Crockett's Seduction Page 8

  “I hope I never do.”

  “Same thing. Although I am not as young as I used to be, that may have been my last ride. I seem to have felt it more than I should have.” He came to stand beside her at the rail.

  Even sooty and sweaty, she had to admit that Crockett was the most handsome man she’d ever seen. “I should be getting back to help,” she murmured. “Thank you for making me feel better.”

  “So what happens after today?” he asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  He shrugged, looking out over the empty arena. “I worry that I’ve crossed a line, and now you’ll avoid me.”

  “If I can handle life with your brother, as awkward as we’ve made our situation, I think I can handle a little flattery from you.”

  “So kiss me again.”

  She laughed. “Don’t push your luck, cowboy.”

  He sighed. “We could be the best of friends, given our situation.”

  “Not that good.”

  “Yeah. I guess if I really kissed you, you’d probably figure out a way to destroy this arena,” he said ruefully. “Although I don’t see a stove.”

  “Okay, there’s a reason you’re needling me,” Valentine said, “so I’m going to indulge you. What effect are you going for? Anger? Rage?”

  “Just good ol’-fashioned lust, I swear,” he said. “Garden variety, can’t-stop-thinking-about-your-mouth lust.”

  And darn him, if he didn’t really kiss her. Every fiber of her body told her it was a bad idea. Everything between them was a bad idea, but he simply felt so good. He made her feel that everything was better in his world, his world was an awesome place to be. She sighed, leaning into him, winding her fingers into the shaggy hair coiling out from underneath his hat. The only thing on her mind was nothing but the feel of Crockett.

  LAST DUMPED the last bag of sawdust on the ground inside the arena, then stood, brushing off his hands. He could work cleanup crew at Delilah’s, he could lay down fresh sawdust on the floor in the arena, he could help the ladies move their belongings to Marvella’s, but there was something else on his mind.

  He glanced down at his little girl. Annette stared up at him, her eyes big in her face, watching her daddy work. Of all the emotions he’d ever had in his life, the feeling of looking big in his baby’s eyes was the best. Annette adored him without hesitation, without emotional baggage. In her world, he was her man, and everything he did was special.

  He loved the daddy thing.

  “You’re pretty cute for a bug-eyed spud,” he told her. She nodded her head solemnly, then sat down on the bag of sawdust and began playing with her dolly. “I don’t know exactly when you grew on me. But you sure did.”

  Kneeling down, he looked at his pretty little daughter. She gave him a smile, then went back to messing with her dolly’s hair. He couldn’t remember loving anybody the way he loved this child. His brothers had taken care of him, and they had loved him, but Annette was his to care for, and somehow that was more special than anything he’d ever known.

  He felt a moment’s twinge of guilt that she would never know what it felt like to be part of a whole family. He’d certainly known that loneliness. It was not good. What would he say to her when she grew up? Mommy and I really never liked each other, so we didn’t get married, even though we made you.

  That sounded terrible. Looking down at his daughter’s soft hair, he tried again. Mommy and I never liked each other, but we both adored you.

  It was going to be difficult when the questions came.

  A remote part of him wondered if it would simply be easier for Annette if he and Valentine married. People had arranged marriages all the time! It would certainly change Annette’s life for the better. Nobody asking uncomfortable questions at school, like why aren’t your mother and father married? No teasing.

  He would love to save her that pain. To do that, he and Valentine would have to agree that a whole was better than two halves. She wasn’t likely to feel that way, he’d seen the way she looked at Crockett.

  Some resentment bubbled up inside him. His brothers had no idea how hard it was being the baby. They’d congratulated themselves for years that they were such good parents, and they had been, but…there was a low-man-on-the-totem-pole effect to being youngest.

  It wasn’t as wonderful as they thought it was. He was forever fighting for his place, his share of whatever was happening. All the brothers looked up to Mason and were even slightly in awe of his temper.

  No one was in awe of Last.

  It stunk.

  “I could have ridden that stupid bull,” he told his daughter. “I could have beaten Crockett’s score, if I’d had the chance.”

