The Marriage Season Page 13

  She forced a smile. “How’s this?”

  “Like a clown with a stomachache. Try again.”

  Bex narrowed her eyes. “Watch it, Calder. I feel like punching someone in the nose, and you’re awfully handy.”

  He held up his hands in mock surrender. “You can’t hit the man who slaved over a hot toaster for you and threw in a trout for good measure.”

  Her next smile was a lot more genuine. “I suppose you have a point there.”

  “After breakfast we’ll go out in the boat for a couple of hours. Then we’ll pack up and close the cabin, maybe have a late lunch at the sandwich-and-ice-cream place in that little town.”

  “I wish we could just stay here, but escapism solves nothing.”

  Once upon a time, he’d been in avoidance mode himself, grateful for the charter flights that took him far from home, far from the reality of his marriage. Bex was right, though; running away never fixed the problem. Still, it was only human, wanting to walk—or fly—in the opposite direction now and then.

  “It doesn’t,” Tate agreed. He took her elbow and guided her back toward the cabin. “You can handle this, Bex.”

  She was quiet for a few minutes, thoughtful. When she spoke she caught him off guard, as she so often did. “Are you really in love with me?” she asked.

  He pretended to consider. “With the woman who just threatened to punch me in the nose? With the woman who disdains toast as a side dish to fried trout? Hmm, I might need to rethink this.”

  *

  SHE LIKED TATE’S sense of humor.

  He was very easy to be with, but there were some demons cavorting around in his past, and she knew they could leap into the present at any time.

  “I was joking,” she said. “About punching you in the nose.”

  He looked so attractive first thing in the morning, his hair disheveled just enough that he could sling a coat over his shoulder and pose for a magazine cover. “I figured that.”

  Why was she being so tentative? Three simple words. I love you. He’d said that. Why couldn’t she? “I would never actually hit you.” And why was she belaboring this…this silly remark?

  “Like I said, I wasn’t all that worried. Not that I don’t think you could pack a mean punch, but let’s face it, Bex, you’re just too nice.”

  I am not too nice.

  “Look, I’ve already apologized for calling you sensitive, so let’s drop it. There’s no need to call me nice to get back at me.”

  “That’s an insult?”

  “The way you said it, yes.”

  Why was it so hard for her to tell him she felt the same thing he did?

  “Tate, I’m—”

  He saved her. “Letting your breakfast get cold. We can talk about this later.”

  That might be better, once she felt more centered. More grounded. But…she couldn’t leave it unfinished.

  She took his hand. “I’m involved, too. In whatever’s going on between us.”

  He swung around and his fingers curled briefly around hers. “Bex, if I didn’t think you were, I wouldn’t be here. Look, the boys have been alone and unsupervised a little too long for my peace of mind. The cabin could be on fire for all I know.”

  True enough.

  The trout proved to be a hit, which surprised both of them. It was mild and flaky, and he’d cooked it plain except for some melted butter. The boys cleaned their plates, although the toast came in a sad second. Afterward there was an eager fishing party ready to go.

  Bex pulled her hair into a ponytail, put on her worn jeans and slipped on a sweatshirt. The noisy launch of the boat went more smoothly this time, and she wished once again that they were staying a few extra days. She stood in front of the cloudy mirror in the bedroom, which made her face look as though she’d acquired a second set of cheekbones. Staring into it for a long moment, she asked out loud, “What are you doing?”

  The mirror didn’t answer.

  So much for fairy tales.

  So much for fishing, as well, apparently, because no sooner were they out in the middle of the lake, than gray clouds rolled in and it started to sprinkle. The boys were undeterred at first, but it was a chilly fall rain, and when the wind rose, even Ben was willing to concede that being wet and cold took the fun out of the whole experience.

  They were all subdued as they began the process of packing up, and Bex predicted that someone—she hoped it wasn’t her or Josh—would be taking home a mouse in their luggage. Against strict orders there’d been in-room snacking, judging by the granola bar wrapper she found on the floor.

