Finally Home (24 page)

“I paid for a full week,” he repeated, and there was a light in his eyes that reminded her of his intensity.

“Do as you please,” she said and yanked her arm from his grasp. “I'll probably be gone before then anyhow.”

His brows lowered.

“Max Barrenger offered to finance my products,” she said and shrugged. “I'll be leaving with him as soon as I wrap things up here.”

CHAPTER 24

“N
o, please, you deserve the honors,” said Monica Day-Bellaire and handed Philip Jaegar the angel to place atop the Christmas tree.

“You should do it,” he countered. “It's just such a pleasant surprise to have you here for the holidays.”

“There's no place I'd rather be.” She wore a cashmere sweater in a dusky periwinkle shade that made her seem almost soft, almost accessible. Still, Sophie watched the exchange with taut mistrust. Her father had arrived shortly after breakfast with a new batch of gifts, two of which were for his ex-wife. Tension sat like a block of salt in Sophie's gut.

“Hot chocolate?” Emily asked and entered the room carrying a tray of mismatched mugs. Tiny Christmas bulbs hung from her ears, accenting the red sweater and plaid skirt that topped her striped tights. Army boots and cargo pants were notably absent.

Sophie narrowed her eyes, wondering if there was some connection between her parents' weird behavior and the girl's even weirder ensemble. But Emily just smiled. “How's Freedom?”

“Fine.”

“And Angel?”

Sophie deepened her scowl. “She's well.”

Emily smiled. “How about Marley?”

“What are you up—” Sophie began, but her father chimed in, interrupting them.

“Who's Marley?”

Emily's lips twitched a little, but her eyes remained suspiciously innocent. “He's one of the wild horses your daughter worries about.”

“Wild horses?” her mother asked.

Sophie lowered her brows. Her parents were acting flaky enough already without letting them slither deeper into her life here at the Lazy.

But Em seemed to have no such concerns. “There's a little band of mustangs that appeared a couple months ago. We don't know where they came from.”

“What do you mean . . . appeared?”

“Sometimes people just turn horses loose or drop them off out here in the boonies when nobody's looking.”

“You mean, like stray kittens?”

“Kind of,” Emily agreed and distributed the hot chocolate. Sophie took a mug and glared over the rim at her. “But bigger.”

“What do these horses eat?”

Emily shook her head. “Anything they can. That's where the problems start. Especially in the winter. They'll venture onto people's property. Sometimes they're shot so they don't compete for the cattle's feed.”

“That's terrible,” Monica said.

Emily shrugged. “With the changing weather patterns, hay is at a premium.”

“How much is it going for now?” Philip asked.

Emily shook her head. Her lips twitched again. “Soph would know the answer to that better than I.”

Sophie shifted narrowed eyes to her father. “Seven dollars a square, eighty per round.”

They stared at her, expressions blank.

“A lot,” she explained.

“How many horses are there?”

“Three that we've seen.”

“Why don't you just go catch them?” Monica asked. “Surely someone would take them in.”

Sophie blinked. Emily slipped unnoticed back to her refuge in the kitchen. “They're wild horses, Mother. You can't just hold out a carrot and expect them to hop in a trailer.”

“Well, how about a tranquilizer gun?”

Was she kidding? Sophie wondered but managed to keep the sarcasm out of her voice. “Do you happen to have one?”

“No. But I'm sure I could find someone who does.”

She nodded. When would this hell be over? “What do we do with them after they're sedated?”

Her mother's brows rose. “Well, we can't just let them starve.”

“I wish that was true,” Sophie said. “But—”

“Your mother's right,” her father agreed, and walking to the couch, picked up his coat. “Come on, ladies.”

“Where are you going?” Sophie asked.

“To save some horses.”

 

Emily added the chopped black walnuts to the bowl and refused to think of the purloined potpies she had feasted on less than a full year before.

How had Linc found her? And why?

“It's like . . .” Max Barrenger shook his head and closed his eyes. “Like a fresh-baked orgasm.”

But it didn't matter. Not in the long run. He had no power over her. Not anymore.

“Maxwell Barrenger the Second calling Emily Kane.”

“What?” she said and glanced up at him.

“I was extolling the virtues of these cookies,” he said. “Where were
you?
”

“I'm sorry. I've got a lot on my mind.”