  It probably mattered very little to anyone except him, but matter to him it did. He always got the butt end of every situation in the family. Oh, hell, if the boot had been on the other foot, and Crockett hadn’t gotten to ride the final ride with a chance to beat Last, all heck would have broken loose in the arena. Crockett wouldn’t have let anybody beat him. He was still pouting over the fact that Calhoun had sold paintings before he had.

  “I could have ridden that bull,” Last repeated, and Annette looked up at him, her chubby, pretty little face angelic and adoring. She saw her daddy as a hero, Last realized.

  It should be enough.

  “It will be enough,” he promised his daughter, “once I’ve ridden that bull. It’s a man thing, and I’m just as vulnerable to that as any other red-blooded cowboy.”

  And once he rode that bull into a piece of leather fit for shoes, he would talk to Valentine about their nuclear family unit. Heck, they weren’t in love, no way. But maybe she saw their lives the same way he did, with everything revolving around Annette and what was best for her. If Valentine said no, that would be fine.

  But he was going to ask. For his daughter’s sake.

  Thinking he heard voices, he walked out into the breezeway. His chest tight, he watched Crockett kiss Valentine as if he was thirsty and had just found a watering hole.

  Last jumped back into the shadows, glancing down at his child. She had followed him and stood staring up at him. “I have really made a mess of this,” he told her, “and I’m not really sure how to fix any of it.”

  She held her dolly up to him with a smile. “Thank you,” he said. “I don’t believe I’ve ever had a doll before. If I did, it was probably your Aunt Mimi’s. Although if she ever had one, she probably pulled its head off and gave it to Mason.”

  Annette took her dolly back from him, satisfied that he’d paid proper attention to it. “I’ve got a crazy idea,” he said.

  She looked at him curiously.

  “Around this corner is Uncle Crockett and your mommy,” he said. “Walk over to your mommy, okay?”

  She nodded. When Valentine and Crockett broke away from each other, startled by Annette’s presence, Last came around the corner, waving at them innocently. “Brought the last bag of sawdust,” he called, as if he hadn’t seen a thing.

  “Thanks,” Crockett said. Valentine smiled self-consciously. Last pretended not to see. He made sure Annette was securely in her mother’s arms and then he left.

  He and Mr. Bloodthirsty Black had some wrangling to do. And when it was over, one of them was going to have a different kind of reputation.

  Chapter Ten

  “This must be awkward for you,” Crockett said. “I’m sorry.”

  Valentine looked up at him. “It’s not awkward because of Last. I mean, it is difficult, but that’s because of you. Not him.”

  Crockett frowned. “How do you mean?”

  Valentine snuggled her daughter to her. “I feel things for you I shouldn’t.”

  “How do you know you shouldn’t?”

  “I just have this funny feeling.” She couldn’t meet his eyes.

  “A funny feeling because of Last.”

  “Yes. No. I don’t think so. I just worry about what your brothers might think…so when I think of you, when you kiss me,
I get all kinds of butterflies chasing around inside. The thing that worries me is that I don’t think the butterflies are chasing because they’re happy—it feels like they’re nervous.”

  “Well, hey, I’m nervous all the time.” Crockett smiled and touched a finger to Annette’s nose. “You’re probably nervous, too, aren’t you?”

  Annette stared at him, which made Valentine laugh.

  “She is not nervous, she’s content. This is a happy baby,” Valentine said, squeezing her daughter. She drew strength from the sumptuous feeling of her daughter’s petite roundness and warmth. “She is the reason I bake.”

  “Really? I was hoping it was me, when I saw that gingerbread cowboy.”

  Valentine shook her head as she nuzzled Annette. “I bake for her sake.” Crockett didn’t need to know that he was on her mind all the time. That knowledge would do nothing good for that double-layered confidence he possessed.

  But she knew he’d figured out what she hadn’t said when he put a gentle, yet firm finger under her chin so she’d have to look at him.

