Ultimate Texas Bachelor (10 page)

“We were just playing ranchers and rustlers,” nine-year-old Kurt explained to the five grown-ups who had been worried about them.

“Yeah.” Eight-year-old Kyle chimed in, more interested in the game they had been playing than the safety issues in question. “Kurt stole Rocco—he was pretending to be our prize bull—and me and Petey had to go and get 'em.”

“That's all fine and good,” Travis said sternly. “But you need to play that game in the yard where we can see you.”

Brad nodded in agreement, looking sober indeed. “Those woods are deceptively deep. You guys could get lost out there.”

“Or at the very least come down with a good case of poison oak or ivy!” Lainey said, belatedly aware she hadn't once thought to caution Petey about that. But she hadn't expected him to run off, either. “You don't have jeans and long-sleeved shirts on,” she explained, more to her son than to the other two boys who lived on the ranch and knew the precautions necessary. “You're in shorts and T-shirts.”

Abruptly, Petey's temper flared. “I don't even have any jeans here, Mom!” he fumed.

Lainey stared at her son in shock, embarrassed by his sassy tone. “Since when do you talk back to me?”

Petey folded his arms and glared at Lainey petulantly. “Since you treat me like a baby instead of a grown-up guy.”

Well, maybe that's because you're not a grown-up guy,
Lainey thought, aware this was not a discussion she wanted to have here. “I think we need to go home,” she said, plastering a cordial smile on her face. She knew she was being abrupt, but it had been a very long day and she could see Petey was close to a meltdown. “Thank you so much for a lovely dinner and play date.”

“I don't want to go home!” Petey shouted in a manner that was completely unlike him.

His two playmates, who might be prone to mischief but knew better than to talk back, fell silent, looking shocked, too. Duke lay on the ground at their feet, panting hard after his exertion in the heat of the summer evening.

“We're going,” Lainey said firmly. She put her hand on Petey's shoulder.

Petey jerked free. He was already scratching furiously at his neck, legs and arms.

Brad's expression went from sympathy to concern. “Better get him in the shower as soon as possible. Lots of soap and water everywhere he might have come into contact with poison oak, ivy or sumac.”

“You guys, too.” Annie herded her two youngest sons toward the house.

Travis nodded before turning to follow his wife and boys. “And be careful handling his clothes,” he told Lainey. “They could have the oily residue from the poison weeds on them, too.”

“Thanks,” Lainey said. She knew all this, but it had been so long since she'd been out in the Texas countryside and had had to deal with it that she had almost forgotten.

“You can't make me do anything I don't want to do!” Petey continued to shout ferociously.

Tired of fooling around, Lainey took Petey by the arm, her manner no-nonsense. “We'll just see about that, young man,” she said, already guiding him in the direction of their SUV. “Now march!”

 

L
AINEY PHONED THE RANCH HOUSE
as soon as Petey was out of the shower. “Do you guys have anything for chigger bites on hand?” If they didn't, she was going to have to pack Petey in the car, pajamas and all, and drive to town.

“Be right over,” Brad said.

He was at the guest house door two minutes later, bottle of Listerine mouthwash in hand, looking ready, able and eager to help.

“The insect bites are on his arms, legs, neck and face, not in his mouth,” Lainey said dryly, feeling ridiculously glad to have him there as backup. She ushered him inside.

“Oh, ye of little faith,” Brad said dryly. Petey emerged from the bathroom, clad in a pair of cotton sleep shorts and a Texas Rangers T-shirt.

Brad knelt in front of Petey. “Pretty miserable, huh?”

Petey glared at Lainey, like she was the worst mother on the entire planet, then looked back at Brad with a sad little nod. “I itch so bad,” Petey whispered, as if Brad were his only friend left in the world.

Brad gave Petey a reassuring pat on his shoulder, letting Petey know with a look that things were going to be all right very soon, then asked Lainey quietly, “Do you have a small bowl or something I could pour this into?”

Lainey went to get it. Brad followed, her son in hand, and hefted Petey onto the kitchen counter as if he weighed five—not sixty-five—pounds. “This seem strange to you?” Brad asked Petey as he dipped a cotton ball into the minty-smelling mouthwash and began daubing it on the red welts on Petey's legs.

