The Marriage Season Page 11

  “Does Tripp know all this? I can’t believe Hadleigh didn’t tell me.”

  His smile was faint. “Bex, no one knows this except my aunt, the one you met—she stepped in to help with the boys and came to live with us for a while—and now you. I’m not going to advertise the fact that I married a beautiful, manipulative woman who pretended she cared about me. Who managed to completely fool me. The one thing I don’t regret about my so-called marriage is my sons.” He rubbed his forehead. “The marriage itself was a mistake I’ll never make again but that’s what mistakes are for, right? All designed to teach you a lesson.”

  The unrelenting tone of his voice stopped her from saying anything else. Still, she couldn’t help thinking of Tara, wondering if she’d finally learn from her mistakes.

  Life sometimes isn’t what it seems on the surface, she told herself. At first she’d thought that not mentioning his wife meant he mourned her, and then he’d admitted they were on the brink of a divorce and now…

  At least between her and Will it was a simple—if devastating—equation and she’d never been betrayed.

  Hoots of triumph floated up from the dock, breaking the moment.

  “Look.” She pointed. “Go, Josh! I think he caught a fish and took it off himself.”

  Tate seemed relieved to change the subject. “That’s good news for me, although going up and down those stairs was great cardio.”

  “As you said, professional fish removal is no longer your purpose on earth.”

  “I guess I’ll have to find a new one.”

  “I hear raising horses is both satisfying and lucrative.”

  “Let’s hope so. If Tripp’s new stallion proves to be a good stud, then acquiring more mares is my next step. I just need the stables completed first.” He shrugged. “With Doc Cameron on board, I’m in good shape, but I may have to ask my father if he’ll be a silent partner until I can buy him out. I don’t want to go small and then have to build again.”

  She’d seen his family’s sprawling house. “Surely he can afford it.”

  Tate blew out a breath. “Trouble is, will he be silent? He’s all business, all the time. My grandfather bred and raised horses, so Dad grew up around them, and he probably does know a thing or two, but if his money’s on the line, he’ll be all too happy to share that knowledge. Often. I can see myself flying out to bring him here about twice a week so he can comanage. Nate Cameron has the skills, but not enough capital to really invest because he’s still paying off veterinary school loans. I have the perfect property, and I’ll be there to handle the horses, but it makes more sense to build the right facility at the beginning.”

  “Yeah, I understand what you’re saying.” When Bex had started her first fitness center, it had been in an older building and there was the process of first getting the business off the ground. Then, once she was making a profit, moving into a newer, more appealing location had added a lot to the stress of the ups and downs of being an entrepreneur. If it hadn’t been for an investor with the right connections, she would never have expanded…

  “Hold on,” Bex said slowly, quelling the twinge that maybe Tate wouldn’t thank her down the line, but at least he wouldn’t have to ask his father. “I might know someone who could be interested. Um, I can’t promise silence, but if you want to launch a business in this area—well, in Wyoming—she’s the ticket.”

  Tate looked dubious. “She? There are plenty of women horse breeders, but—”

  That was enough to make Bex clap a hand over her mouth to stifle her laughter. Lettie Arbuckle in a barn. Now there was an interesting image. Perfect suit, bag in hand that cost as much as the average compact car…

  “She’s not a breeder, no. But she has a lot of money and a lot of connections. It doesn’t hurt to ask, does it?”

  “You don’t want to tell me who it is.”

  “Nope. Not yet.” Bex gathered up the wrappings from their sandwiches. “Think we can pry the boys away from the water long enough to go for a hike?”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “WHAT’S THIS?” ADAM ASKED, hunkered down to study a curly frond.

  Luckily for him, Tate realized Bex was a flora-and-fauna kind of girl. Oh, all those years of flying and he could practically smell bad weather rolling in, but to him a fern was just a fern. Yet she could unerringly identify every single one.

  As a bonus, she bent over to show the underside of the leaf to his son, and he got to admire her backside, as well.

  Quite the perk. He didn’t pay much attention to the botany lesson.

