His Daughter...Their Child. Karen Smith Rose
of answering him, she asked, “Don’t you think having a female role model around might be good for Abby?”
“And just how do I explain you, Celeste? Do I tell her you’re her aunt? Or do I tell her you’re sort of her mother but she has another mother who didn’t want to be her mother and ran away from every responsibility she professed she was ready for?”
Celeste had been aware of how unhappy Zoie had been, as well as the reasons why. Did Clay even know what they were? He probably didn’t care. He was still raw from her desertion.
Taking a step away from Clay out of the virile aura he exuded, she said, “Maybe you should stop thinking about all the possible questions you have and just listen to me. I don’t want to hurt Abby. I want to be around for her. I understand you want to protect her, but did you ever think she might need me in her life with Zoie gone?”
With a stoic expression, Clay contemplated the nearby cowboy twirling his rope above his head. Then he refocused all his attention on her. “You never used to be this tenacious.” He sounded as if he might respect and admire that quality now.
“I didn’t have a reason to be tenacious.” After a few moments, she added, “You never looked beyond who I was in high school.”
He shrugged, one hand slipping into the back pocket of his jeans. “You were always quiet and seemed to hold back.”
“I stood in my sister’s shadow?” she prompted, knowing she hadn’t fought then to escape Zoie’s vibrant personality.
“Your words, not mine.”
“That doesn’t mean they’re not true. I found a life after I left Miners Bluff, a life that gave me confidence in my own abilities and in what I could accomplish.” She should have added, “In who I was as a woman,” but she didn’t want to get into that. Her personality had always been swallowed up by Zoie’s.
The late afternoon sun streamed down on them as applause rose once more from the crowd in the stands.
The one thing Celeste had learned to do was to be honest about what she wanted and what she was feeling. She kept her voice low but didn’t hesitate to make eye contact. “Do you know what I felt last night, Clay, when Abby held on to me?”
He stepped nearer to her so it was easier to hear, so no one else could hear. “What?”
His mouth was close to her ear. His breath was warm. A quiver slid down her spine, and she fought attraction she had to deny. “I felt as if she was part of me, the same way I felt when she was still inside me. For over three years I’ve denied how I felt that day. I’ve denied the yearnings that brought me back here.”
He was still so close to her, his body heat was converging with hers when he asked, “What finally brought you back? I can’t believe the reunion was the reason you emailed me.”
“No, it wasn’t.” But she was sure he didn’t want to hear about a failed relationship, didn’t want to hear how she’d thought she’d found a man to love but then he’d rejected her in the most obvious of ways. She’d been blind and would try never to be so again.
“The reason doesn’t matter. I had to see Abby. I think she and I might need each other.”
It was easy to see that Clay cared about what his daughter needed, even if he wasn’t thrilled about Celeste’s potential involvement in her life. “I don’t have any tours tomorrow. Come over to the house around four. She should be up from her nap by then if she takes one. I’ll tell her I’ve invited you to her tea party. She has one almost every afternoon. Mom started it as a prelude to dinner so she’d eat some fruit and veggies.” He hesitated. “You know, Abby asked me this morning if you could visit again.”
Celeste forgot about the barrel racers, the applause, the aroma of burgers and fries. So that was the reason he’d offered an olive branch.
As she lifted her chin, Clay’s lips were within kissing distance. She spoke past the lump in her throat. “You won’t regret this, Clay.”
Judging by his expression, he clearly didn’t believe her.
Clay forced a smile when he opened the door to Celeste the following day. At the rodeo, he’d felt that disorienting tug of attraction again. His body had responded to her with startling insistence—and he didn’t like it. He’d always been a master of self-control—why was his body overruling his head?
Celeste was carrying a two-foot-high plush calico cat. He commented amiably, “You brought a friend.”
“For Abby.”
“To keep away her nightmares?” he guessed, realizing there was a point to everything Celeste did.
“Possibly. If not, just another friend to enjoy the tea party.”
“Up until now, only bears were invited,” he said conversationally, leading her toward the sunroom at the back of the house. “But I think she’ll make an exception.” He added, “Mom’s still here. She stayed with Abby while I ran errands. Abby asked her to stay for snacks with you.” When he glanced over at Celeste, he saw she hadn’t reacted to that news.
They entered the bright space with its floor-to-ceiling screened windows on two walls. His mother sat beside Abby on the floor, a porcelain tea set atop a white wooden table. There were fresh vegetables and fruit along with milk in the teapot.
Celeste didn’t hesitate to approach his mother and Abby. “Hello, Mrs. Sullivan. It’s good to see you again.”
His mother simply nodded in response.
With the lift of a brow, Celeste crouched beside Abby. “Hi, Abby. Do you remember me?”
His daughter smiled and nodded, too, not acting shy as she usually did with people she didn’t know well.
“Well, good, I’m glad you do. I brought someone along today who would like to meet you. Her name is Tulullah. Tulullah, meet Abby.”
Abby’s grin was so wide, Clay felt a tug at his heart. “Tooloo,” she tried to say.
“Maybe we could just call her Lulu,” Celeste suggested.
“I like Lulu,” Abby decided, looking over the cat and making room for it to sit on the floor.
Celeste’s gaze found Clay’s, and he felt his pulse thump in his jaw. Determined to ignore the flash of heat, he lowered himself to the floor beside Celeste, his jean-clad thigh brushing hers as they settled in. Another jolt of adrenaline rushed through him that caused even more turmoil.
She shifted away, and he told himself he was glad. This was not the time for his libido to wake up after two years of dormancy.
“Would you like me to pour?” she asked Clay’s mother.
“That would be fine,” his mother answered formally.
He found himself watching Celeste much too closely. After she poured the milk, she took a sip from her cup, licked her lips, and set it on the table. Zoie would have done all that provocatively and on purpose. Celeste … He could see she was just enjoying spending time with Abby.
“Do you know how long you’ll be staying in Miners Bluff?” his mother asked.
Abby suddenly stood, ran to her toy bin in the corner and produced a hat with ribbon ties. Sidling up to Celeste, she asked, “Can you put it on Lulu? I can’t tie.”
“Of course I can,” Celeste said, taking the hat from Abby. Then she answered Violet. “How long I stay depends on all of you.”
His mom looked surprised at the answer.
“She looks beautiful,” Celeste decreed, as the big pink bow flopped under Lulu’s chin. “That hat was a good idea.”
Abby looked at Lulu, back at Celeste, then threw her arms around Celeste’s neck. “I like Lulu. I