“That's why you should say yes.”

“What?”

He smiled. The expression was self-deprecating and warm. “Wouldn't you like to have more time for Bliss?”

She scowled.

“I know it sounds cliché, but they grow up really fast, Em.” He had a faraway look in his eye. “And you don't get second chances.”

She glanced toward the bassinet. Bliss was getting so big already, and she
did
worry about losing precious time. But despite what she'd told Linc on the previous night, she knew she'd be an idiot to leave the Lazy with Max, a fool to trust a guy she had barely just met, to think some miracle man was going to come along and mend all her financial woes. She didn't believe in fairy tales. Hadn't for a long while.

“You need some time off,” he said. “Have you ever skied the Alps?”

She glanced up at him and laughed at his hopeful expression. “Do I look like someone who has time to ski the Alps?”

He grinned. “You don't look like you have time to blow your nose. But if your preserves were on supermarket shelves across the United States, you could do a little shooshing.” He made a swaying movement with his hips as if he were gliding down some distant mountain.

“I don't think I'm the shooshing type.”

“But maybe Baby Bliss will be. And how will you ever know if you're trapped here on the Lazy forever? Don't get me wrong,” he hurried to add. “This is a great place. A fantastic place. But you could have an amazing future ahead of you, Emily. Why not embrace it? Why not let me show you—” he began, but just then the front door burst open.

“Did you notice his color?” Sophie's voice was atypically ebullient from the entryway. “So unique! I think he's a true Spanish mustang.”

“He was spectacular!” Monica's voice evidenced a matching enthusiasm. “They all were.”

“Following their tracks was a fantastic idea, Neeca,” Philip Jaegar said. “Not strictly legal across private property maybe.”

His ex-wife laughed. “You've
never
cared about a little thing like legalities when you want something. Remember our honeymoon?”

Jaegar chuckled as he ushered the women into the kitchen. Sophie's eyes were bright, her mother's hair tousled. They looked like a family you'd find on the cover of a Christmas catalog.

Something clenched in Emily's gut, but she perked up her smile. “I'm guessing you had a successful day.”

“Mom bought a hundred bales of hay from Elmer Langley,” Sophie said.

“Highway robbery,” Monica complained and smoothed back her platinum hair. “For that kind of money you'd think he would have been willing to feed it to those wild horses by hand.”

“These old farmers are notoriously independent.” Jaegar chuckled. “I'll never forget the look on his face when we drove up in the pickup truck.”

Monica shook her head. “There's no one more stubborn than Philip Timothy Jaegar when he sets his mind to something.”

He grinned down at her, hand still resting on the small of her back. “I've been meaning to buy a new car for months.”

“Those wily old goats will probably relate to you better now that you're driving a truck, anyway,” Monica said.

“Wait a minute.” Emily raised her brows, addressing Philip. “You didn't buy a new pickup just to deliver hay, did you?”

He shrugged, mischievous grin stamped on his handsome features. “It's not as if it was brand new. It has a couple thousand miles on it.”

“Oh, well then . . .” Emily said. She felt strange, as if she were having an out-of-body experience. What would it be like to have that kind of money, to have the opportunity to be your kid's hero at the drop of a hat?

“That's the way to do it,” Max said. “It's nice to get your ride right off the showroom floor, but you pay through the nose for that privilege. Might as well let someone else drive the bugs out of it.”

“Exactly,” Philip said and checked his wristwatch. “Well, I'd better run. I still have some phone calls to make tonight. See you tomorrow, Soph?” Leaning down, he kissed her forehead.

“Sure,” she said.

He nodded, smiled, and turned toward his ex-wife. “There's still no one I'd rather have ride shotgun when I'm breaking the law,” he said, and she laughed as their eyes met.

For a moment Emily thought they would break into a kiss. She and Sophie seemed to be holding their collective breaths, but in a moment he turned and breezed out the door.

“Well . . .” Monica's cheeks were brushed with pink, her eyes bright. “I must look a fright. I guess I'll run up and dress for dinner. You should, too, Sophia, honey. We're going to want to get an early start tomorrow.”

“An early start at what?” Emily asked.

Monica swept the hair behind her left ear. A square-cut diamond winked in the lobe. “We're going to look at farms for sale.”

