Blackbird Lake (25 page)

And Brady had been locked up, at least for a while, in her grandfather’s very own jail.

“No, everything went fine with the delivery,” she was saying a little breathlessly. “They were late getting there, but Grams’s piano is in place and it looks awesome. Grams will be thrilled. Oh…yes, the auction. It wasn’t too bad. No…not at all. Who…
won the date with me
?”

Her voice cracked on the word “date.”

Brady watched with raised brows as her wide eyes locked on his.

“Well, um…actually, Gramps, it’s Brady who won the date with me. No, he wasn’t the only one who bid on me, but…”

He watched her eyes close for a moment. Watched her wince as she listened carefully. And something tightened in his stomach.

“No, Gramps, it’s nothing like that. You’re wrong. Brady
and I—we’re friends again now. And I’ll be perfectly all right. Brady bid on me out of kindness because he knew I didn’t want to…”

Brady didn’t hear the rest. He was already at the door, yanking it open, bounding into the hall. He turned back and met her startled gaze for one instant before he pulled the door shut and took off down the hallway, his boots thumping on each step of the single flight of stairs.

He’d be damned if he could listen to any more.

Madison didn’t deserve grief from her grandfather because of him.

He had to get this under control. Right now. Whatever
this
was. He’d never intended to kiss Madison or touch her or end up anywhere near her bed with her when he’d gone to her room.

All he’d wanted was to make sure she was all right. That she hadn’t sensed anyone following her over the past few days. To make certain she wasn’t scared.

But why should she be scared? She had Lonesome Way’s sheriff to protect her. Maybe he was out of town right now, but he’d be back. And Teddy Hodge wouldn’t need any help taking care of his granddaughter.

Madison didn’t need him. Just the opposite. He’d only cause trouble for her. Hodge would give her an earful of grief about why associating with him was bad for her. And he’d mostly be right.

Madison had already gone through a terrible breach with her mother. She didn’t need to have Brady come between her and her grandparents now. Teddy and Joanie Hodge were basically the only family she had left.

His jaw hardening, he slipped out of her building and strode toward his Harley. Just because he’d messed up his own life didn’t mean he had a right to mess up hers. As he swung a leg over the bike, he tried not to think of how sweet she’d tasted when she kissed him, how her lips seemed to melt into his. Or of how soft and eager she’d felt in his arms. Or of what might have happened next, if the phone hadn’t interrupted them.

Her thong might have been on the floor alongside her jeans in another second. Her T-shirt would have gone next….

Brady grimaced and accelerated down Coyote Road, leaving the town behind in a blinding blast of dust.

He’d spent a lot of time alone since his parents died and even more after he got the news that Cord was dead. But he knew he’d never felt quite as alone as he did now, roaring off on his bike, the first bitter frost of winter snapping through his leather jacket. It chilled him deep to the bone as he tore through the vast and starless night.

Two weeks later, Carly stood beside the racks of colorful fabric in her shop, trying to focus as Professor Penelope Andrews, a member of Montana’s Circle of American Masters, spoke about unified quilt design for nontraditional quilters.

Every available space in Carly’s Quilts was packed with folding chairs, women, handbags, and refreshments. All of the quilters in Bits and Pieces—and a few others from neighboring towns with their own quilting groups—were crowded in to listen to the seminar by one of the most popular speakers in the state.

Penelope had donated her usual speaker’s fee to the animal shelter fund-raiser and Sophie had supplied the refreshments, which would be served after the talk, free of charge. The quilters would be offered a choice of sandwiches from A Bun in the Oven—roast beef or tuna with melted cheddar, plus creamy potato salad and cole slaw for each attendee, along with a big tray of caramel brownies. Carly was supplying the paper plates, napkins, coffee, and tea, along with pies—two of Annie’s specialties, which she’d baked early
that morning. A luscious peach-raspberry pie and a lemon meringue.