Petey nodded.

“Well, give it a minute,” Brad advised.

“That feels kind of good,” Petey said, after a moment. He looked at Brad gratefully. “It doesn't itch no more.”

“Anymore,” Lainey corrected.

Petey glared at her again.

“Forgive me for being a mother,” she muttered under her breath.

Brad grinned. He gave Petey a commiserating look as he dipped the cotton ball in mouthwash and began attending to the angry red bites on Petey's arms. “Women.” Brad shook his head. “What are you going to do?”

Petey mimicked Brad's droll gesture and heaved a great big sigh. “I don't know,” he said.

Grateful to Brad not only for making her son more comfortable, but for defusing the potentially explosive situation, Lainey leaned against the counter, watching. Chip had loved
Petey dearly, but he had been a hands-off father when it came to anything practical. Chip had never changed a diaper, or gotten up with Petey in the middle of the night, or helped him learn his spelling words. She sensed Brad would do all that for any child of his, and more.

“Where did you get the idea to do this?” she asked.

“My brother, Riley.”

“The physician who is coming to town soon?”

“Right. He learned it in medical school. I guess they did some studies and found that the herbal ingredients in Listerine have both antifungal and anti-itch properties. It kills the chigger, soothes the site of the bite, and voilà…you're better before you know it.” Brad daubed Listerine on the spots on Petey's neck, then stood back. “Okay, cowboy, do you feel like I missed any? Are you still itching anywhere?”

Petey shook his head. “Thanks, Brad.”

“You're welcome.” Brad held out his hand. “Put her there, pardner.”

Petey shook his hand.

Lainey hated to break it up, but she knew Petey was tired to the point of exhaustion. “Okay, sport, thank Brad and then head to bed.”

Petey turned to Lainey, the anger gone. In its place was the need to make up with her, at least most of the way, before he went to sleep. “Can I read for a little bit?”

Lainey doubted he'd get past two pages, but she never discouraged reading. She knew it was the key to his future success. “Yes.”

Petey turned back to Brad. “Thank you for helping me out. My mommy wouldn't have known what to do to make me stop itching so fast.”

Lainey's jaw dropped. That wasn't quite true. And the glint in Brad's eyes as he glanced at her told her he knew it, too.

“Anytime you need anything you let me know.” Brad ruf
fled Petey's head. The boy grinned and started back to his bedroom. Lainey was about to say something when her son turned back, gave her a brief, sorrow-laced hug, and then departed once again. Brad returned to the kitchen. He capped the bottle of Listerine. “You want to keep this? I've got an extra bottle at the house.”

“If you don't mind, I think I will. And thanks—for helping and coming over.” Lainey walked him out to the front porch. Darkness was descending. It was going to be a clear, pretty night, with lots of stars in the velvety Texas sky overhead.

“I'm sorry he was upset earlier.”

“He was just overtired,” she said.

“Sure that's all it is?”

Leave it to Brad to hit the nail on the head. Lainey bit her lip. Who would have thought he could be this easy to talk to? “He's having a hard time lately.”

Brad's expression gentled. “Because he lost his dad?”

Lainey hesitated, more unsure of herself than ever. Something else that was unusual. Her ability to mother was the one thing she had always been confident about. “I don't know. It's been two years.”

“Yet—?” He studied her, guessing there was more.

Lainey perched on the porch railing, her back to the yard, and ran a hand down the sturdy wooden post that supported the roof. “He was doing so well. I mean, initially, when Chip died, he had trouble concentrating at school, cried a lot and missed his father terribly during holidays. But as time wore on and almost two years passed, he seemed to be coping great. Then, suddenly, this last spring, he wasn't coping so well anymore. The things that used to make him so happy—spending time with his cousins, going on family outings, even going to the playground at the park—have left him tense and irritable.”

Compassion crossed Brad's face beneath the warm glow of the porch lights. “Because he misses his dad?”

“And because he's growing up without one and thinks I treat him too much like a baby.”

Edging nearer, Brad stood with his legs braced apart, hands in the back pockets of his jeans. “You don't. I've seen you with him. You are remarkably gentle and respectful, even when Petey's in the midst of having a meltdown.”

