pushed away quickly as if suddenly afraid. Her fingers scrabbled for the handle of the door.
The latch opened. A rush of cool air swept into the cab, dispersing some of the condensation that had collected on the windows. But Jenner wasn’t quite finished. He reached for her again and tightened his fingers into a firm, angry grip. “There’s something you’d better understand about me,” he said unevenly. “I don’t have to do anything and I know it.”
“Of course not. You’re a McKee, aren’t you?”
Growling a curse, he yanked her close to him again and his lips were no longer gentle, but came down with a punishing anger that was hot and wild and way out of control. She took a swift intake of breath and he pressed his advantage, his tongue delving deep into the warm, sweet recesses of her mouth.
Cody let out a squeal and Jenner let go, suddenly realizing what he was doing. Shooting a hard glare in his direction, Beth held Cody more tightly and slid from the seat of the cab. As her feet touched the
pavement, she sent him a scathing look. “You made your point, Jenner,” she said, taking deep gulps of air between words. “I’ve done my duty by coming here and you’ve done yours by meeting Cody. You don’t owe him or me anything.” Tossing her hair out of her face, she said, “Let’s call it even.”
“Even?”
Back stiff as sun-dried leather, she marched up the walk and disappeared inside.
“Hell,” Jenner muttered. He reached across the seat and grabbed the door. A jolt of pain shot up his leg, raging like a prairie fire as it raced from his knee to his hip. Slamming the door, he straightened, ignored the throbbing and tore away from the curb.
Who was that woman? And why the hell did she get to him?
“It’s pointless to stay any longer,” Beth said as she eyed the small bedroom where she’d laid Cody in his playpen. Snuggled under a blanket, thumb firmly in his mouth, he’d barely awakened when Jenner had squeezed him during their kiss. She turned off the light and, with her mother following her, headed back to the kitchen. She needed a drink. Something stronger than coffee. Oh, for God’s sake, who was she kidding? She reached the kitchen, grabbed a wineglass, then shoved it back into the cupboard. Instead, she paused at the sink and splashed some water on her face. Her lips still felt the warm impressions of Jenner’s mouth and her blood was still running hot. Too hot.
“But you just got here. Just because things didn’t go so great with Jenner McKee is no reason to turn tail and run.” Harriet reached for a pack of cigarettes on the counter.
“I’m not running!” Good Lord, she was protesting much too loudly.
“I thought you were staying for a week.”
“I was, but—”
“But now, just like that—” Harriet snapped her fingers loudly “—you’re heading back to the city.”
“I belong in the city.”
With a flick of her lighter, Harriet lit up and drew in a lungful of smoke. “If you say so.” Her eyes darkened a second as if with a private pain, then she sighed.
“Mom...I only came back because of Mavis’s letter. I felt coerced into seeing Jenner again.”
“Did you?” Harriet leaned a hip against the counter, crossed her arms over her waist, and let her cigarette burn between her fingers as she studied her daughter. “I wasn’t going to say anything. Lord knows I hate a meddling mother. But I feel it’s only right to speak my mind.
“You’ve got your life all neatly planned out. Get another job working at a hospital, marry Stan and hope that he’ll be the father to Cody that he doesn’t have now. You’d like to pretend that Jenner McKee doesn’t exist, that you don’t give two cents about him, but the truth of the matter is that you’re not over him. Probably never will be.”
Beth dried her face on a towel hanging near the window. “I thought you didn’t like the McKees.”
“I don’t. Don’t trust ’em, neither.”
“But—”
“But you’d better listen to your heart, girl, or you’re going to end up in a whole lot more trouble than you’re already in. Marrying Stan because he’s stable, because he’s nice, because he’s financially secure won’t make you forget Jenner.”
“I already broke up with Stan and I don’t know what you’re—”
“You’re too smart not to know. Face it, Beth. I see the way your eyes light up at the mention of Jenner. He stirs your blood, and don’t tell me he doesn’t. I’ve known enough men to recognize when one’s got hold of my daughter’s heart. I hoped that you’d forget him, that when you saw him again you’d see that he’s not the man for you, but unless I miss my guess, that little plan backfired.”
Harriet’s words echoed Beth’s own worrisome suspicions, but she wouldn’t acknowledge them. “Jenner and I have a history, that’s all.”
“Not quite,” Harriet reminded her. “The two of you have a son.”
“Let’s not talk about it now.” Beth glanced out the window. “I left my car at the apartment. How about helping me retrieve it?”
Harriet grabbed her keys and purse. “All right, but just remember Jenner McKee has done nothing but hurt you.”
The Black Anvil was one cut up from a dive. The bar had seen better years, the floor was made of worn oak slats polished by spilled beers, broken glass, dirt from unwiped boots and even occasional drops of blood from nosebleeds, the result of infrequent but angry fistfights.
