McKettricks of Texas: Garrett (8 page)

“Okay,” he said, at long last.

“Okay,” Julie agreed.

By the time they arrived at the ranch house, Calvin was sound asleep.

He'd had a very big day for such a little guy.

Garrett happened to be in the garage when Julie pulled in. He was standing on the front bumper of an old red pickup truck, the hood raised, doing something to the works inside.

Seeing Julie, he gave a grin that stopped just short of his eyes, got down off the bumper with the same grace as
he'd descended from the horse in Tate's yard earlier, and reached for a rag to wipe his hands clean.

Julie looked him over, and didn't see so much as a smidgeon of grease. When her gaze came back to his face, and she realized he'd been watching her scan him from head to foot, she blushed.

“Need some help?” he asked, when she opened the back door of the car, about to hoist Calvin out of his safety seat.

The child was nodding, half awake, half deeply asleep.

He was heavy, and Julie suddenly felt the weight of all the things she carried, visible and invisible, as she moved out of Garrett's way. Allowed him to unbuckle Calvin and lift him into his arms.

Calvin yawned, laid his head on Garrett's shoulder and went back to sleep.

The sight of this man carrying her son struck Julie in a tender place, and she wondered why that hadn't happened when she'd seen Calvin and Gordon together earlier, at the restaurant.

Julie shut the car door and followed Garrett into the kitchen, across that wide space and into the hallway leading to the guest suite she and Calvin had been occupying since the exterminators had tented the cottage.

The apartment was comfortable, though small. It boasted two bedrooms, a full bath and a little sitting room with a working fireplace and large, soft armchairs upholstered in a floral pattern made chicly shabby by age.

Harry lay curled up on a rug in front of the cold hearth, and looked up with a big dog yawn as they entered.

“You're quite a guard dog, Harry,” Julie told the animal wryly.

Garrett chuckled at that, paused to look back at her.

“To your right,” Julie said, in answer to the unspoken question.

He nodded, carried Calvin into the tiny bedroom.

Julie switched on the lamp on the pinewood dresser, rather than the overhead, and watched as Garrett put Calvin down carefully on the bed and stepped away, then out of the room.

Calvin stirred, blinking, his glasses askew.

Julie, now seated on the edge of his bed, set the specs aside and kissed the little boy's forehead.

“Do I have to wash and brush my teeth?” he asked.

“Yes,” Julie told him. She got it then—Calvin had almost surely been pretending to be asleep all along, so Garrett would carry him. “And you have to put on your pajamas, too.”

“What about my prayers?” Calvin negotiated, as Julie shifted to tug off his little tennis shoes. “Do I have to say them?”

“That's between you and God,” Julie replied.

She stood, went to the dresser, took a set of yellow cotton PJ's from the top drawer, handed them to him.

Calvin was on his feet by then, resigned to washing up and brushing his teeth.

Julie waited, smiling to herself.

She heard the toilet flush, then water running in the sink.

When Calvin returned, Julie was sitting on the side of his bed and Harry was snugged in down by the footboard. Remarkably agile on his three legs, the dog had jumped up unassisted, just as he did every night.

Julie rose, and Calvin climbed into bed, staring soberly up at Julie while she tucked him in. She was oddly aware of Garrett nearby, either in the sitting room of the suite or beyond, in the big kitchen.

“I love you,” she said.

Calvin grinned. “I love you more,” he countered. It was a game they played, the two of them.

“I love you all the way to the moon and back,” Julie replied.

“I love you twice that much.”

“I love you
ten times
more,” Julie batted back.

“I love you all the numbers in the world,” Calvin finished triumphantly.

Julie laughed, accepting defeat gracefully. She could have thrown infinity at him, but he would merely have doubled it.

Her heart was full when she kissed Calvin once more, for good measure. She barely kept herself from hauling him into her arms and holding him tight, tight, tight.

Of course, that would have worried him.

“Can I ride on Dark Moon again tomorrow?” he asked, as she paused at the bedroom door to switch off the lamp. “If Tate is there, or Garrett?”