“Thank you.” She ducked her head. “But I don't feel so competent.” She lifted her head again and looked into his eyes. “That's why I wanted to spend some time in Laramie this summer and let him participate in the game-testing program at Lewis's company. And be out here at the ranch, too. I thought a change of pace might lift his spirits. Take the quarrelsome edge, that occasionally seems to appear with no warning or reason, off his demeanor. I thought it was working, that he was really happy again. Now, I'm not so sure.”

Brad moved to perch beside her on the railing. He reached over and took her hand in his. “He's just a little kid, Lainey. He's going to have his good days and his bad, regardless of how you mother him.”

She tried not to think about how good it felt to have her hand clasped in that warm, strong palm. “And how would you know that?” she probed.

Brad grimaced, the brooding look back in his eyes. “Because I lost a parent, too.”

Compassion filled Lainey's heart. “How old were you when your mom died?”

“Fourteen. But she was ill for months before that.”

“Breast cancer, right?” Lainey asked, aware this was the first time Brad had allowed himself to be really vulnerable to her.

He nodded. “I was a lot older than Petey. Old enough to understand that life isn't always fair, and sometimes people get sick and they die. But it was still hard for me and my siblings and especially my dad, because he loved my mom so much. We all did.”

Lainey had been married with a family of her own when she lost her parents. That had been difficult enough. She tightened her grip on Brad's hand. “As a kid…as a family…how did you cope?” Did the McCabes have some lessons they could impart to her?

“At first we were just so numb,” Brad allowed reluctantly. His eyes took on a distant look. “I think to outsiders it looked like we were doing better than we were because everyone was still going through the motions, just the way we had when Mom was alive. But then as time went on the charade got harder and harder to maintain and everything began to fall apart. We went through nanny after nanny. Finally, in desperation, Dad moved us here, and that's when Kate Marten—my
stepmother—came into our lives and made us deal with our loss.”

“That's just it, though, Brad,” Lainey said softly. “I'm almost certain Petey has already worked through his loss.”

“Then what could be causing this difference in his behavior?”

She shrugged, averting her gaze from the tempting proximity of his chiseled lips. “My sister-in-law, Bunny, thinks it's growing pains combined with the lack of male influence in his life.”

He cupped her hand in both of his. “But you don't agree.”

She studied their clasped hands, aware of how natural this felt. “I know he misses being around Chip. All you have to do is look at how he perks up whenever you, Lewis, Travis and all the other guys around here pay him attention.”

“He's a great kid. We enjoy being around him.”

“And he, you.”

An awkward silence fell between them. She knew she should either end the evening now…or risk kissing again. Deciding she needed her wits about her to complete the story she'd been assigned, she stood.

Before she got more than two steps away, Brad caught her wrist and tugged her back.

She pivoted to face him.

“I feel like I shouldn't have to say this,” he stated seriously, “but what I told you earlier about Yvonne pretending to be one kind of person when she was really another…that stays between the two of us. I don't want anyone else—even my family—suspecting how I was duped.”

Guilt flooded her. Much more than just Brad's pride was at stake here. “Until you tell me otherwise, absolutely,” she promised, meaning it.

“I'm not changing my mind about this, Lainey,” he warned gruffly, closing the distance between them. “My private life, the way I was deliberately set up, is not for public consumption.”

Well, there went her article for
Personalities
and the
chance to jump-start her journalism career at the national level, Lainey thought, depressed. Unless she could convince him to change his mind, of course.

Did she want to?

Brad picked up on her confusion. And misjudged the reason for it.

“About earlier,” he said after a moment.

She had only to look into his eyes to know he was talking about the passionate clinch that still had her insides humming with unslaked desire. Embarrassed at the lack of restraint she had shown when he pulled her into his arms, she moved to the edge of the porch and glanced away. “We don't have to talk about that.”

He followed her, standing so close she could feel the warmth of his body and hear the slow, steady meter of his breath. “Suppose I want to?” he said quietly.