So far the event was going well. But as the professor reached the end of her talk and began taking questions from the audience, Carly noticed Wash Weston stride past the quilt shop window and she suddenly lost the thread of the talk as her mind began to wander.

Her date with Wash had gone off without a hitch. Well, without too much of a hitch. Wash had been a perfect gentleman the entire time they were at dinner at the Lucky Punch Saloon. They’d talked about his farm, and how his son was studying agriculture in college, and how Wash hoped to turn things pretty much over to him by the time his son graduated. Wash looked forward to being able to kick back and see a bit more of the world.

He told her how he’d always wanted a daughter, but instead he had three boys. He asked her about Emma. Hinted that it must be hard raising her alone. His wife had died when his youngest boy was twelve so he knew what that was like.

He seemed lonely and was a perfect gentleman—until they returned to Blue Bell Drive and he walked her to her door, then leaned in to give her what she’d expected would be a chaste good-night kiss on the cheek.

“I enjoyed our date, Carly. Wouldn’t mind doing it again sometime,” he said in a grave tone.

“It was a very nice evening.” Carly smiled noncommittally. Wash wasn’t the most exciting man in the world but he was pleasant, and unfailingly polite, and it didn’t seem necessary to explain to him that she didn’t really date—or why.

Maybe he wouldn’t call her again. If he did, she’d just say she was busy.

Which was the truth. She
was
busy—with Emma.

Though Jake was watching her daughter tonight, in a few days he was leaving for Salt Lake City to shoot that commercial.

Besides, she and Wash had pretty much exhausted every
avenue of conversation by the time he drove her home. Not to mention the fact that he was nearly twenty years older than she was.

But the quiet, gentlemanly farmer had a surprise in store for her. After that quick, chaste cheek kiss, he suddenly grabbed her waist with both beefy hands and tried to plant his mouth on her lips.

Carly thrust her fists against his chest and pushed him away before he could.

“Good
night
, Wash.” Her tone was firm, but she forced out a brief smile to take the edge off.

“Honey, you know there’s more where that came from,” he told her with a mixture of hopefulness and eagerness. She was so taken aback she froze for a moment, and then he reached for her again. Instinctively, she stepped back.

“No, Wash,” she said quickly. “There isn’t.” And at that moment the door opened. Jake strolled onto the porch.

And he wasn’t alone.

Bronco squeezed out, too. The formerly down-on-his-luck mutt didn’t look nearly as emaciated these days, and his tail wagged happily as he ambled toward Carly.

But aside from dropping one hand to his golden head for a little absentminded pat, she barely noticed. Her gaze was locked on Jake.

“Evening, Wash.” The smile on his face was cool. A glint of steel hardened his eyes.

“Jake Tanner?” Wash’s gaze had sharpened. “What are you—”

“Babysitting Emma,” Jake interrupted him, hooking his thumbs in the pockets of his jeans.

Wash appeared at first stunned, then puzzled, as his hands fell from Carly’s waist. “You two…uh, the two of you…Are you…”

“Yep.” Jake nodded. “We are.”

Carly felt herself flushing.
We are what?
she wondered in annoyance. She didn’t know what the hell Jake thought he was doing, but she had to admit he’d made his appearance at a propitious moment.

Still, after Wash was gone she’d need to set him straight on a couple of things….

“Thanks again for dinner, Wash. Good night.” She started toward the door, but not before catching a glimpse of the farmer’s crestfallen expression.

“Yeah. Guess I’ll be seeing you around.” It was a disappointed mumble and on the words, Wash turned away and trod heavily down the steps.

“I suppose I should thank you, but was that really necessary?” she demanded once she and Jake and Bronco were alone inside her cheerful hallway and the front door was firmly closed.

And locked by Jake.

“Thought I’d give you a hand. It was obvious you were having trouble getting rid of him. You’re too nice—at least to
him
. Wash didn’t seem to be getting the message that his one-shot deal was over and done.”

“I’m perfectly capable of getting my own messages across by myself.” She led the way across the hall and into the living room. “Did Emma go right to sleep? Did you have any problems?”