  After all the sweeping and washing had been done, and Tate had cleaned out the woodstove, he locked up, remarking, “I wouldn’t mind having a place like this. That might sound ridiculous if you’re going to live on a ranch in a brand-new log home with a wonderful view of the mountains, but having my very own outhouse, now, that would be sweet.”

  Bex gave him her coldest glare. “Let’s not forget the outdoor shower. As for me, I’m looking forward to a long, hot soak in a real bathtub. I might even go so far as to indulge in a glass of wine while I bathe. Oh, and some soft music would be lovely, too.”

  There was a brief, pulsing silence. Then, his voice husky, Tate asked, “Can I join you?”

  “If Tara’s already moved out, you’re invited,” she said recklessly.

  He opened the truck’s passenger door and ushered her in. “That’s an invitation I wouldn’t pass up for a million bucks. Now dare we hope that fishing despair can be cured by burgers and hot fudge sundaes? Listen to Ben and Adam arguing over who’s going to sit where. I’m just going to let them figure it out.”

  Josh, the peacekeeper, offered to sit in the middle, solving the problem.

  He would.

  She really loved him.

  And if Tara had indeed gone home, Bex knew she was the one who’d have to explain why they were dropping him off there instead of going directly to her house. It wasn’t a conversation she wanted to have and would definitely be post–ice cream.

  She sent her sister a text as soon as she had a decent signal that wouldn’t cut out at any second.

  On our way back.

  If she hadn’t been securely buckled in, the reply would’ve made her fall out of her seat.

  I’m in Denver.

  She looked over at Tate, driving them down the winding tree-lined roads. He understood the expression on her face to the extent that he said, “I take it something’s happened and we can’t talk about it now.”

  “You could say that,” she muttered, punching in a reply.

  Tara, what the hell?

  I changed my mind. I couldn’t do it. I caught a flight this morning. Without Greg. I need to move away. I have a friend here who can get me a job.

  What about Josh?

  Can you keep him?

  She’d prefer it.

  Beyond a question, yes.

  Of course. Is Greg going to give me trouble?

  I don’t think so.

  That wasn’t reassuring, either. Bex stared at her phone. What were her rights? As far as she knew, she didn’t have any.

  Quietly, hoping the boys wouldn’t hear, she asked Tate, “Could we stay with you tonight?”

  He didn’t even blink. “Of course.”

  “Just for tonight,” she reiterated.

  “As long as you need.”

  “I’d ask Hadleigh or Mel, but I think Josh would be better off with Ben and Adam around. I’ll explain later.”

  They were speaking in hushed voices.

  “What happened?”

  “Tara is in Colorado.”

  “What?” He navigated the slick road. Pines flashed by, lonely sentinels. “What? Just like that?”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  “She has a lot of faith in you.”

  That was kind of him. He could’ve mentioned how irresponsible it was to go off to another state without your child, but didn’t. Bex didn’t know whether to applaud Tara’s dec
ision or not. If she’d taken Josh, things would be so much worse.

  “This way, he can stay in the same school,” she said.

  “Bex, you do realize that Greg could show up and claim the boy at any time?”

  She nodded grimly. “I have to sort this out, get some advice. Greg can be unpredictable, and I’ll feel safer if we stay with you.”

  “There’s no way I’d let you stay alone, anyway.” Tate sounded serious, dangerously so. “I still think your sister is out of her mind.”

  Bex agreed on that score, but something else had occurred to her. “It’s just possible that Tara’s done the best thing for everyone,” she mused. “By accident, probably, but—”

  Tate’s phone beeped and he handed it over. “Can you see who that is, please? This isn’t a good place to pull over.”

  She checked the ID. “I believe it’s your father.”

  He groaned. “Not now.”

  “According to his text, he’s in Mustang Creek.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  WITH BEX BUNKING at his place—a development he hadn’t expected, or not yet, anyway—Tate was glad he’d cleaned the bathroom just before they’d left on the fishing trip.