Julie debated silently for a few moments, then gave a suitably noncommittal answer. “Let me talk the idea over with your aunt Libby first,” she said. “Maybe it would be better if you rode one of the twins' ponies instead of a big one. The ponies are more your size.”

Calvin's smile, though tentative, was worth everything to Julie. “I wish I could have my own pony,” he said, in an awed whisper. “My very own pony, black and white. I'd name him something cool, like Old Paint.”

“Even if he wasn't old?” Julie teased. She knew she shouldn't have played along with the pony fantasy—not even for a few moments—since it wasn't one she could fulfill, but she didn't have the heart to throw cold water on the idea.

Calvin beamed. “He could be
Young
Paint, then, I
guess,” he said. Without his glasses he looked even younger than he was, and more vulnerable, too.

Again, Julie wanted to gather her baby into her arms and clutch him close to her. Again, for the sake of Calvin's dignity, she resisted the urge.

He yawned big and closed his eyes. Made a little crooning sound as he settled into his pillow, into his little-boy dreams.

Julie rose and went to the doorway, lingered on the threshold, listening as his breathing slowed and deepened.

He was asleep within moments.

And Garrett was still in the sitting room.

“Got a minute?” he asked.

Julie longed for a bath, a soft nightgown and eight full hours of sleep, but nodded.

“Sit down,” Garrett said.

She took one of the shabby-chic chairs, and he took the other.

The chairs faced each other, and their knees, his and hers, almost touched.

“About today,” Garrett began.

Julie put up a hand. “I overreacted,” she said. “To the horse, I mean. I just—I don't know—a lot of things happened earlier, and I guess I just panicked—”

Garrett grinned. “You're the boy's mother,” he added, when she fell silent. “If you don't want him riding horseback, that's certainly your prerogative.”

Julie nodded, then shook her head, then blushed. What was it about being in this man's presence that made her feel so rattled and so confused, so off balance? No one else affected her that way—no one ever had. Not even Gordon, when they were together.

“Libby and Paige are always telling me I'm too protective of Calvin,” she said. “And they're right. He has asthma, but it's not as if he's fragile or anything. I don't want him to grow up frightened of all the things that scare
me.
”

“What scares you, Julie?” Garrett asked, resting one booted foot on the opposite knee and settling back in the big armchair. He was so wholly, uncompromisingly male, so at home in his own skin, that Julie began to feel warm again.

“The uncertainty, I guess,” she answered, after giving the question some thought. “What if he gets hurt? What if he gets sick? What if—?” Julie stopped herself, shook her head. “You see what I mean.”

Garrett nodded. “Libby looks out for Calvin when you're not around,” he told her. “So does Tate.”

“I know,” she said.

Garrett leaned forward a little. Lamplight played in his longish dark blond hair. “Are you afraid of horses, Julie?”

She stiffened. “Afraid?”

“Afraid for yourself, I mean.”

She shook her head. “I used to ride a lot,” she said. “When I was younger.”

That wicked, McKettrick-patented grin flashed. “But now that you're old and decrepit, you don't?”

She laughed. “It's been a while,” she admitted, sobering.

“There's a bright moon out,” he said. “How about a ride?”

The prospect, out-of-the-blue, off-the-wall
crazy
as it was, had more appeal than Julie would have expected it to. “Calvin's in bed,” she said. “I can't just go off…”

“Esperanza's still up,” Garrett said easily, when Julie ran out of steam in the middle of her sentence. “I heard her TV when we came in earlier. She could sit with Calvin for a while.”

Julie shook her head. “I wouldn't want to impose.”

Garrett was already on his feet, headed for the door. He seemed to have no doubt at all that the family housekeeper would agree to serve as an impromptu babysitter.

In the doorway, he stopped and looked back at Julie. “You'll want to switch that getup for jeans and a warm shirt, a jacket and boots,” he said.

“But I—”

But Garrett had already left the room.

Within twenty minutes, Esperanza had settled herself on the sitting room couch, knitting and smiling while she watched TV, the sound muted.