  “Valentine, I’d be very good to—”

  The sound of a crashing gate jerked both of them around. To her horror, Valentine saw a bull leap into the empty arena. It was Bloodthirsty Black, and on his back was her daughter’s father.

  “Damn it!” she heard Crockett say. Before she even realized what was happening, before she even understood that Last had been flung from the bounty bull’s back, Crockett had hurdled the rail, run into the arena, and began flopping his hat wildly at the bull.

  Bloodthirsty was living up to his name, determined to wreak vengeance on the cowboy who had dared straddle his back. Last was down, Bloodthirsty was throwing dangerous hooves and Annette was screaming.

  Or maybe it was her.

  Crockett was down, too, thrown to the sawdust like a spoon thrown to the floor by a baby. Now more brothers rushed into the ring.

  It was all over in an instant. She couldn’t see what had happened, or how badly anyone was hurt, but Annette was crying. Valentine knew that the best thing she could do was take Annette out of the arena. Her tears would only make matters worse.

  Valentine realized she was shaking as she hurried away. “It’s okay,” she told her daughter. “Don’t cry, sweetie. It was just a game, and your daddy is fine.”

  Annette hiccupped. Valentine wiped at her daughter’s eyes, then debated what to do. Outside, the specter of Delilah’s burned kitchen greeted her eyes. Last and Crockett were hurt, and she had no idea how badly. She felt eerily as if everything was all her fault. An ambulance wailed, startling her from her indecision.

  She wanted Annette gone before the medics carried Last or Crockett from the building. “I think we’d better go home,” she told Annette. “You’ll calm down…and I think my presence has wreaked enough havoc.”

  Just then Mimi came out a door beside her, her long hair askew.

  “Are they all right?” Valentine asked anxiously.

  “I can’t tell, actually. I do know it’s more pain than either of them bargained for in their quest to avoid all things superstitious. Valentine, do you mind taking Nanette home? Helga can keep an eye on her, but—”

  “I’d be happy to. Annette is upset because she saw—”

  “I know. Try not to worry.” Mimi handed her the keys to her truck. “Drive safely. I’ll call you as soon as I can.”

  Valentine looked into Mimi’s sympathetic eyes. “Thank you.”

  “Thank you.”

  Valentine strapped both the children safely into the double cab, took a deep breath to steady herself and drove out of Lonely Hearts Station.

  As if she were running away from more than the man who needed her.

  CROCKETT STARED at Last with deep annoyance. They shared a room, their hospital beds next to each other. As hard as it was to get a glare going with his leg in a cast, Crockett craned his neck to be certain Last got an eyeful of his displeasure.

  His frown softened as he looked at his kid brother. Knocked out from painkillers or whatever dope they had in his IV—or maybe just mercilessly out of his head from pain—Last looked like the kid they’d all protected growing up. The lines were smoothed from his face, though soot smudged his cheek, sawdust was in his hair, and there was a gash across his forehead from one of Bloodthirsty’s hooves.

  Crockett lay back against his pillow, unable to stay angry with Last. It had been a close call, but as bad as it was, it could have been so much worse.

  He understood exactly what had driven Last to try to ride that damn bull. Pride. Stubborn, heart-eating pride.

  They all had a strong share of it.

  And a lot of this was his fault, Crockett knew. He couldn’t get away from the responsibility of knowing that Last was struggling with internal demons, one of which was his guilt about Valentine. What man wouldn’t feel guilty about getting a woman pregnant and not loving her—not wanting to marry her—and yet not wanting anyone else to have a place in his child’s heart.

  I’ve really screwed this up.

  “If I’d been smart, I would have left her alone,” Crockett muttered to himself.

  But he hadn’t been, and now both he and his brother were busted up. With no true love or Curse of the Broken Body Parts to blame it on, either.

  “Crockett?”

  “Yeah?” Crockett rolled as best he could to peer at Last.

  “I feel like crap.”

  He had a black eye, Crockett realized. “Hey, you look like crap.”