“Aside from throwing peas all over the floor for Bronco to eat while we were having supper and making me read her five stories about Bitsy Bunny before I could turn out the light, it was a snap. Oh, and she kept asking me to sing some song but I didn’t know it.”

“‘Five Little Monkeys’?”

“Yeah!” Jake raked a hand through his jet-black hair. “You’d better teach it to me. She kept waving her arms, trying to sing it, and getting very frustrated that I wouldn’t participate.”

“I’ll loan you the CD.” But Carly was having a hard time holding back a laugh. She could just picture big, tough Jake Tanner, the bull rider, trying to sing “Five Little Monkeys Jumping on the Bed.”

“Emma’s definitely a girl who knows what she wants,” he informed her with a touch of pride as she sank down on the sofa and kicked off her black pumps.

“You think?” Carly grinned. “Don’t get me wrong, she’s as sweet as Sophie’s cinnamon buns, but she’s a munchkin with a mind of her own.”

“I’d expect no less.” He moved toward her with his lithe cowboy gait and dropped down beside her on the very feminine sofa, stretching his long, jean-encased legs as far as he could with the coffee table in the way. Instantly, her heartbeat revved up.

Damn, why did he always have this crazy effect on her?

“She looks just like you, Carly. You gotta know that. Soft, sweet, beautiful. I’m not trying to sweet-talk you here,” he added matter-of-factly. “Just stating the truth.”

“Actually, she has your eyes. That deep, dark, amazing blue…” Carly suddenly became aware how close together they were sitting. He was less than a foot away. She could almost feel the heat and strength radiating off his powerful body. In a tan and black flannel shirt and faded jeans, he certainly looked unlike any babysitter she’d ever used since the day Emma was born.

She had a quick, distracting flash of that intense, intoxicating night that Emma had been conceived, seeing in her mind’s eye the spectacularly muscled chest beneath that shirt, the powerful forearms and tanned glisten of his skin as his mouth slid with excruciating slowness down the entire length of her body…the feel of him pumping inside her…

And then…and then…

Carly blinked. Someone had said her name. It was Penelope Andrews. She had finished speaking and the women gathered at the quilt shop were now out of their chairs, chattering enthusiastically and helping themselves to coffee and sandwiches, pie, and brownies throughout the shop.

“Professor Andrews.” Jolting back to the present, Carly focused on the woman’s round, pleasant face as conversation bubbled everywhere throughout Carly’s Quilts. “We all enjoyed your talk very much.” She spoke quickly, a flush climbing up her neck. “It was fascinating. And we so appreciate your taking the time to come today.”

The words were the truth. The woman was well-spoken
and informed. The part of the talk Carly had actually listened to had been quite helpful as well as entertaining, but somehow…somehow…

Jake had taken over her brain.

It wasn’t like her to tune out that way. In high school and college she’d learned to focus and to channel her attention to whatever task was before her. In her previous life, she’d delivered complicated financial reports to the entire board of directors of Marjorie Moore without losing her train of thought or breaking into a sweat.

But now—all she seemed able to do was focus on Jake and Emma.

It amazed her how good he was with her. Better than good, he was great. She had to admit he had more patience even than she did and was the most laid-back, easygoing man she’d ever met.

He let Emma muss up his hair, pull his ears, play with the buttons on his shirt. She’d gotten into the habit of climbing onto his lap with Bug in tow every time he dropped by to see her. As long as she wanted, he held her on Bronco’s back as if the dog were a pony, and the mutt’s tail never stopped wagging as he walked around the house or across the backyard with Jake holding Emma in place as she yelled, “Ride ’em, cowwoy!”

He’d promised Carly he’d teach Emma to ride for real in a couple of years. His first pony, Dakota, was now eighteen, gentle as a puppy dog—and in retirement at Sage Ranch. “By the time Emma’s four, I’ll have her riding like a rodeo queen,” he’d told Carly and she wasn’t sure whether to be pleased or alarmed.