If she let her guard down, she knew what would happen. She couldn't risk falling head over heels in love with a man she was trying her best to remain objective about. She knew full well that business and pleasure did not mix. So she pretended this was about something other than what it was, too. “Look, I know you're more experienced in that particular arena than I am,” she said, focusing strictly on the highly sexual nature of the encounter.

“Don't bet on it. I haven't been married or had a child with someone—both things that I am guessing lead to greater intimacy and satisfaction.”

Lainey didn't want to admit how lacking her previous marriage had been in that regard. She paused, worrying her lower lip with her teeth and looked deep into his eyes, finding all the understanding—and respect—she ever could have wished for. “But I don't mess around for sport,” she noted softly. “When I kiss someone it means something.”

Too late, she realized how insulting that sounded.

To her surprise, Brad didn't seem to mind. Or even disagree.

He leaned toward her intimately, looking sexy as hell. Every bit the intimidating bachelor he had been on TV. “Maybe that's the problem,” he said, grasping her by the shoulders. “Whenever I've kissed someone, prior to you, anyway, it's never once meant anything close to what it should.”

The gentle warmth of his fingers penetrated her skin. “What are you trying to say?” she murmured, wishing she didn't recall quite so vividly how passionately he'd kissed, or how tenderly he'd held her in his arms.

His gaze drifted over her as he favored her with a rakish smile. “It's high time my kisses did mean something.” He took her all the way into his arms and tilted his head over hers. “It's high time,” he told her, mouth lowering, “I felt something more than simple desire.”

He gave her an instant to pull away if that was what she wanted. When she went toward him instead, he murmured a soft sound of approval and took her mouth deliberately, kissing her deeply. She clung to him, kissing him back, savoring the scent and feel and taste of him. Sensations swirled through her. His hands moved down her spine, working their magic.

“It's time I let myself feel what you and I were both meant to feel about each other,” he whispered, probing her mouth with evocative thrusts of his tongue.

The kiss turned sweeter, more tender. “Brad, I—we—really shouldn't do…” Her will faltered.

“Do what?” he prompted lazily, kissing her again and again and again.

“This,” she said, kissing him back.

When he finally let her go, she was so dizzy she could barely stand. Her insides were humming.

Brad smiled as he stroked his hands through her hair, caressed her face. “I know we have to say good night,” he told her reluctantly. “I know Petey is sleeping inside and we have to set an example, but something is happening here, Lainey. Something good.”

As much as she wanted to, Lainey could not deny it.

 

“I
NEED TO KNOW
you're making progress,” Sybil said, early the next morning.

Lainey was certainly trying. She wanted nothing more than to get this assignment behind her. She had been up half the night, researching Yvonne Rathbone and Brad McCabe and everything she could find that had been written about the
Bachelor Bliss
episodes starring them. The Internet was full of previously published articles about the couple. But no one knew even a smidgen of the truth about what had happened to break them up—except Lainey. And unfortunately, Brad had not yet consented to tell Lainey everything or let anyone else, even his family, in on the secret.

Lainey still hoped that would change.

The secrets were eating him alive.

In the meantime, she was between a rock and a hard place, trapped between a man who was quickly becoming very important to her, and the job she had been contracted to do.

Aware her boss was waiting, Lainey briefed Sybil on the telephone interview with the Hollywood producer who had hired Yvonne to guest-star in two prime-time dramas.

“She certainly hasn't lost out on anything since Brad McCabe broke up with her on national TV.”

Sybil was right, Lainey thought. Brad had been the one who had done all the losing, who'd had his reputation trashed. The unfairness of it all bothered her immensely. “I tracked down the phone numbers of the other female contestants on the show. I've been talking to them one by one.”

“And?”

“Let's just say Yvonne was not well liked by the others,” Lainey said.

“That could be shrugged off as jealousy, since Yvonne won more time alone with Brad and the chance to win his heart.”

Which Yvonne hadn't. “Somehow, I think it's more than that.”

“But no one's told you why Brad McCabe pulled the Jekyll and Hyde act,” Sybil said.

“No, so far everyone has been very diplomatic,” Lainey admitted reluctantly. “But I watched the DVDs of the show on my laptop again last night.” After Brad had left and she was sure Petey was sound asleep. “And I zeroed in on the three most emotional women of the group. I'm hoping one of them will tell me something everyone else has been too discreet to say.”