“Oh.” Something panged near Emily's heart. “That's great,” she said.

“Well . . .” Monica's gaze seemed to caress her daughter's face. “Sophia deserves to have somewhere to keep her strays.”

There was adoration in the woman's eyes, tenderness in her touch.

“Don't you think?” she asked, glancing up.

Emily shook herself from her trance. “Absolutely,” she said, but she didn't sell the line.

“Come on, honey. Let's go get changed,” Monica said, and the two hurried up the stairs together.

The kitchen went quiet.

“Well . . .” Max broke the silence as though it were lake ice. “It looks like they had quite a—”

“I'll do it,” Emily said.

He canted his head at her. “What?”

A knot grew in her throat but she spoke around it. “I'll go with you.”

“Honest to God?” he asked, and taking the three steps that remained between them, rested his hands on her arms.

“Why not?” she asked. “I've never stayed in one place this long in my entire life. And you're right, Bliss deserves more. Deserves . . .” The knot tightened, but it was time to leave. Time to soar from the nest. And in so doing, maybe Casie would feel free to soar, too.

“This is going to be great,” Max said, and leaned in. She turned her head, letting him brush her cheek with his lips. “I'm so happy,” he murmured.

“Yeah,” she said. “Me too.”

CHAPTER 25

“Y
ou got her coming along real good,” Ty said.

Sophie cued the palomino for a halt and glanced at him. He was handsome. There was no doubt about that. His cheekbones were high, his lips full, his jaw square and lean. But those features were almost forgettable, because it was his tender workingman's hands that drew her gaze. She had to fight to keep her attention on his face. And how damned freaky was that? “She's a fast learner.”

He lifted one shoulder and slipped his fingers into the front pockets of his jeans, hiding his ragged nails and callused palms.

Silence stretched between them, making Sophie's movements feel jerky as she eased the bit between the mare's teeth, replaced the bridle with a nylon halter, and tied her to the wall beside the bag of hay.

“I heard you was buying some land,” he said finally.

She chuckled. The noise sounded ridiculous, like a poor laugh track from a cheesy sitcom. “Not me. My mother . . .” Butterflies flittered in her stomach. Everything was happening so fast. Good things. All good, and yet . . . “And she's just looking.”

She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. His hands were still mostly hidden. Thank God.

“So you'll be leaving the Lazy.” It was half a question, half a statement.

The butterflies turned to bats, scratching Sophie's intestines. She shifted her gaze back to the mare and unbuckled the surcingle that encircled her heart girth. “It won't be for a while yet,” she said, and wondered how she would bear it. This grand, oft-dreamed-of event . . . how would she stand it?

“I suppose your dad can find a good deal pretty fast,” Ty said.

“Maybe. I guess he had a few places for Mom to look at, but she should be back today.” Sophie had had homes before, of course, private rooms in lavish houses, but none of them had looked out over an ancient windmill to the horse-speckled hills beyond. She barely remembered the brick Tudor where she'd lived until the divorce. The modern condominiums and European flats she'd shared with her solo parents since then had always had a two-dimensional feel to them regardless of the checks paid to sundry decorators.

Silence again, painful in its intensity.

“You got a minute?” Ty asked finally.

She turned toward him, surprised by the tone of his voice. He was always serious, always solemn and quiet, but there was an extra nervousness to the question. “Sure,” she said, stomach jumping. “I'll just put Evie away and—”

“She don't seem in no hurry to leave,” he said and watched the mare pull hay from the hole in the cotton bag hung up for that purpose.

“Oh. Okay,” Sophie said and walked toward him. Their gazes met. Silence sifted between them, but he turned away in a moment and walked outside.

She followed him into the waning daylight, but hadn't taken three steps beyond the barn's newly restored doors before stopping short. The Lazy's old sleigh stood in the snow before her. But the shafts had been replaced. They shone black and glossy, running straight and parallel toward the curved dash that preceded the new red-velvet seat.

“Oh . . .” She exhaled heavily and glanced toward him. “Ty . . .” He stood absolutely still, devastating hands tucked deep in his pockets. “How . . .” She shook her head and stepped forward to run her fingers over the tufted seat. “You did this?”

He shrugged, then shook his head. “It's Monty; he's got a knack for fixing stuff.”

