The Love of a Lawman, The Callister Trilogy, Book 3 (30 page)

"My mom and dad," he said, "have a couple of 'kid' horses they're getting in shape for when Trey and Cody come for the summer."

The announcement blindsided her. "Your sons are coming for the summer?"

"It's part of the revised custody agreement I made with Julie when she moved them to California."

Isabelle's mind spun backward, trying to recall when she had last heard him mention his family. "Wow. You haven't said much about your sons. Or your ex-wife."

Without a word, he put down his fork, reached back and brought forth a brown leather billfold, as if doing it was something dreaded but inevitable. He opened the billfold to two yellowed acetate sleeves holding what looked like school pictures of two handsome boys. The older child had white-blond hair and green eyes with a striking resemblance to the father. The younger boy, with hair more golden, had dark brown eyes.

Isabelle looked at him. "Was your ex brown-eyed?"

He nodded and returned to his food, leaving her pondering if his marrying a brown-eyed woman was nothing more than a coincidence or if it had some significant Zen meaning that went all the way back to the teenage crush he'd had on brown-eyed Isabelle Rondeau.

When he offered no words to carry the subject of his children or his ex-wife further, an unexpected pang pierced her. Though it was none of her business, she wanted to know the true "why" his ex had cheated. But looking into his face, all she could see was a shutter closing. She rose and gathered her dishes. "They look like great kids."

"I thought Ava would like to go riding," he said, still sitting at the table and looking across the room at her as she rinsed her plate under the faucet.

Clever how smoothly he skimmed past discussing his family. Isabelle dredged a smile from the emotions that had begun piling up inside her like debris from a storm. "I'm sure she'd love it."

He stood then and brought his plate to her. "Since Rooster's taking the early shift Saturday, we could go out to Mom and Dad's, as long as I get back to town by six."

How he had ignored a conversation about his family as if she hadn't said anything was enough to make her dizzy. "Okay, I guess." She took the plate from him and placed it in the sink.

"It's a plan, then. I'll tell Mom and Dad."

Isabelle nodded.

"Walk me out," he said.

She dried her hands, slipped her arm around his hip and hooked her thumb in his waistband. He looped his arm around her shoulder and they moved through the living room to the front door. There, he held her against his chest for what seemed like a long while. She could hear his heart beating against his sternum. Until a few minutes ago she had felt that strong heart belonged to her. Now she wondered. If he cared about her, wouldn't he have discussed something like his children coming for the summer?

A minute later he kissed her good-bye and left with nothing more than an "I'll call you." He hadn't departed so abruptly since the first time they had kissed in the barn, weeks back. She watched from the living room windows as he made his way down her long driveway.

Anxiety danced inside her. Sometimes her slutty side raised its uninhibited head and she just gave in to it. Her good-little-girl side berated her for putting John in this predicament. He would have been more responsible if she hadn't teased him and egged him on.

Still, her slutty side refused to regret. Just the opposite. She had thoroughly enjoyed herself and she had enjoyed John. In truth, they had enjoyed each other. He had been as unbridled as she, which was very unbridled indeed.

The pleasure she took from sex went deeper than satisfying a biological urge. It had been one of the few areas of her life where her appearance or her intelligence hadn't made so much difference. For a girl who grew up believing herself an ugly duckling, who had drawn the short straw on parents and whose peers called her dumb, sex had leveled the playing field. Firsthand knowledge made her feel wiser and more sophisticated than classmates who looked down on her because of her grades or her wild hair. Or her family.

Knowing that Billy Bledsoe—all the girls called him "hunk" or "stud" or something like that—wanted her body without criticism or condition had been a boost to her short supply of self-esteem. Naturally they all said the only reason Billy hung out with her was because she put out.

Now that she was older, she knew the real reason Billy hung out with her. He was weak; she was strong. He had needed her strength. It was that simple. The human community wasn't so different from animal communities. There was always a dominant member, usually the strongest and smartest animal, the alpha male or female. It was part of the mating process.

If you get pregnant..
. The possibility of motherhood had been absent from her life for so long, she couldn't drum herself into hysterics over it now. Nor could she feel that a baby with a man like John would be a disaster—except, of course, for how it would affect Ava and the fact that they now lived in a town where every citizen inserted himself into every other citizen's life, invited or not.

She disliked causing John worry. He was the best man she had ever known. Not only was he handsome and a wonderful, considerate lover, he had a rare, quiet strength she revered. Her feeling for him had grown to something deeper than she had expected.

Or wanted.

Until now, that is.

Chapter 19

Failing to use protection on Thursday had been a mistake, but John left Izzy's house sensing that wasn't the only error he had made. Her attitude when he picked her and Ava up on Saturday morning confirmed his concern. She was almost as standoffish as she had been the first day he saw her when he went out to check into the dog shooting.

Not that she was mean or hateful—just bristly.

The horseback ride turned out great. What could go wrong on a sunny day in the mountains? They rode along the shoulders of Sterling Mountain through a landscape of new spring growth and endless blue sky. He insisted Isabelle ride his rope horse, Rowdy, and teased her about "riding a good horse for a change."

She didn't so much as grin.