  As usual, she seemed to sense it when he was staring and as usual, he got caught, but what the hell, she already knew he thought she was someone well worth looking at from any available angle. That, however, was one of his favorites.

  “I missed that,” he said innocently. “Can you show me, too?”

  “Calder, don’t push me.”

  Josh, who was collecting pinecones, looked up sharply. Tate noticed it out of the corner of his eye. He said reassuringly, “She was just telling me to stop teasing her, Josh. It’s an expression. That’s all. She was telling me that if I didn’t stop teasing her, she’d start teasing me back.”

  The kid relaxed. Bex, on the other hand, looked stricken. Their eyes met briefly, and he didn’t blame her for the flare of anger in hers, but now was not the time. He said to the boys, “Want me to carry some of those pinecones? I have free pockets. I assume you guys want to hike back and go out in the boat to watch Aunt Bex hook every single fish in the entire lake.”

  They walked back at a more sedate pace, keeping the boys in sight. Once they’d raced inside the cabin, Bex said in a fierce tone, “I knew it. I’ve never seen a bruise, but Greg’s a bully. I’m almost sure he’s made at least verbal threats. If Tara wants to put up with it, that’s her problem, but not in front of Josh. Can’t she see that all their drama, hers and Greg’s, is affecting their son? That she’s got to make some changes, once and for all?”

  He thought about what to say, and then just told the truth. “Bex, you don’t get to make that decision. I wish you did, don’t get me wrong.”

  She said a very unladylike word then added bitterly, “I know, but sometimes I just want to shake my sister.”

  “Hmm, what a coincidence. I want to beat the ever-loving crap out of your brother-in-law. I doubt either one of those things would change who they are or how they deal with each other.”

  She looked disgruntled as they walked through a stand of fading ferns, hands deep in her pockets. “Are you always so reasonable?”

  “Absolutely not. I sailed right past a display of sleeping bags today so I could sleep in a cramped bed with a fishing sorceress. A bed that’s too small for me alone, never mind the two of us. You hogged the covers, by the way.”

  “I did not.” At least she wore a reluctant smile.

  Tate wanted very much to kiss Bex on the forehead—and a few other places—just about then, but he didn’t. “Josh will be fine. Change makes us all uneasy. I’m a perfect example. Moving my family to Mustang Creek was a leap of faith. But it worked out okay. Otherwise I wouldn’t have met you.”

  “I appreciate your attempt to be charming. If that’s what it is. Seriously, though, I’m grateful for your kindness to Josh, for what you represent to him. Stability. That’s so important now.”

  “I…” He trailed off when she clasped his arm, turning to look at her inquiringly.

  Bex stepped closer, placing one hand on his chest. Immediately, his heart began to speed up. “I believe it’s my turn, isn’t it? Now would be my choice, but you’re going to have to help me out. You’re a little tall for me to kiss if we’re both standing unless you cooperate. The chair was really convenient last time.”

  “My cooperation should never be in question. Anything for a genuine sorceress.”

  He bent his head, but didn’t kiss her. He let her close that last crucial distance before their lips touched.

  It was slow, lingering, exquisit
e, and he allowed her to control the pace. This was, after all, her kiss, although he couldn’t keep himself from circling her waist with both arms and bringing her close. They were both wearing jackets and jeans, but it was still better with her breasts against his chest, her fingers threaded through his hair.

  Even dressed as they were, he wondered if she could feel the surge of his arousal. If it hadn’t been for the slamming of the screen door, indicating an exodus from the cabin, it might have lasted a lot longer.

  Ben yelled to the other two, “Jeez, I told you! Kissing.”

  Caught in the act was better than not participating at all. Somewhat reluctantly he let Bex go. “I predicted there might be speculation among the troops about our relationship. I highly doubt it’s more important than fishing, but they are paying attention. Now, shall we go and let you work your fishing magic?”

  Two hours later, they were definitely having fun but dusk was settling in, the mountains glowing red from the setting sun. She did hook one that was a true beauty, and Tate actually got the joy of landing it because Bex immediately turned to him and mouthed, “This is a big one.”