“Colt's dad,” she said, but without half trying she remembered Ty hurrying away before dessert on a dozen occasions, remembered the streak of black paint that marred his jeans, that edged the crescents of his jagged nails.

“Yeah . . .” He shifted his weight, uncomfortable under her gaze. “He thought . . .” He shrugged. “Thought it would be good for you to have a nice cutter.”

She stared at him. She wasn't built for reading between the lines, for dissecting dialogue and deciphering moods. She was made for stating the facts and bearing the consequences. But he was different, kinder, better. And she could be cautious. “Why would he think that?”

He scowled. “Guess he musta heard you was training a driving horse.”

“From whom?”

“What?” He shifted again, eyes wary, shoulders pushing hands deeper into hiding.

“Who told him?” she asked.

“I don't know.” He looked belligerent now and a little desperate. “It ain't no secret you got a way with horses.”

She skimmed her fingers over the delicately scrolled metal rail that ran along the top of the shiny wood side. “Did you have to replace the original brass?”

He shook his head. “Once I got it off there, it wasn't real hard getting the dents out of it. It was getting it screwed back in that took—” He paused.

She shot her gaze to his. He deepened his scowl. “That's what Monty said, anyhow.”

She'd caught him in a lie. Maybe under different circumstances she would feel as if she'd won a round, but her soul hurt.

For a moment he looked like he would bolt, but he managed to stay put. “Well . . . I'd best be getting back to—”

“Casie will really appreciate this,” she said and cleared her throat. “And Emily.” She nodded. “They'll be able to drive it in parades and stuff to advertise the ranch.”

His brows lowered beneath the frayed brim of his stupid cap. “It ain't
Casie's
.”

She blinked at him.

“I mean . . . it used to be. But she didn't want it no more. Wasn't doing her no good like it was.” He glanced away again. “Said you should take it with you.”

Her eyes stung and her throat felt dangerously tight. “I won't have a horse to pull it,” she said, but her voice was just a whisper.

He shifted his weight as if to step toward her, but then he settled back on his heels. A muscle jumped in his hungry jaw. “You will soon enough,” he said. “Your dad'll buy you some.”

She swallowed. “They won't be like the Lazy's horses.”

He chuckled. But his eyes looked bright. “These old nags?” He waved a soulful hand vaguely toward the herds scattered across the hills. “Not hardly.” The muscle jumped again. “They'll be thoroughbreds. Pedigreed back to some Bedouin tent somewhere.”

She took a step toward him, drawn in by that one haunting hand. “What if I . . .” She stopped herself, physically and verbally.

He winced as their eyes met, then drew a deep breath and nodded. “You gotta go, Soph,” he said. “They're your family.”

“You left
your
family.” Her words were barely audible in the chill stillness.

He shuffled his feet and glanced off toward where he'd grown up not three miles to the west. “I think you know why that is as good as anybody does.”

It was because his parents were ogres. She knew that, but . . . “It's not as if Monica and Philip are going to win any parental awards.”

“They're trying, though.” He drew a deep breath as if searching for calm. “So you gotta try, too.”

She didn't respond. Couldn't.

“Well . . .” he began again, but she stopped him.

“We could hitch it up.”

“What's that?”

“The cutter,” she said, and wondered if she sounded as pitiful as she felt. “We could give it a test-drive.”

He glanced away. “I don't know. I should probably get to doing chores.”

“Yeah,” she agreed, but suddenly she seemed to be channeling Emily's manipulative ways. “Don't worry about it. I'm sure Evie will handle it just fine.”

His brows lowered. “What do you mean? You think it'll spook her?”

“Horses don't generally love the idea of dragging terrifying stuff around behind them.”

“I suppose you're right.”

“You don't have to worry about it, though. Like I said, she's a fast learner.”

He shuffled his battered boots for a moment and glanced over the hills before turning resolutely back. “Then we might as well hitch her up.”

“What?”

“Well . . .” He cleared his throat. “It won't take much time, right?”

In the end it took nearly a half hour just to figure out the harness; Evie wasn't the only one new to the process. Neither handler was exactly certain what to do with all the straps and buckles, but finally they had the sleigh hooked up.

Sophie glanced at Ty, stationed beside the mare's neck. Evie pulled another hank of alfalfa from the bag they'd brought with them to the arena.

