The Littlest Wrangler. Belinda Barnes
outside, and the sound of Will crying came through the closed door. Kelly’s arms and legs felt heavy, but she yanked back the covers and jumped to her feet, thankful she still had on her clothes from the day before. Set into action by a deeply ingrained maternal instinct, she hurried to the door, wondering how long she had slept and whether Will was okay.
Her son’s fussing grew louder as she dashed down the hall. She knew instinctively that the man she’d once idolized could handle a two-year-old. She’d watched James work on injured horses and knew he always exercised the utmost care and responsibility. But was James with Will? The need to see for herself that her son was unhurt spurred her forward. Heaven only knew what Will had gotten into while she’d slept. The possibilities made her stomach churn.
Pulse racing, Kelly skidded to a stop as she entered the kitchen. Relief surged through her. She caught the door frame and drew a ragged breath.
Across the room her son knelt on a heavy oak chair pulled up to the open fridge. James stood beside him, dressed in jeans and a chambray shirt with cuffs rolled up to the elbow. Her gaze locked on his muscled forearms, then dropped to his standard, scuffed boots. She couldn’t help but wonder if those were the same boots he hadn’t managed to get off before they’d made love that first time. They hadn’t gotten as far as his bed, either. At least not the first time.
Or the second.
She closed her eyes and tried to ground herself. She’d forgotten how his towering height, his mile-wide shoulders and his to-die-for smile had always affected her.
They still did.
But it was so much more than just the way he was put together and what he did for denim. Her feelings for him ran deep and extended beyond their one night of lovemaking. Her continued longing for him was fueled by the memory of his tenderness and the things he’d said. That she was beautiful. That he wanted her.
He had said things that almost made her forget she had spent most of her life feeling unwanted.
She opened her eyes as James pulled a cardboard box off a wire shelf and offered Will something shriveled and dried. “What about pizza?”
Kelly started to protest, but Will pushed the food away while fussing and jabbering unintelligibly. She recognized her son’s renewed cries were caused by anger and frustration, probably from not getting his way. The only person more stubborn than Will was James. Again her thoughts whirled back to the night they had created Will. After the second time they’d made love, James had tried to tell her they needed to stop, because he didn’t want to hurt her. Kelly smiled at the memory. She’d been shamelessly persistent. Afterward she had been glad she’d broken down his resistance. That one night was all she’d had with him. It was all she would ever have.
Muttering, James tossed the pizza box behind him onto the table, barely visible beneath a pile of discarded items—the same table where he’d made slow, mind-shattering love to her the first time. “You’ve already polished off the only soda I had. That leaves a six-pack of beer, and you can’t have that.”
Will slid to the floor and kicked. When he wanted something, he wanted it immediately.
“Yeah. No offense, partner, but you’re a might young for beer.”
Will sniffled and toddled over to James, catching the leg of his jeans at knee level.
Something in Kelly’s chest shifted. She had known seeing James again would be difficult. But nothing had prepared her for the sight of father and son together. Regret filled her soul. She gulped a shaky breath before squaring her shoulders.
Kelly reminded herself that James had always been and probably still was a free spirit, not at all the commitment type. She would do well to remember why she’d left. But this wasn’t about her.
Would James resent her for tying him down? Was he ready to raise a child, ready for that kind of commitment? These were the same questions she had asked herself when she’d made the decision not to tell him she was pregnant.
But there was no one else to raise Will should the need arise.
“All right, Will.” James closed the refrigerator door and sat on the floor beside his son. “I reckon it’s time to wake your mama.”
Will crawled into James’s lap, and the cowboy looked a little ill at ease as he held his son.
“I’m awake.”
Will rushed at her, his bare feet slapping against the wood floor. She released the door frame and scooped him up into her arms. He snuggled against her shoulder, quiet and content for the moment. “Hey, sweetie. Have you been good?”
With his head buried in the curve of her neck, Will nodded.
Kelly sensed James watching her and tried not to look at him but failed. The cowboy still had the knack of disarming her with nothing more than a glance—and that glance had her remembering the rumpled bed they had fallen into the third time they’d made love.
As if reading her mind, James’s heated gaze started at her feet and worked its way up, lingering here and there, making her pulse race and her temperature rise. His brown eyes darkened as they had that night—the night she had tried so hard to forget. But the memory of his unhurried touches and lingering kisses was forever seared in her mind.
Kelly stiffened. She didn’t want to recall the gentleness of his callused hands, the way she’d responded to his touch, or the way his mouth had ignited flames that had consumed her.
No. She absolutely refused to think of that night again, but how could she forget when James kept looking at her like that?
“I—I’m sorry I couldn’t stay awake,” she said. “Thanks for watching Will.”
James shrugged and pushed to his feet, his seductive eyes never leaving her. “After I shower, we’ll head into town for some breakfast. I’ve had all night to think about us and what happened—”
“There is no us, James. There never was,” she said, the lie bitter on her tongue. “It was just sex between consenting adults, that’s all. And only the one night.” Kelly was sickened by her deceit and tried to walk past him, but he blocked her path, his nearness making her heart pound. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to get Matilda out of the trailer and feed her.”
He touched her arm, then let his fingers trail down to her wrist, sending shock waves through her body. “We put her in the barn last night with my horses and went out earlier to feed the old nag. The boy seemed to get a kick out of that.”
“Thanks,” she said, cursing the wobble in her voice.
James watched her, his eyes clouding over like a summer storm. “I want answers, Kel. I don’t think you can convince me that what you did was right, but I’m willing to listen…after I shower.” James caught the front tails of his shirt and yanked. The snaps popped open, and as if drawn by a homing device, her gaze became riveted to his tanned chest and the dusting of dark hair.
“I’ll hurry,” he said as he strode past her and down the hall, his faded jeans caressing his backside with every fluid shift of his slender hips.
Her thoughts shattered. Kelly pulled a chair away from the table with a shaking hand and lowered herself, careful not to wake Will who had fallen asleep in her arms. She had convinced herself she would be immune to James’s blatant sexuality. Grabbing an envelope off the table to use as a fan, Kelly admitted she might have been wrong. Even though there were subtle differences in him, she had done the right thing by leaving. James was still too gorgeous for his own good. He oozed more sex appeal than should be legal. Still, he was Will’s father.
She cringed, knowing she shouldn’t blame everything on James. He couldn’t help how he looked or the way females threw themselves at him. She had watched him trying to put them off without hurting their feelings; he really was a good man. And living with James would be a sight better than having Will grow up in foster care with nothing but rejection and loneliness as his companions—if something happened to her.
She