  As a rule, he kept the house reasonably tidy, but things were usually in a state of controlled chaos. This time luck was in his favor; there were no dishes in the sink, the floor had been swept and he’d done a quick dusting. So the place was respectable, or as respectable as it ever got.

  The rented bungalow was small, with three tiny bedrooms, a single bathroom and a modest, dated kitchen. As temporary accommodation, it suited a bachelor with two young children just fine, especially since it had a fenced backyard where the boys could play. The majority of his furniture was in storage and what he had here didn’t exactly fit the place. His big couch overwhelmed the dainty living room, while his television took up most of one wall—but it was a short-term arrangement. And, a real plus, they were close enough to the school that the boys could walk. When they moved out to the ranch, he’d have to drive them.

  He couldn’t wait to move into their brand-new log house. The interior finishes were all that remained to be done, and then the contractor could start on the barn and stables.

  “It’s okay. Josh and I can just stay here,” Bex had said when they pulled up to her house. She was clearly having second thoughts. Previously she’d planned to drop off her laundry and pick up some clean clothes and a few personal items. “We’ll be fine.”

  “Like hell you’re staying here,” he’d told her bluntly. “Until we find out how your brother-in-law reacts to Tara leaving town, I’m your new shadow.”

  She’d frowned slightly. “What about your father?”

  “He has a room at that fancy lodge at the edge of town. Much more his style than a modest house on Aspen Street. Even in Kirkland he didn’t stay with us. Fact is, he’s never had a lot of time for noisy young boys. Grab a dress. Unless you’re vehemently opposed, we’re meeting Dad for dinner.”

  “I don’t know if Josh has anything appropriate to wear. Why don’t I stay with the boys?”

  “He’s the same size as Adam, so we’ll work it out.”

  Tate carried Bex’s suitcase as far as her front porch, but she stopped him there. He didn’t ask questions, didn’t want to crowd her.

  Ten or fifteen minutes later, when she emerged carrying a canvas gym bag, the expression on her face told him something had happened. “I’ll tell you later,” she said very quietly when she got back in the truck.

  Practically a repeat of their earlier conversation in the truck. He drove away, assuming it wasn’t going to be great news.

  It wasn’t.

  When they got to his place and the boys had vanished into their rooms, she told him, “Greg left me about a dozen messages asking why Tara wasn’t answering her phone or returning his texts.”

  “Nice of her to make you explain it to him.”

  She shook her head. “This might sound strange, but I’m happier about her taking off this way than I was when I thought they were getting back together. She can’t say no to him, so she removed herself from the situation. It’s the smartest thing she’s done in a long time.”

  He found it incomprehensible that Tara could leave her child, but at least Josh was safe with Bex. Tripp had said Greg wasn’t a truly bad guy, just not a truly good one. He reminded Tate of Sandra—self-centered and unfaithful. There should be a law against it. There wasn’t, though, and Bex was probably right; if Tara could be so easily persuaded to go back to Greg, then getting the hell out of Dodge was the best alternative.

  He pointed down the hall. “I use that bedroom as an office. There’s a daybed in there, and that’s where I’ll sleep. You can stay in my room. There’s a shortage of bubble bath in this male household, so I hope you brought your own. Otherwise, help yourself.”

  At the moment her eyes looked very gold. She gave what he could only describe as a sultry look, but that kind of language wasn’t his area of expertise. “We could just share the bed. It isn’t like it hasn’t happened before, and I feel confident your bed is bigger than a bottom bunk.”

  It was. King-size, took up the entire space, and without three small boys in the same room, he had a feeling things might get out of control.

  In a really good way.

  “That’s up to you.”

  “Hmm, then my vote is we share. I’m going to take my bath.”

  Leaving him with the image of her naked…

  Last thing he needed.