“What do you think?” she asked. Her nerves were cranked up tight. Cart horses could get in some spectacular wrecks.

“She seems pretty calm.”

“Maybe that's because she's waiting to surprise us.” Sophie had learned early on that horses were unpredictable at best.

“She was good when we dragged it around her.” That had been Ty's idea. And a pretty good one, she thought.

“I guess there's only one way to find out.”

He nodded. The motion was tense. “How 'bout I take the lines and you stand back there a ways and tell me how to do things?”

She scowled at him. “Why would I stand back there?”

He shrugged. He wasn't much better at lying than she was. “You'll be able to see her reactions, guess what she's gonna do.”

“Why don't
you
stand back there?”

“I don't know her like you do. It only makes sense—”

“Ty . . .”

He paused, expression somber.

Jack crouched in the snow a few yards away, ears pricked at the tips as if he absorbed every word.

Sophie exhaled carefully, broaching a subject that had lain neglected since her accident months before. “It wasn't your fault.”

“What's that?”

“My concussion.”

“I know that. I just . . .” He stopped himself again, but finally pushed on. “I just don't want a repeat performance, is all.”

She knew she should be insulted. Who did he think she was? Some weak-kneed city girl who couldn't take her blows? She should tell him that she could look out for herself. She raised her chin, prepared to say just that, but he had one hand curled around Evie's bridle while the other caressed the mare's neck with feather-soft strokes.

She winced at the sight of his fingertips against the golden hide.

“I don't really want you to get hurt, either.” She said the words very softly, as if she was about to cry, as if she
were
that weak-kneed city girl. She turned away and closed her eyes for a second. In her mind, his hand still stroked the mare's neck. She tried to shake the image from her brain. “How about you get in the sleigh. I'll stay close to Evie. Calm her if she gets upset.”

“No.”

She turned toward him.

He shook his head, eyes intense. “I'll take her bridle. You takes the lines.”

“Why?” A hint of her usual recalcitrance slipped through now. It was about damned time.

“Because you know what you're doing and I'm . . .”

“What?” she challenged.

“I'm heavier. Can hold her down better if she rears or something.”

It was the funniest thing she had ever heard. She almost laughed out loud. “You could just say you're stronger, Ty. I wouldn't hold it against you if that's what you're thinking.”

He winced, expression pained. “Truth is, I was thinking that you was prettier.”

She felt her breath hitch in her throat, but tried to swallow such foolishness. It wasn't as if this was a secret. She'd been told she was beautiful from the day she was born. But somehow it had never mattered until this moment. “I don't . . .” She tried to glance away, failed, and tried again. “I don't know what that has to do with anything.”

“If you was scarred, I'd blame myself till the day they put me under,” he said.

She blinked, caught in the moment.

“And . . .” He shrugged. A hint of rare humor touched his eyes. His lips twitched up the slightest degree. “Your dad'd kill me.”

Sophie's heart ached. How had she lived so long without seeing him smile? And how would she go on after this? she wondered, but reached hopelessly for normalcy. “It's really my mother you should worry about.”

“Oh I do. She scares the living daylights out of me,” he said, and she laughed despite herself.

“I'll let you take the bridle if you promise to let her go if she rears.”

“If I let her go, what good would I be doing?”

Sophie glanced toward the house. “Have you ever thought about what would happen if I allowed
you
to be injured?”

He scowled at her.

“Casie would have my hide.”

He reared back a little in surprise. “She wouldn't never blame you.”

“Are you kidding me?” she asked.

For a moment she thought he would argue, but maybe even
he
couldn't completely ignore Casie's adoration. “She cares a whole lot about you, too, Soph.”

“She'd trade five of me in for one of your
boots
.”

He squared his jaw a little. “There ain't but one Sophie Jaegar,” he said.

For all she knew that might be the smoothest insult she had ever heard, but it didn't feel like it. She swallowed, trying to ease the pain in her throat. “Just . . .” She glanced at Evie, calm as toast in her traces. “Just be careful, okay?”

“You too.”

With that she nodded and paced back to the sleigh. Once there, she stepped tentatively onto the floor and pulled her weight upward. Evie flicked back her ears. Ty tightened his hold on her bridle and spoke quietly, soothing her.