  Last smirked, or tried to, except he had some stitches around his lip and really couldn’t. “Dude, that damn bull tore a chunk out of my hide.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “You shouldn’t have come in the ring,” Last said slowly. “I didn’t mean for you to get hurt.”

  “What, and leave my baby brother to get pulped? Nothing would have stopped me.”

  Last sighed. “I don’t want to be the baby anymore. I think I should take my rightful place among the old farts in the family.”

  Crockett lay back against the pillow. “Trust me, it’s not that happy a place to be. Old and lonely. So what?”

  “Who’s old and lonely?”

  “Mason. You want to turn out like him?” Crockett asked. “And me. Right now, I’ve got a lonely broken leg. You’ve at least got a daughter, Last.”

  “Yeah.”

  Crockett heard the slight smile in his brother’s voice. “All right, then. So quit wheezing about not wanting to be the baby. Your place in the family is a good one. Some of us would rather be Last than who we are.”

  Last sighed. “Where is Valentine?”

  “She went home. Annette was upset when she saw the bull tossing you like she throws her toys.”

  “Man, I am such a screwup. What was I thinking?”

  “None of us ever know what we’re thinking right before we make some catastrophic, life-changing mistake,” Crockett said. “Though I will say you’ve had more than your fair share of questionable moments.” Crockett wiggled as best he could. “I want to scratch real bad, and I can’t get to my leg. Share your IV with me.”

  “I would if I could.” Last sighed. “Crockett?”

  Crockett glanced over at him. His brother sounded tired.

  “Hell, yes. Whatever it is you want, the answer is yes. I’m getting cranky with this itch and realizing how much I’m not going to be able to do in a cast. Shoot, I’m going to be out of work for at least two months, I bet. You sure as heck have rehabilitation in front of you. That leaves Mason to do everything. He’s gonna lose his mind.” Crockett rolled his head to look at his brother. “So what is it?”

  “Don’t take my baby away from me,” Last murmured. “I’d give you my IV, my shirt off my back, anything I have. But don’t take my baby.”

  Crockett’s heart skipped. “What…about Valentine? Can I have her?” he whispered.

  Except for a groan that could have been yes or no, there was no answer. Last had fallen asleep, roc
ked again into slumber by the medicine.

  THE NEXT DAY, Mimi walked into Baked Valentines. Valentine looked up from her work with a smile. The little girls sat at Valentine’s feet, each happily banging spoons against muffin pans and enjoying the noise they were generating.

  “Hi,” Mimi said. “Concert?”

  “We have a couple of budding composers.” Valentine smiled. “Tea? Cookies?”

  “I’d love both.” Mimi pulled a stool close to Valentine’s workspace, sitting down as she studied her. “How are you doing?”

  “Oh, for a girl who burned down a kitchen and got a couple of cowboys stomped, I’m just fine.”

  Mimi laughed. “You have had some trouble lately. But it’s not as bad as you think it is.”

  “Oh?” Valentine set a doily-covered plate in front of Mimi. “It sure feels like I am the conduit of all things miserable.”

  “You must be in love. Only people in love speak with such dark, doomed emotion.”

  Valentine smiled. “I’m not in love, but you are cheering me up.”

  “If you’re not in love, do you think you might be in strong like?” Mimi took a sip of the tea Valentine put in front of her and sighed with pleasure. “This is lovely. What is it?”

  “Cherry peach. I’m also brewing up some blackberry lemon.”

  “Where do you get these wonderful teas? Some days I want to stop in just to see what you’ve got in the teapot.”

  “Fancy tea catalogues. Tea is so relaxing that I feel I should have as many different varieties as possible.”

  “I’ll say. So, you’re in strong like?”

  Valentine nodded. “I’ve got a sinking feeling I am. It’s sort of like being on a teeter-totter and knowing my partner is going to get off while I’m up high.”

  Mimi laughed. “Crockett wouldn’t do that to you.”

  “At the rate I’m going, I’d probably do it to myself. I have turned into a walking disaster.”

  “That’s all behind you now. And you’d be surprised at how many good things are coming out of your disasters.”