Julie was wearing jeans, boots, a thick shirt and a denim jacket.

How did this happen?
she asked herself, as she followed Garrett across the kitchen, out the back door, across the broad, grassy yard toward the barn.
How did I get here?

The moon and stars were so bright that night, she could have read by them. Small print, no less.

“Is this even safe?” she asked. “Going riding? What if the horses can't see?”

Garrett glanced back at her. “Does everything you do have to be safe?” he countered.

“I'm the single mother of a very young child,” she retorted, mildly defensive. “So,
yes,
everything I do has to be safe. As safe as I can make it, anyway.”

“I'll put you on the tamest horse we have,” Garrett replied, waiting until she caught up, fell into step next to him. “We'll stay on soft ground—not that Ladybug would ever throw you—and it's like daylight out here.”

Julie said nothing. She didn't look at Garrett, didn't
want him to see in her face that for all her misgivings, she was excited by the adventure. Maybe even a little thrilled.

“Unless, of course,” Garrett went on, stepping in front of her just before they reached the entrance to the barn, blocking her way, causing her to look up at him in surprise, “it's not the horse you're afraid of.”

Julie thrust out her chin, rested her hands on her hips, elbows sticking out. “If you're implying that I'm afraid of
you,
Garrett McKettrick—”

“No,” he agreed, curving a finger under her chin and lifting, “but you might be a little scared of
yourself.
”

She gave a huffy burst of laughter, though the truth was that she
was
scared. “Oh, right,” she said, having no choice but to tough it out. “I'm
terrified.
I might be overcome by your masculine charms, lose control, throw myself at you. It could happen at any moment!”

Garrett laughed again, and for one lovely, dreadful skittering beat of her heart, she thought he was going to kiss her.

Instead, he took her hand and led her into the barn.

Various motion-sensor lights came on as they entered, but mostly the stalls were dark.

Julie sat on a bale of hay, trying to think of a way to get out of going riding in the dark without sounding chicken, wanting, at the same time, more than practically anything,
ever,
this ride, on this night, with this man.

Garrett whistled under his breath as he led two horses out into the wide sawdust-covered aisle between the long rows of stalls and saddled them.

And Julie wondered why she wasn't behaving like a sane woman, a teacher and a mother, soaking in a nice bath, or sipping a cup of herbal tea, or a glass of white wine, before climbing into bed.

“Ready?” Garrett asked, startling her a little.

She stood. “Ready,” she said.

They led the horses out into a star-silvered night, and Julie mounted without waiting for Garrett. She hadn't ridden in years—not since high school, when she'd sometimes visited the McKettrick ranch with Libby. Even then, her sister and Tate had been in love, though they would have a lot of rivers to cross before they found their way back to each other.

Garrett climbed onto his own horse, and although she couldn't be sure, Julie would have sworn he winced a little as he lowered himself into the saddle.

A smile touched down on Julie's mouth, immediately flew away again. Of
course,
she thought, Garrett had been wearing a suit to work for years. Sitting at desks. Yes, he was a McKettrick through and through, and riding was in his blood, but she wasn't the only one likely to be sore in the morning.

He bent from the saddle to work the latch on a gate, rode through and waited for Julie before shutting it again behind her.

They followed the shining ribbon of creek winding along the lower end of the range, and the lights of staff trailers and Tate and Libby's house gleamed distantly through the trees.

The peace was all-encompassing, and there was no need for words.

Julie drank it all in, the country quiet, the cloppity-clop of the horses' hooves, the babbling murmur of the creek, the sighs and whispers of the wind. The cattle were quiet, some lying down, dark lumps in the moonlight, others still grazing. Once in a while, one of them gave a low, mournful call.

She tilted her head back, breathed in not only fresh, cool air, but the very light of the stars and the moon, or so it seemed to her. She hadn't done anything this impulsive since—well, since she couldn't remember when. She was a single mother, a teacher. She loved her son, she worked and struggled and…she survived.