Ty reached for Mandy, and they walked back hand in hand. He liked the feel of her smooth skin against his. And for a moment, he enjoyed the fantasy of being a couple.
If someone had told him he’d one day be entertaining his brother and niece as well as hosting a barbeque for a passel of people, he’d have thought them loco. Yet here he was, and it didn’t feel all that strange. He’d enjoyed cutting cattle. He’d enjoyed meeting Mandy’s friends. Mandy had told him the women knew the truth about their marriage, but neither of them treated him like anything but Mandy’s husband.
And he’d felt like Mandy’s husband.
“I’m tired,” Delanie announced as Ty sat down beside his brother and Mandy sat on the other side, next to Delanie.
The little peanut had blueberry filling smeared across her face, like someone had used her for a swath of canvass.
“I bet, little one. It’s been a long day,” Ty said.
The breeze caught a wisp of Mandy’s wavy hair, blowing it across her lips. She tucked it behind her ear and glanced at Ty, as if she’d known he’d been watching her, before she turned her attention to Delanie, grabbing a napkin to wipe the little one’s face.
Trace dropped his paper napkin on the table. “We’d better head home. Those trailers will be at the ranch bright and early.”
“Yup. And after they drop off your cattle, they’ll be coming back here to load for the Cheyenne rodeo.”
“How about I take Delanie in the house, wash her up a bit before you take her back. Save you some time when you get home, Trace,” Mandy offered.
“You sure?” Trace asked, his voice gruff.
Mandy nodded as she brushed a hand down Delanie’s hair. The little girl leaned against her.
“I'll come with you,” Shelia said, rising as she wiped her hands with a napkin. “And bring in some of these dishes.”
Ty watched the three females walk away, Delanie between the two women. He lingered over the sight of Mandy’s swaying derrière. She held little Delanie’s hand and was bending low to talk to the tyke.
He caught Trace watching him, an amused expression on his face. Time to change the mental subject matter.
“Seems things have gotten better, you know, with Delanie and the whole trust thing.”
“We’re working on it,” Trace said. He sounded weary. “Social worker is involved. We’re seeing that psychologist. I’ve enrolled her in preschool for the fall. It’s falling into place, slowly.”
“She was more relaxed around you though. Saw you holding her in the saddle today.”
“She likes being on the horse, is all. She’ll let me give her a hug now, if I ask. She likes to be warned.” Pain shone through Trace’s eyes even as he struggled to hide it. “Given I’m not the most demonstrative guy, this has been the hardest thing I’ve ever dealt with.”
“What does the psychologist say?”
“That Delanie’s young—she can recover. And that I need to hug her often. Tell her I love her. Make her feel secure.” Trace looked almost haunted as he fiddled with the knife on the table. “Of course I do love her. Truth is, I never thought I could love anyone like I love her. But showing it…well, it don’t come natural for me. I’m learning though. Have another meeting with the psychologist next week. Half of me wants to know just how bad things were for her. Half of me is damn scared of the truth.” Trace shook his head. “’Cause I just might have to kill someone.”
Ty would certainly be out for blood if it was his daughter. He doubted Trace was any different. In fact, he knew he wasn’t. They were Martins, after all.
“You and Mandy looking to have kids?”
Ty wished he had an answer to that question.
“We’re taking it slow. Marriage was kind of sudden. We need some time to adjust.”
“The way she was looking at you and you were looking at her, I’d say no adjustments needed.” Trace chuckled.
If only that were the truth.
Chapter 19
Mandy tossed and turned and tossed some more. She pounded her pillow, shifted from her back to her side, and opened her eyes to shadowy darkness. The hotel room clock said five thirty, and she was wide awake.
She peeked at Ty. Even in a California King, he took up more than his fair share of space. Why didn’t that surprise her? His arms were flung out as he lay on his back. Despite the shadowed light, she could still appreciate his body.
Sleeping in the same bed, mere inches from him, was so much harder now that they’d had sex, spectacular sex. What would happen if he said no to the baby?
Would she, should she, sleep with him anyway? That would certainly be the path of least resistance.
But what would be the purpose? Other than immense satisfaction, of course.