  It was a real battle, and he might have kept this massive trout, but it was a beautiful creature and they had enough already. Besides, they’d caught their limit that morning, so this was for the sport of it. The boys were slack jawed with disappointment.

  “He’s been around a while,” he told them. “We’ll let him swim in peace for a few more years.”

  Bex agreed, and eventually they did, too.

  He got the joy of cleaning the morning’s catch, but the boys were fascinated, although Bex went off to the couch and picked up a book. There wasn’t enough room in the little kitchen—and it was generous to even call it that—for all of them.

  A romance novel. No bodice-ripping cover, but a man and a woman looking at each other, fully clothed, much the way he and Bex had looked at each other earlier. Horses grazing in the background. He might have to read it himself.

  Get some pointers.

  Still, after that kiss, he thought he was doing okay.

  Adam seemed dubious about fish for tomorrow’s breakfast. So Tate played the cowboy card again. “It’s what cowboys ate most of the time. Think about it. They couldn’t cart around chickens for eggs, and while they had cattle, they weren’t going to cut one out of the herd just for a steak since they didn’t tow refrigerators behind their horses and the meat would go bad. So trout was easy. Find a stream, catch a few, fry ’em up. Delicious.”

  All three of them seemed to accept that logic.

  They went outside to play on the hillside, and Bex came in just as he was rolling up the last of the newspaper he’d used for cleaning the fish. “You know you pull the cowboy thing pretty often, right?”

  “Whatever works. I was their age once. Seems like a long time ago, but I swear I was.” He wiped off the counter. There was a fire pit up on the hill; he’d go and burn the newspaper there or every bear within a hundred miles would be knocking on the door.

  “I’m going to get started on the tacos and set the table.” Bex moved efficiently toward the coolers. “I have a fantastic pinto bean–chili recipe, if I do say so myself. I usually make it from scratch, but I’m winging it this time. I’ll put the toppings in separate bowls so the boys can pick and choose what they want on their tacos.”

  “Shall I pour the cook a glass of wine?”

  “I’m on a minivacation, so that works for me, thanks.”

  It struck him once again that he’d never had a sense of easy camaraderie with a woman before. He and Bex were obviously kindling a growing interest in a sexual relationship; more than that, they thought alike and she valued the same things he did, or that was the impression he had. There was no pretension, either, despite her success, and she was independent without being militant. She didn’t need him, but she didn’t emphasize the point.

  He was having fun, the boys were clearly enjoying themselves and yet he had to wonder if this trip was a big mistake.

  Absolutely.

  But maybe the best mistake he’d ever made.

  *

  ONCE THE MEAT was simmering on the grill, Bex added the seasonings and mild salsa, then turned down the burner. Considering the age of the stove inside the cabin, she didn’t trust that contraption one bit, so having the gas grill was much better.

  Tomatoes chopped, onions ready to go, cheese shredded—she’d cheated and bought the cheese already grated.

  There was something about the smoke from a campfire that beckoned, especially in the fall. Since everything was under control, she decided to join the crowd up on the hill, bringing the bag of gourmet popcorn she’d secreted away. She refilled her wineglass, and got a cold beer for Tate, who was managing the wild ones.

  While the boys were running around, Tate sat in a camp chair contemplating the fire and occasionally raising his voice a notch or two to tone them down. He had a solid blaze going, and he’d thoughtfully set out a chair for her, too.

  Her arrival was greeted with enthusiasm even before she offered them the bag of popcorn, which was promptly whisked away to a decrepit picnic table. There was remarkably little conversation as it was devoured. Tate looked grateful for the beer and cracked it open. “They’re wound up tonight, that’s for sure. Smart idea to hide the popcorn. If I’d known it was there, it might have mysteriously disappeared.”

  “You are a suspicious character.” She settled into her chair. “Good to know my instincts are spot-on. Nice fire.”

  He glanced up at the sky. It was darkening, shadows gathering under the trees. “Best kind of night for it. Almost no breeze. It isn’t as useful as your ability to catch fish, but I have a God-given talent, too. No matter where I sit around a campfire, the smoke blows in my direction. People have actually requested that I not sit next to them. I can change places, and I swear, the wind shifts.”