  He went to call his father. “I hope you don’t mind, but there’ll be five of us joining you. My friend Bex and her nephew are coming along.”

  “The pretty little brunette? Ah, I see. What does she do again? Teach fitness classes?”

  This was the big problem with his father. Everything was measured in terms of financial and career success. Tate was tempted just to say yes so she could be judged on the merits of her personality and her warmth, but the truth would come out, anyway. “She owns a chain of fitness centers, actually. What time is the reservation?”

  “A chain?”

  He could tell that Bex had gone from pretty brunette to a much higher status.

  “Yes. What time?”

  “Seven. I’ll make sure we have a big enough table.”

  “We’ll be there.”

  He unsuccessfully tried to ignore the fact that the water in the bathroom had stopped running.

  If he lurked in the hall, he could probably hear the slight splash as she moved, but he wasn’t programmed to lurk, so he went into the living room and switched on a football game instead.

  His phone rang. Tripp. “The Seahawks are losing.”

  “I see that.”

  “How was the trip?”

  “Great.”

  No, even better than that…

  “Hadleigh said Bex sent her a text that she’s going to stay with you tonight. Do we have a problem?”

  Tripp would automatically go into full big-brother mode if it involved Bex; Tate was well aware of that. “We just don’t want a problem,” he explained and told him about Tara’s sudden departure. “Greg could go to the school anytime he likes and pick him up, so this is just a stopgap solution to let him cool off. It sounds as though Tara agreed to move back home, then changed her mind at the last minute. She up and left town without letting him know. Getting away from him isn’t a bad decision in some ways, but Bex shouldn’t be the one who has to tell the little guy about it.” He paused. “I doubt he has any idea where she is at the moment, but this is Mustang Creek, so he could figure it out easily enough. If he does show up, at least I’ll be here.”

  Tripp said slowly, “I don’t think he’d touch her. I promise you there’d be a nasty argument, though. He knows Bex doesn’t approve of how he’s handled his relationship with her sister, and I can’t say I approve of it, either. There are damned few people in this town who don’t think Tara Stuart married badly. Here’s hoping she finds the backbone to
call him and tell him she’s gone for good so Bex is off the hook. Tara’s a good person, but she’s a pushover. If the meek really do inherit the earth, she’ll get a fair chunk of it.”

  “That’s the impression I have of her.” Tate sighed. “Not once in three days did Josh even mention his dad. He hasn’t asked why they’re staying here tonight, either. The fishing trip and hanging out with my boys was fun, I get that, but usually kids want to go back to their own rooms, their routines, their family life. He’s attached himself to Bex like a limpet.”

  “You ought to talk to Spence. His mother just dumped him with his aunt when he was a kid and only recently got in touch with him again. He’s always maintained he was better off with his aunt, anyway, so he adjusted, like kids do.”

  Hard to argue, since Tate suspected that was true of Josh, as well. Not only that, he was convinced that his sons were better off without their mother’s influence, too. Maybe Sandra wouldn’t have instilled her lack of ethics in them, but you could never be sure. In the divorce proceedings, he’d planned to fight for full custody, and given her past, his lawyer said he would’ve won easily.

  Tate changed the subject. “My dad’s in town. I can’t wait to find out what that’s about.”

  Tripp had met his father plenty of times before, when he’d used the charter service. “I’ve told you all along he’s got to be itching to invest. His father bred and sold horses. You’re doomed to lots of advice and criticism. Why not take his money and build that bigger barn and better stable?”

  Sound advice, perhaps, but the problem was, he didn’t want to ask. “If he offers, I’ll consider it. Bex knows someone she thinks might be interested.”

  “Who would…” Then Tripp started laughing. Or would you call it chortling? “I bet I know who it is. Lettie Arbuckle. Yeah, Mrs. A. probably will want to invest, but then you’d need to choose between the devil you know and the one you don’t.”

  Hardly great news. A smaller barn seemed better all the time. He replied wryly, “I’ll take that into consideration.”