A Rancher's Pride

chapter Thirteen





A little while after Kayla had tucked her niece into bed, Becky had appeared again in the living room. She’d argued against being brought back to her room but now, worn-out from playing with her dolls and stuffed animals, she had already fallen asleep.

Kayla resettled the toy horse and lamb beside her.

She left the room, her steps slow on the stairway down to the first floor as she planned her next move.

It was time to get serious with Sam.

She had made up her mind. She would make teaching him to sign into a game, and he’d learn the basics of the language whether he wanted to or not.

The challenge gave her no qualms at all.

Only the fact that this would put her even closer to him gave her second thoughts.

Downstairs, she found him half-sprawled on one of the couches. He watched her approach, his eyes heavy-lidded, looking on the verge of sleep himself.

Kayla couldn’t take the couch opposite his, where Becky had so carefully arranged her family of dolls and the rest of her stuffed animals. Heart in her throat, she sat gingerly on the end of Sam’s couch, as far from him as she could get.

Even as she took a breath, she admitted the lie to herself. Of course, she could have moved the toys, could have sat facing him with the coffee table between them. But the thrill of knowing that one move of hers, one tiny slide across the cushions, would put her within touching distance of him had been a greater temptation than she could fight. With that one slide, Sam could pull her against him, could snuggle her close with his arm around her shoulders.

What would he feel when he held her? What would he think? More important, who would he see when he looked her way? Would he see her, Kayla, with her brown hair and blue eyes? Would he notice the tiny scar on her chin? Or would he focus only on her relationship to the ex-wife he so bitterly resented?

His eyes opened wider, and he shifted position on the couch. “Becky asleep?”

“Yes.” She cleared her throat. “I made sure to stay with her until she drifted off.”

“What brought her downstairs again?”

She shrugged. “A nightmare, probably.” No surprise that she had picked up on the tension between the two adults during dinner. “I didn’t question her. I was happy enough to have her fall back to sleep.”

“No bedtime story tonight?”

“We read one after her bath.”

“You’ve done that a lot.” It was a statement, not a question.

“Yes, I have,” she said, encouraged that he had mentioned it. “Ronnie leaves Becky at my mom and dad’s often. I usually spend the night at my parents’ house, too, whenever Becky’s there. Although,” she added, “they can communicate with her. They couldn’t in the beginning. But my older sister and I taught them to sign.” She looked at him. “You could learn, too, Sam.”

He gave a gravelly laugh. “Nah. Can’t teach an old dog new tricks.”

So much for his assurance that he had things “covered.”

“My parents were older than you are now. And Sharleen seems to be picking up signs without any trouble.”

“All right, then you can’t force a young dog to learn new tricks.”

Force. Was that what it would take for him to get the skills necessary to communicate with his daughter?

Then she recalled the expression she’d seen on his face when he’d looked at Becky. The fear.

She had to come up with something to get him around that. But what? She thought for a moment then asked, “Have you ever donated blood?”

His brows rose. “Are you saying learning sign language is like giving blood?”

He gave a lopsided grin that had her heart rate soaring. But even that couldn’t stop her. “I’m not kidding, Sam. Have you ever donated? Or even gone for blood-work, maybe for an annual physical?”

“Well, yeah. Of course.”

“What do they ask you to do to before they put the cuff on?”

He shrugged.

“Come on, I’m serious.” She leaned across him to reach for his hand and lay it upright on the arm of the couch. She hadn’t stopped to think things through, hadn’t realized the move would bring their faces close. So close, their lips nearly touched. His breath tickled her cheek. His hand warmed her fingers. She’d been innocent in her sincerity, in her need to convince him to listen to her. But the gesture had backfired, stirring up additional emotions she didn’t want to think about. She retreated to the safety of her corner of the couch.

“Show me,” she said, wincing at the breathless sound of her voice.

Slowly, he curled his fingers into a fist, squeezed and released it a few times. “Like that?”

Though her lips trembled, she forced a smile. “Just like that. And with a slight change of palm orientation—the way you turn your hand—you’ve just made one of the most important signs Becky knows. One of the first she learned. The sign for milk.”

He shook his head and looked away.

She held her breath, watching him. Whether he knew it or not, he was gently squeezing and opening the fingers of the fist he now rested on his knee.

She felt a sudden heaviness inside her chest. How could her heart harden into stone and break like glass, both at the same time?

“Give it a chance, Sam,” she urged. She couldn’t regret the pleading note in her voice. She was doing this for Becky.

“One word isn’t going to get me very far.” He stared off into the distance.

Again, she searched her mind for an argument that would prove otherwise. “What about that mama cow almost ready to give birth out in the barn? You said her calf would need a little time to get its legs under it, right?”

He refused to look her way.

She moved to stand in front of him, her hands on her hips to keep from reaching out. “You can’t expect to match Becky’s entire vocabulary in one easy lesson. And there are ways to communicate besides words, you know. You can learn those, too. Writing notes. Drawing pictures. Pointing. Gesturing. Even body language.”

“Like this?” He rose from the couch and stepped forward to slide his arm around her waist, until she was braced against his chest. “And like this?” He tilted his head and looked down into her eyes. “And like this?” He matched his mouth to hers, kissing her with an intensity that sent a vibration all the way through her.