The horse his mom assigned to Ava—a bay gelding named Pancho—was a dream horse for a kid. As they rode, she went into a long explanation of the differences between Western saddles and the smaller English equipment. Where a ten-year-old got all the information that floated around Ava Rondeau's head, John couldn't imagine.

After the ride, John volunteered to haul Pancho to Isabelle's for Ava to ride at will, but Isabelle declined the offer, telling him that keeping a man's horse in her corral was a little like giving the guy a permanent place at the table.
Ouch.

John's mother spread joy all over them. He hadn't brought a woman to visit since before he married Julie. Mom met them at the barn on their return and invited Isabelle and Ava into the house for a Coke or coffee while John unsaddled.

His mother's welcome didn't come as a surprise, nor did his dad's noticeable absence. John was unsaddling when his dad came into the barn.

"Good ride?"

"Great. Grass up in the foothills looks good."

Dad nodded and hung his elbow on a stall door. Something was stuck in his craw, for sure. It didn't take a genius to know it was Isabelle. "You might as well say it and get it over with," John told him.

"Well... I'm just wondering what you're doing with that Rondeau woman."

His dad knew the relationship with Isabelle was more than casual or he wouldn't have brought up the subject. He pulled Isabelle's saddle off Rowdy's back. "That's between her and me."

"Art's already had a falling-out with her."

Still irritated when he thought about the incident that had taken him to Isabelle's house the first time, John turned, resting a hand on Rowdy's back. "I don't know what Art told you, Dad, but he shot her dog. It was a pretty little border collie. If there had been something I could've done about that, I would have. It tore the little girl up."

His dad looked away. He had border collies himself and it would have been out of character for him to wish ill on a kid. "Well... Art gets carried away sometimes.... But he's not wrong about that Rondeau bunch. Paul Rondeau—"

"I'm not seeing Paul."

"An apple doesn't fall far from the tree, son. Just don't forget that."

John puffed his cheeks, blowing out a breath. "We done?"

"That's all I'm gonna say. I promised your mother." His dad walked out of the barn.

Unfazed, John watched him walk away. In truth, his dad had thought no better of Julie, had considered her a gold digger from the first. Perhaps he hadn't been wrong about Julie, but he was way off base with his negative opinion of Isabelle. The only things Julie and Isabelle had in common were they were both female and they both had brown eyes.

Only a clone of Katie Bradshaw, John suspected, would please his dad. It dawned on John that Isabelle came close.

By the time he retrieved Isabelle and Ava from his mom's kitchen and started the drive home, Isabelle had grown even more distant. They reached her house and he began to help her take her gear to the tack room. "I don't need your help. I can do it," she told him.

His mom had given Ava some books and a couple of videos. To John's relief, she took them and skedaddled to the house, giving him an opportunity to corner Isabelle in the tack room. "What's wrong, Isabelle?"

She whirled to face him, fury burning in her eyes. "I'll tell you what's wrong. Why don't you want me to meet your kids? You think I'm not good enough?"

Shocked, John blinked and tucked back his chin. "Where'd you get
that
idea?"

"You didn't even tell me you'll be spending your time with them all summer."

He shook his head. "I wasn't ready to discuss it."

"You intended to hide me under a rock for three months?"

"No. I want you to meet them. When it's right."

"I wonder if you've been honest with me, John."

"I haven't lied to you. About anything."

"By omission, John. By omission. I saw how your dad behaved toward us. I should've known better than to go to his house. I know he's always been friends with Art Karadimos." Her eyes teared up, but she sniffed and dashed them with her sleeve.

Lord, he hated to see her cry. Bewildered, he moved closer to her. "What do you think I haven't told you?"

"What you're planning with your kids, how you feel about your divorce. Any of it."

"I haven't discussed my divorce with anybody, Isabelle. I'm still sorting through it."

She began to pace the tack room. "What's to sort through? If it's over, then it's over. That's what I'm talking about."

Was she jealous? Did she think he harbored hidden feelings for his ex-wife? He put his hands on her shoulders and stopped her pacing. "Isabelle, isn't it enough that I don't have anything to do with Julie except for the kids?"

"It isn't her. It's me. I don't want to be walked out on ever again. Getting past it took too damn long. It was too damn hard." She stepped away from his hands. "I'd rather be alone for the rest of my life than go through that again."

"Don't you think the same applies to me? Hell, I didn't even know my wife had a boyfriend until I walked into my own house and found the sonofabitch in my bed."

She stopped pacing and stared at him, wide-eyed. He hadn't intended to blurt out that information, but now that he had, he felt compelled to continue. "I came home a day early from the show in Pendleton and—" He stopped, his explanation overcome by the memory of walking up the hall and seeing the bedroom door that wasn't usually closed tightly shut, then opening it and seeing a man he didn't know scrabbling for his pants. He had tried for a time to drown the memory in alcohol. To this day, when it came back to him, self-doubt assailed him.

"You loved her, then."

"I don't know. I just believe when a woman gives birth to your kids, it has to mean something.... Then again, maybe not. It sure didn't mean as much to her as it did to me."

She crossed her arms and looked at the tack room floor. "I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me. I shouldn't have—" She straightened and started for the door, but stopped and looked at him over her shoulder. "Just to satisfy my curiosity, what did you, um... do?"