Crockett's Seduction (8 page)

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.

“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.

C
ROCKETT 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 realiz
ing 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, rocked again into slumber by the medicine.

T
HE 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.”

“Like what?”

“Like…Delilah has decided to move her salon to Union Junction.”

“Really? What about the Union Junction stylists?”

“They’re delighted. It will be just like it was in the beginning, before Delilah had to let half of them go. Besides, they’re wanting to get busy with their pet rescue project, so having extra hands will be awesome.”

Valentine wasn’t convinced. “Thank you for trying to make me feel better about setting Delilah’s kitchen on fire, but it is hard not to be really embarrassed. I’m a baker, for heaven’s sake. How can I burn down the place I love most in a home?”

“If the kitchen is the room you like best then you haven’t been to bed with a Jefferson—”

Valentine blushed.

Mimi sipped her tea, then said, “Well, you aren’t the only one who has awkward moments, as you can see. I’m sorry, Valentine.”

“It’s fine.” Valentine smiled. “Mimi, do you have something to ask me?”

“No. I was simply saying that Crockett could probably change your mind about your favorite room.” Mimi sighed. “I don’t know why, but I never think of you with Last. I always picture you with Crockett. Isn’t that odd? My mind just conjures the two of you together. It’s as if you two and Annette should be a family. Come here, butter cake,” she said, picking Nanette up.

Miffed at being disturbed from playing with her friend, Nanette let out a howl. “Back you go,” she told Nanette. “Bang away.”

Valentine sat down on a stool opposite Mimi and began rolling out dough. She didn’t want to touch the comment about Crockett so she said, “They play so well together.”

“I know.” Mimi turned away from her daughter and back to Valentine. “I almost forgot. The other good thing that has happened is that Marvella offered to buy Delilah out.”

A bad feeling hit Valentine. “How is that good?”

“She’s going to rebuild and refurbish and open the building up as a shelter for women in need. With a bakery on one side and a few shops on the other. That way, tourists will be more tempted to come to town, and any women who stay there will have gainful employment. It’s pretty much what Delilah was doing all along with her salon, only
now it will be on a major scale. The town fathers are quite delighted, as is Delilah. She’s thrilled that Marvella has changed, and that their relationship is on the mend.”

“I’m glad,” Valentine murmured. The Jeffersons would be happy to know their enemy had turned over a new leaf. And speaking of brothers… “When do the boys get out of the hospital?”

“Crockett sooner than Last. Last is under observation for a concussion and some other things. Crockett only has a broken leg, and it turns out he’s the worst patient of the two.”

“Really? I wouldn’t have guessed that.”

“Neither would Mason. Now that all the brothers, except for Calhoun, have left the ranch with their families, it’s pretty much up to Mason to care for those two. And believe me, it isn’t pretty.” She laughed.

“I feel as though I should be doing something to help!”

Mimi shook her head. “This is not the time. Trust me. It’s good bonding for them, don’t worry.”

Valentine pressed molds into the dough, thinking about Crockett and Last and all the complications between the three of them. “Have you ever known that something wasn’t going to work out, no matter how appealing it might be?”

“You mean Crockett.”

Valentine winced. Was she that obvious? “I mean, any relationship. I’m speaking in generalities.”

“Sure.” Mimi shrugged. “I have some passing acquaintance with relationships that don’t work out.”

“Well, that’s what it is with…a certain man and me,” Valentine admitted. “Even if I allow myself to fantasize about him, I can never see a way it would work out so that everyone is happy.”