Kayla couldn’t help herself. She’d dreamed of Sam’s kiss for too many nights now. She’d seen that vulnerability in his face. That fear in his eyes. The man was human, after all. And too much temptation for her to resist. She couldn’t just back off and walk away. Instead, she inched forward. He curled both arms around her, snuggling her close. He felt good against her, his hard planes a perfect balance for her curves, as if they’d been made to fit together.

She breathed deeply, taking in the scent of his aftershave mixed with the faint aroma of wood shavings, a surprising combination—but a lethally masculine one.

She couldn’t stop herself from running her hands over his broad shoulders and up his tanned neck and, finally, tangling her fingers in his hair. When she gave a gentle tug, bringing his mouth closer yet, he inhaled raggedly and teased her lower lip with his teeth.

Suddenly, he backed away from her, leaving her hands in midair. Empty. She dropped her arms to her sides.

“Listen,” he said, his voice rasping and deep, “it ought to be clear enough I’m never going to learn what it takes to talk to Becky. Why don’t we quit all this playing around, and you just stay here with her? That’ll solve all our problems at once.”

“Stay here? You mean, permanently?” She choked on that last word.

“Yeah. You want to be with her. You can live with her here. Why not?”

“Why not?” she echoed.

He looked at her without speaking. She stared back, holding his gaze for what seemed a long time—long enough, anyhow, for her to see the gleam of some kind of emotion brighten his eyes.

Lust, probably.

She hoped her eyes didn’t look the same. “I’ll tell you why not, Sam.” She moved out from behind the coffee table and past the end of the couch. Well beyond his reach. “I think you’re out of your mind.”



AFTER A LONG, RESTLESS night, Kayla walked down the stairs the next morning with Becky by her side. She’d made sure to wait until her niece had gathered up her toys and was ready to leave her bedroom. And she had her seated at the table long before Sam entered the kitchen. Not because she was afraid of him or of how he would react. Because she was worried about how she would react when she saw him.

When she’d left him last night, she had started away angry. The man was crazy. Certifiable, even.

By the time she’d gotten upstairs to her room, the full impact of his insulting words had sunk in. He’d expected her to jump at the chance to pick up her life in Chicago and move in with him—conveniently getting him off the hook for having to find another caretaker for Becky. Or worse, to learn to talk with her.

But it was only in the darkest hour of the night, as she tossed and turned, wide-awake, that the realization came to her. A realization she still didn’t want to admit.

She had never in her life felt more hurt.

The door to the back porch opened. At the stove, Kayla stiffened, tightening her grip on the frying pan.

When Sam stepped into the room, Becky gave him a big grin. Kayla could have cried. Instead, she poured the eggs into the pan and turned on the teakettle.

“Breakfast will be ready shortly,” she said.

“Yeah. I’d have been here sooner to help, but I just got done showering out in the bunkhouse. That calf decided to make her appearance last night.”

“Everything went okay?”

She nearly shook her head at her own question. A few weeks ago, she couldn’t have cared less—or known less—about the birthing of a calf.

A few short weeks ago, I hadn’t cared so much about Sam.

Her quick inhalation turned into a gasp. She coughed, trying to cover it.

He reached toward her, as if to touch her elbow. When he saw her expression, he stopped, leaving his hand hovering in midair for a long moment before dropping it to his side. Just as she’d had to do the night before when he’d backed away from her.

“Yeah,” he said, “everything went okay. The mama’s fine. Baby, too. Already up on her feet, taking her first steps.”

You could be, too, Sam.

He hesitated. “About last night. I’m sorry.”

Her cheeks warmed, and she looked down at the frying pan, trying to concentrate on breakfast. She didn’t want to think about last night. About Sam’s body against hers in that tight space between the couch and the coffee table. About that insane suggestion he had made.

She looked across the kitchen. Despite how uncomfortable Kayla felt with Sam beside her, she couldn’t help smiling at her niece. Becky had her head down, her eyes intent on her drawing pad. Matt’s wife, Kerry, the art teacher, said Becky had the determination and drive to become a good artist someday.

The reminder of the lawyer made the smile slide from Kayla’s lips. She should be on the phone with him now, not standing here waffling over how to respond to Sam. Before she could figure out what to say, he spoke again.

He ran his hand along the edge of the counter, not looking at her. “Wasn’t thinking last night, I guess. Or, more likely, I was thinking—and doing—all the wrong things.”

She scraped the spatula across the pan, stirring the eggs. They looked about as scrambled as her emotions right then. But she wouldn’t let him see how much his crazy idea had hurt her. “I suppose I should apologize, too,” she said, forcing a cool tone. “I guess we were both doing the wrong things.”

Still, she couldn’t bring herself to look his way.

This time, when she glanced over toward Becky, she managed to catch her niece’s eye. She lifted her hand to her mouth, fingers cupped, then gestured with that same hand held palm up. “What do you want to drink?”

Becky squeezed her fingers into a fist, and Kayla’s heart suddenly felt as if it had been squeezed tightly, too.

“Milk.”

The sign she had shown Sam the night before.

Before she could move, he opened the refrigerator door and reached in. When he pulled his hand out, he was holding a plastic gallon-size jug. She stared at him. He met her eyes and froze in place.

Her heart seemed to tighten again, and for a long moment, she struggled to blink back tears.

The man might be nuts.

But maybe…just maybe…there was hope for him yet.

“It’s all right,” she said softly, unable to ignore the stunned look in his eyes. “Just like that baby calf of yours, you’ve taken your first step.”