Several of the regulars had bellied up to the bar. Jenner recognized Jeb Peterson, a big bear of a man who owned a sawmill in Dawson City and whose affinity for ale bulged over his belt. Slim Purcell was perched on the end stool and Jimmy Rickert was shooting pool. A cigarette hung limply from the corner of Jimmy’s mouth as he concentrated on his game against Barry White who was somehow related to Ned Jansen. Rimrock was a small town—lots of people related to each other, everyone knowing everyone else’s business.
Maybe it was time to move on.
But where? Sure as hell not back to the rodeo circuit, and he could never again hire on as a hand at a ranch. The owner would take one look at his leg and... Damn it all, he needed a drink. A stiff one.
Forcing his bad leg up to the bar, Jenner settled on a stool. “The usual,” he said to the bartender.
Swiping the bar with a wet towel, Jake glanced down at Jenner’s leg. “Actin’ up again?”
“It’s a pain in the butt. Literally.”
Within seconds, a frosty mug and an open bottle sat in front of him. “Maybe you’d better get a second opinion on that knee and hip.” Jake poured the brew into the mug.
“For what?”
“See if a little surgery will fix ’er up. Maybe then you could join the circuit again.”
Jenner shook his head. “That’s over for me,” he said.
“Doesn’t have to be.”
“I’ve had enough surgeries. More’n my share.”
The beer was cold and wet. Jenner sipped slowly and saw his reflection in the mirror—a broken-down, crippled cowboy who liked liquor a little too much.
His attention was drawn to the end of the bar where Wanda Tully, the waitress, was waiting for an order. Her pale blond hair looked silver in the dim light and she flashed Jenner her thousand-watt smile. Returning it with a sketchy wave, he wondered why he had no interest in Wanda. Twice divorced and working two jobs, she was a good woman who flirted with him just about every time he came through the door. Her legs were long, her breasts high, and though she was a little worn around the edges, she was still pretty. Wanda was a simple woman, one who would never place any demands on him, and right now he didn’t need complications the likes of which he felt every time he was with Beth.
Yet, even here, nursing his beer, feeling Wanda’s interested gaze sliding in his direction, he couldn’t shake Beth’s image from his mind. Her hair, a rich shade somewhere between dark brown and red, was long and full, and her cheekbones flared becomingly above hollow cheeks and full lips able to ease into a wide, sincere smile that seemed meant only for him.
“Son of a bitch,” he growled, reaching for a handful of salty peanuts. Things weren’t going as he’d planned. The pain in his leg was a constant reminder that his life had changed, and Beth, now that she was here, made it worse.
“Yep,” Jake said, pouring a drink for a kid who looked barely twenty at the end of the bar, “if I were you, Jenner, I wouldn’t give up working with the rodeo stock.”
Jenner didn’t argue. Gritting his teeth, he told himself that he could handle every stumbling block fate cast his way. He’d always believed that a man had to accept the cards that lady luck dealt him and make the best of any situation. Even though Jenner had been born to wealth, he’d shunned the old man’s money as well as the trappings and responsibilities that came with a huge bank account.
From years riding rodeo, he’d broken more bones than he could count, been thrown, trampled and dragged by more horses than he cared to remember. Each time he’d climbed on the back of a range-tough rodeo bronc, he’d taken his life in his
hands. There had always been the chance that he could have been killed or severely injured, so this... this useless leg shouldn’t come as any big shock. He’d either get better or he wouldn’t. But, deep down, it scared him. It scared the living hell out of him.
“Say, McKee—” a harsh voice broke into his thoughts “—I hear your family’s offerin’ a reward for information on the guy who started the fire in your stables and maybe had somethin’ to do with your old man’s accident.”
Jenner bristled. He twisted on his stool and saw three men huddled around a nearby table.
Fred Donner sniffed, then rubbed the edge of his sleeve under his nose. He’d posed the question. “Is that right?”
“I don’t know anything about it.”
The men exchanged glances. “I heard it was ten thousand dollars.”
“Twenty-five,” Ned Jansen said. He crushed out his cigarette. “That’s what I heard. Ain’t that what you heard, Steve?” he yelled at his son who was one of the men playing pool near the back room.
“Yep.” Tall and rangy, Steve nodded but didn’t break his concentration on the game. Money was riding on his ability to slam the next few balls into the pockets, and Steve Jansen had a reputation for knowing the value of a buck—even if his father didn’t.
“Wasn’t it thirty grand?” the third man at the table, Cyrus Kellogg, asked. “That’s one helluva pile of money.” Cyrus finished his drink and eyed Jenner. Near sixty, Cyrus owned the property on the other side of a stand of timber owned by the McKees.
“Could be just a rumor.” Ned scowled.
“Nope,” Fred insisted, his weathered face looking grim.
Years ago, he’d lost the water rights to his ranch because of dealing with Jonah and he’d never gotten over the sting of the loss. Fred had been one of the men living around Rimrock who’d counted Jonah as a friend. And he’d been stabbed in the back, Jenner thought. By the master of backstabbing, good ol’ Jonah Phineas McKee.