  Bex laughed. “What else don’t I know about Mr. Tate Calder? I’ve met your aunt and seen where you grew up, and we don’t have to go into your marriage again. Let’s see. I’m probably too attached to your kids already. I know you worked with Tripp, and that you attended Purdue University in Indiana, you love horses and living in the country. Tell me a little-known fact.”

  “Only if this is a reciprocal game.”

  She took a sip and hid a smile behind her wineglass when a wisp from the fire curled his way. “Deal.”

  “I was born in the Azores. My father was in the air force before he started his company.” He reached over and picked up another small log from a pile next to his chair after waving away the smoke. “Your turn. What don’t I know about Becca Stuart?”

  That was an easy one. “I can play a pipe organ. One of those big ones with six keyboards, the foot pedals and the different stops, the kind they have in a big church. Yep, I can do that.”

  Tate did seem intrigued. “Whoa, before we go on with the game, you’ll have to explain that to me.”

  “My grandfather was an organist, and my mother didn’t have the knack for music, but when I took piano lessons, I showed promise. She got it into her head that I needed organ lessons, mostly I guess, to please him. FYI, there’s only one place to practice and that’s in a big echoing, empty church, because no one has that instrument sitting in the living room. I was twelve. Walking through the dark sanctuary terrified me. I toughed it out for a couple of years but then got into sports, and she finally dropped it. I did stick with the piano. I minored in music at college.”

  “You’ll have to play for me sometime. I wondered about the Vivaldi.”

  “Your turn now.”

  He sipped his beer. “I started a novel when I was in college. I’ve been thinking about it for all these years. If I can find any spare minutes between being a single parent and everything else I’ve got going on, I might try my hand at it again.”

  “Things are going to settle down when you start breeding horses?”

  “No.” He flashed that smile. “Fantasy, right
?”

  She thought it over and couldn’t refrain from provoking him, just a little. “No, I don’t think so. You’re the sensitive type. You could write a novel in the wee hours, hunched over the keyboard—”

  “I am not sensitive.”

  She couldn’t help grinning at that.

  Luckily, he was a good sport. “Okay, I fell for that one. It’s your turn again.”

  “I love Thai food.”

  “I already know that.”

  I could be in love with you. She wasn’t going to say it. “Then I guess I don’t have much else that’s interesting in my deep dark past. I met Hadleigh and Mel before we were old enough for school. We’ve been fast friends ever since. They’re like my true sisters.”

  His gaze strayed to Josh, sitting on the picnic table bench, legs swinging as he munched popcorn. “You’re not close to your sister? You’ve been worrying about her all weekend.”

  She loved her sister. That was different.

  “We’re total opposites.” She ran her fingers through her hair, letting it fall back around her face. “Yes, I’ve been worrying about what she’s going to do next. Not quite the same as being close to her.”

  He stretched out his long legs and dangled the beer bottle in one hand. “Men are simple. Either you like someone or you don’t. We don’t spend a lot of time on introspection when it comes to that kind of thing. We shoot from the hip. Nope, don’t like him. Then we move on.”

  “You’re imparting this information as if I haven’t learned about the behavior of the adult human male.”

  Since she couldn’t get phone or text messages, the situation with Tara—or more accurately, not knowing what the situation was—made her nervous. She got up. “I’d better go check on dinner. The way those kids inhaled that popcorn tells me they’re seriously hungry.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  THE TACOS WERE the hit he thought they’d be—they were delicious—and Tate listened contentedly to the laughter and general mayhem during the meal. Bex wasn’t the only one who’d been holding out on the boys with that popcorn of hers. He’d bought the video game both boys had been begging for, instead of saving it for Christmas, and it was worth it to see the excitement on all three faces when he handed it over. “The game system’s hooked up on my laptop, but you’ll have to take turns playing. And when we say pajamas on, teeth brushed and lights out, I don’t want any argument. Are we clear?”