“You know you've got less than a week left to pull this off.”

Lainey did not need reminding.

“I'm counting on you, Lainey,” she persisted, sounding every bit as determined to succeed as she had been in college. “My winning the top slot at
Personalities
depends on my being able to pull this off. A lot is riding on my all-Texas issue,” Sybil finished emphatically.

Including, Lainey thought, her own future.

 

“C
AN
I, M
OM
? P
LEASE
?” Petey asked over breakfast that morning. “It's my big chance to be a real cowboy, just like Brad.”

Lainey grinned at the exuberance in her son's voice. How long since he had shown such enthusiasm for anything? Months, she knew.

Lainey looked at Brad. “You're sure you want to take Petey with you to pick up the heifers this morning?”

He nodded. “The Triple T isn't that far. Only about an hour from here.”

“You're sure he won't be in the way when you're loading the animals?”

“The cowboys at the Triple T will be putting them on the truck. All Petey and I will be doing is making sure that the animals they are loading are the ones I bought last week.”

“How are you going to do that?” Lainey put platters of scrambled eggs, crisp apple-wood-smoked bacon and piping
hot blueberry muffins on the table. “Don't they all sort of look alike?” They did to her, anyway.

“The animals are tagged with numbers on their ears,” Petey explained. “Brad says it's sort of like cattle earrings.”

“Good thing they're female, then,” Lewis teased.

“Steers have 'em, too,” Petey explained importantly. “That way the cowboys can tell 'em apart when they get to the rodeo.”

Lainey looked at Brad in surprise. She knew she should be accustomed by now, but she couldn't get over how ruggedly handsome Brad looked in the morning, even with rumpled hair and in need of a shave, as he was right now. She'd been around long enough to know that he showered twice a day but used his razor only once, in the evening after work. He wore nicer clothes in the evening. The jeans and shirts he wore during his ranching hours were worn and clung to the muscled contours of his tall body.

When he had come into the kitchen, she'd caught a whiff of soap and man and cool mint mouthwash. Just that easily, her motor began to race. Doing her best to ignore her awareness of Brad, Lainey asked, “These animals are slated for the rodeo?”

He nodded, digging into his breakfast with enthusiasm while Petey watched and followed suit. “The steers we get from the breeding operation will be sold to the rodeo when they're fully grown. I'm keeping the female cattle for breeding more rodeo stock.”

“And that means nearly every year the size of Brad's herd will practically double,” Petey explained. He looked at his mother seriously. “You hafta know your math, if you want to be a rancher.”

Lainey smiled, glad Brad was having such a positive influence on her son. “When will you be back?” she asked.

Brad shrugged. “Noon, probably.” He paused. “Sure you don't want to go? We've got room in the truck.”

Lainey was tempted. “I've got work to do here.” Reporting work. And because she was uncomfortable doing it, she'd
just as soon get it over with. The sooner she got this writing assignment over, the better, as far as she was concerned. Never again was she going to sign a contract to clandestinely investigate anyone she knew, or had personal ties with on any level. It was just too darn hard. But she had sworn she would do this one article, so she had to follow through. Because she owed it to herself—her friend Sybil, too.

“Next time,” Lainey promised.
If you still want me to go.
There was no guarantee that would be the case after the
Personalities
story came out.

As soon as the men cleared out, Lainey got right down to work doing the sleuthing that would allow her to expose the truth of what had really happened between Brad and Yvonne to the public without ever involving Brad.

First up was Susie, a bubbly brunette from Kansas City. The charming elementary-school teacher had been fourth from the last in the elimination, and had struck Lainey as being a very pragmatic, as well as beautiful, woman. “Are you asking me to be honest?” Susie asked.

“Nothing but,” Lainey replied, holding the phone closer to her ear.

“I think the outcome was rigged from the first.”

Lainey scribbled down Susie's exact words. “What makes you think that?”

“The rest of us had to make do with the outfits we brought with us, or what was on the wardrobe racks. Yvonne Rathbone came in with a whole suitcase full of designer clothing. And you can't tell me she could afford Prada and Marc Jacobs on a copier sales rep's salary.”